Chap­ter 216 of All the Col­ors of the Dark revolves around Saint and Char­lotte as they work togeth­er to clear land for an upcom­ing project. Over the course of a long week­end, they labor inten­sive­ly under the hot sun, tack­ling stub­born roots from moun­tain lau­rel, witch hazel, and wild blue­ber­ry bush­es. Despite the phys­i­cal exhaus­tion, they take breaks to enjoy sim­ple, hearty meals of beans, ham hocks, and corn­bread, a recipe Char­lotte has per­fect­ed over time. The atmos­phere of the day is tinged with mem­o­ries of Nor­ma, as the hum of Charlotte’s bees serves as a con­stant back­drop to their work. These moments of labor are inter­spersed with reflec­tions on the past, adding emo­tion­al depth to the oth­er­wise phys­i­cal task. The con­nec­tion between the two women grows stronger, not just through their shared work but through the way the land evokes mem­o­ries of those they’ve lost and the pass­ing of time.

On one sig­nif­i­cant Sun­day, an arborist arrives to help by cut­ting down sev­er­al oak trees, offer­ing his ser­vices for free in exchange for the tim­ber. While the task con­tin­ues, Saint offers him but­ter cake, which caus­es frus­tra­tion for Char­lotte, who had been plan­ning to use every last crumb of it her­self. The after­noon con­tin­ues with their work, clear­ing a 30-by-30 sec­tion in prepa­ra­tion for the stu­dio that Sammy’s con­trac­tor will soon lay the foun­da­tions for. Ini­tial­ly, Char­lotte hes­i­tates, unsure of her own desires for a per­son­al space, but even­tu­al­ly admits her need for a cre­ative out­let, acknowl­edg­ing the impor­tance of carv­ing out her own space. This moment marks a sig­nif­i­cant shift for Char­lotte, as she begins to rec­on­cile her needs with the plans she’s mak­ing for the future. It shows a moment of per­son­al growth, where she starts to con­sid­er her own ambi­tions, no longer sole­ly focused on the past.

Through­out the chap­ter, Char­lotte reflects often on Nor­ma and their shared grief, con­tem­plat­ing how time and dis­tance can change the way they expe­ri­ence loss. She and Saint engage in a qui­et con­ver­sa­tion about the nature of prayer, dis­cussing its role more as a reminder of what tru­ly mat­ters rather than as a plea for divine inter­ven­tion. These reflec­tive moments are bal­anced by moments of light­heart­ed­ness, such as when Char­lotte jok­ing­ly refers to a fall­en tree as her “bitch.” This con­trast between humor and sor­row high­lights the com­plex­i­ties of Charlotte’s emo­tions and the way in which the two women are learn­ing to nav­i­gate their grief. The inter­play of these feel­ings cre­ates a tex­tured nar­ra­tive, illus­trat­ing how even in the midst of hard work and phys­i­cal labor, emo­tion­al pro­cess­ing con­tin­ues to take cen­ter stage. Their con­nec­tion deep­ens as they move through the day, each of them grow­ing more attuned to the oth­er’s emo­tion­al land­scape.

As the evening draws clos­er, the land is final­ly cleared enough for machin­ery to begin its work, sig­nal­ing that the phys­i­cal labor is near­ing its end. How­ev­er, the calm and sat­is­fac­tion of their progress is shat­tered when Saint stum­bles upon what appears to be a large num­ber of bones buried in the ground. This dis­cov­ery trig­gers a sense of unease, and it soon becomes clear that some­thing more sin­is­ter is at play. The atmos­phere shifts once again when Offi­cer Michaels arrives with dis­turb­ing news of a near­by mur­der, which imme­di­ate­ly casts a dark shad­ow over the day’s work. What was once a project of cre­ation now takes on the weight of destruc­tion and loss, as the bones buried beneath the sur­face echo the unset­tling pres­ence of the past. This dis­cov­ery and the sub­se­quent news from Offi­cer Michaels serve as a stark reminder of the com­mu­ni­ty’s dark­er under­cur­rents, where the quest for new begin­nings is often haunt­ed by the echoes of old wounds. The chap­ter beau­ti­ful­ly inter­twines themes of cre­ation, destruc­tion, and mem­o­ry, as it high­lights both the strug­gles of build­ing some­thing new and the impact of unre­solved his­to­ries that con­tin­ue to haunt the present.