not.”
Guy held Jilly’s wrist and squeezed to stop her from saying anything.
Again the bell rang from the hall and shortly Cyrus appeared.
Ken said, “Thank you for coming so quickly, Father.” The man actually grinned. “Madge said she’d get our message to you. She agreed that there’s nothing wrong with covering all our bases. Do you know Mrs. Edith?”
“Yes,” he said shortly, with a questioning rise of the brows at Guy and Jilly. “Mrs. Preston comes to mass. The late mass, not the early one like you. She comes to your stall when she leaves—or so she tells me.”
Jilly felt like crying. Her emotions felt stripped. She hadn’t known her mother attended mass. How like Cyrus not to mention a thing about it before.
“Father,” Jolene said, “Ken and I feel it’s a matter of life and death for us to see her now. She was already anemic and now she’s lost a lot of blood. We brought something to help her.”
Cyrus bowed his head and shrugged. The two walked to him and he held their shoulders. “Not everyone understands or accepts natural medicine,” he said. “The man who let me in said the doctors are with her now. She’s had a transfusion. We would have to get their permission before intruding.”
“It’s important!” Jolene’s eyes shone. “Tell him, Ken. We can help her.”
“How did you know she was anemic?” Laura asked in a breathy voice.
Jolene shrugged. “We’ve studied these things. We can tell. And we don’t use anything that isn’t natural, Mrs. Laura, so you don’t have to worry.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Mrs. Edith loves you. She talks about you.”
Laura subsided to a couch and sat, doubled over. “It’s all too much,” she said.
“She loves you, too, Miss Jilly,” Jolene went on. “She’s never been so happy as she is knowing you’re safe and well.”
“Even if she did—”
“You make her happy,” Jolene added quickly, cutting off Ken.
“I’ll go up and see how things are,” Laura said, and left the room abruptly.
“You must have sold a lot of produce this week,” Cyrus said to the Pratts. “The collection box had to be emptied earlier today.”
“We’re not happy about what’s happened to Mrs. Edith,” Ken said, shifting the topic. “There are a lot of elements shifting in Toussaint—and beyond. It could be that all we can do here is keep watch until the source of evil is brought to justice.”
Cyrus crossed his arms. “We talked about tolerance,” he told them. “But we also agreed that meant we must be careful about forcing our beliefs on others. Sometimes you can frighten people by saying things they don’t understand.”
“Sorry,” Jolene said promptly. “Let’s sit down and wait, Ken.” When he joined her she looked at him and said, “It’s not getting better, is it,” and put a hand over her mouth.
Cyrus smiled and sat on another couch. Tonight he was still in black and wore his collar. Jilly loved to see him like that. She knew how good a man he was, but when she saw him in his “uniform” as she called it to irritate him, she realized how committed he was and how much he liked to let people see he was a man of God. An errant thought about the unusual affection between Cyrus and Madge rushed in and her stomach turned over. They worried her so.
“Are you brother and sister?” she asked the Pratts suddenly, and felt foolish. “Of course you are. I can see it now. You have exactly the same eyes and hair color, and you wear matching clothes. Twins?” What an idiot. They had to be in their late twenties and most unlikely to choose matching clothes.
“Ken and Jolene are married,” Cyrus said, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“We know we look a lot alike,” Jolene said. “That’s what brought us together.” She looked at her husband with open affection.
“Someone’s coming,” Guy said. He heard squeaky running footsteps.
Laura arrived. “Daddy doesn’t like it one bit, but Edith wants to see all of you. She says you’re all some of her favorite people.”
Guy didn’t point out that he’d never met Edith Preston. He wanted to size up what had happened in this house a few hours earlier.
The Pratts rushed from the room at once. Guy and Jilly followed with Cyrus, and much more slowly. Laura didn’t join them immediately. “I tried to reach you at your place,” Cyrus told Guy. “When you didn’t answer, I drove over there. That mess in your engine bothers me.”
“It sickens me,” Guy said.
“There’s a friend of yours there,” Cyrus said, keeping his eyes on Guy’s. “The one with the black Corvette. Nice man, but pacing around waiting to hear from you.”
“Yeah,” Guy said. He’d all but forgotten his uninvited houseguest. “I’ll give him a call in a bit.”
“He’s staying at your place?” Jilly said.
“Uh-huh. Cyrus, can you get a few hours off later tomorrow?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. I’ll let you know when we’ll pick you up. It’ll be late morning.”
And she, Jilly thought, wasn’t supposed to ask what Guy was talking about. “Pick him up to go where?” she said. They’d reached the bottom of the stairs.
“It wouldn’t be wise to tell you,” Guy said. “If that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I hate it when you treat me like a child.”
“I’m not treating you like a child.” He fought to keep his voice down. “I’m protecting you, dammit. That’s my job.” Surely Cyrus would back him up.
“Protecting me? Whatever may be happening around here, and we could be imagining the whole thing, whatever happens I’m part of it. So back off with the protection and include me in everything. You got that?”
Guy looked to Cyrus, who turned away and started up the stairs. “You’re right,” Guy said to Jilly. “There’s probably absolutely nothing to worry about. Pack up your imagination, stop jumpin’ at your own shadow and get on with your life.”
“You condescending son of a bitch,” Jilly said, and enjoyed it. She left him and ran to catch up with Cyrus.
Guy closed the space between them and whispered, “Sorry for that.” This would be a bad moment to turn Jilly against him, not that there would ever be a good moment.
She led the way from the top of the stairs, to the right along a corridor. Guy noted there was a second corridor to the left. When she reached closed double doors, she tapped, turned the handle and peeked inside.
In she went, leaving the door open.
Cyrus and Guy followed her with Guy expecting to be thrown out at once.
“Jilly, darlin’,” a woman in the bed said, smiling wanly. “Come close so I can see you.” Frosted streaks probably covered gray in her long, thick hair. Just as Preston had said, she was beautiful with Jilly’s exotic air of mystery.
Jilly went to her and kissed her cheek. She smoothed mussed hair away from Edith Preston’s pure white face. “What’s happened?” she whispered.
The Pratts stood on the other side of the bed and Mr. Preston sat in an overstuffed gray chair, watching and chewing the skin around his nails. His face remained immobile, but his eyes shot fury at the group around the bed, then at Cyrus and Guy.
Guy could hear voices in a room that opened off the