It was good, after so much shit about Rockhouse and Brushy swirling through her mind to remember the good things about home. The barn dance, Uncle Node taking toll at the door, Ruby Montana holding court, dancers swirling across the floor--and sometimes through the air--the musicians and their friendly rivalries. She missed it and loved it. And while there was an ache there, it was a relatively sweet one.

"I don't really know," she admitted. "But in my experience, people who're meant to find Cloud County, Tennessee always do." Sometimes it was their blood that called them--Tufa blood however thin it might be. Sometimes it was just their love of music. But the land had ways of welcoming people who needed to come, and turning away people who meant no good.