Graveminder

“Cissy and her daughters agreed that it was probably for the best if she went home to rest a bit,” Evelyn said.

With a watery smile, Rebekkah turned to face her. “Thank you.”

Evelyn waved it off. “It wasn’t me, shug. Christopher does a good job of handling difficult women.” She lowered her voice. “He had to learn that skill with his sisters. He comes from high-strung women.”

“Well, please thank him, too.” Rebekkah gave a small laugh. When she’d lived here, the McInney family had been responsible for more than its fair share of disturbing the peace, and to hear Maylene talk, one of the reasons the town council made Chris sheriff was that he knew all the troublemakers—or was related to them.

“Everything will be okay, Rebekkah.” Evelyn pulled out a chair. “And it will be easier once you get a little food in you. Grief is exhausting, and you can’t keep up your strength on an empty stomach. Come on.” She patted the chair. “Sit.”

Obediently, Rebekkah did so.

Evelyn looked at Byron. “You go on and see if your father’s here yet. He’s hiding it well enough, but he’s having a rough time of it, too. Those two were always thick as thieves.” She made a shooing motion at Byron. “Go on. I’ll stay with her for a bit.”

Byron glanced at Rebekkah, who nodded. Leaning on Evelyn didn’t feel as dangerous as leaning on Byron. With Evelyn, there was no confusion, no conflict. She was simply being kind. Most likely, she’d do the same for every person currently in the house if they were grieving.

“I’ll be right out there,” he said.

Evelyn started fixing a plate for Rebekkah, filling the kitchen with the same sort of easy chatter that Maylene always used to when Rebekkah was upset. Which is why she’s doing it , Rebekkah realized . She smiled gratefully at Evelyn. “Thank you.”

“Shush.” Evelyn patted her hand.

Over the next hour, a number of people flowed in and out of the kitchen, telling little tidbits of stories about Maylene—a fair number of them about conversations in that very room—and generally helping Rebekkah erase the thought of her grandmother dying there.

Then Rebekkah felt a tug, as if she were being drawn along a cord she couldn’t see. She walked back into the living room, trying to make sense of the utterly unfamiliar feeling inside of her. She’d grieved before, but grief didn’t compel you to follow unseen paths.

“Bek?” Amity stepped toward her. “Rebekkah? What are you doing?”

Rebekkah ignored her and kept walking. She opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Vaguely, she realized that she should say something , explain herself in some way, but a pressure inside insisted that she keep moving.

Amity followed. “What are you ... Oh my gods.” She turned and ran back inside yelling, “Sheriff? Daniel? Somebody?”

A child Rebekkah didn’t know was lying on the ground. She had several long gashes in her arm, at least one tear in her shoulder, and scrapes on her legs as if she’d been dragged over the ground. The child’s eyes were closed, and her face was turned away.

In a haze, Rebekkah knelt down beside the girl and felt for a pulse. It was thready, but there. It took all of her efforts to force herself to focus on the child.

This isn’t what I am looking for.

“Oh my God.” A woman, presumably the child’s mother, sobbed the words as she shoved in front of Rebekkah and scooped the little girl into her arms. “Call an ambulance. Oh my God, Hope ...”

Sheriff McInney helped the woman over to the porch. “Let me see her.”

Then Father Ness and Lady Penelope, the local spiritualist, were both there. Evelyn was steering the crowd. Someone had come outside with a kitchen towel and was using it as a makeshift bandage on the little girl’s arm. Everything was as under control as possible, but the compulsion Rebekkah was feeling hadn’t abated.

It’s farther away now.

Rebekkah walked past the child and the people clustered in the yard. Beyond her was a small patch of woods. At the front of the woods were trees and bare ground; Maylene had always kept the front-most bit clear of underbrush. Beyond that, it grew wild. That’s where it went. Rebekkah searched the trees and underbrush for movement, eyes, something to help her locate the animal that did this.

Why would I feel an animal outside?

Byron came up beside her. “The EMTs are on the way. Evelyn called them the minute she heard Amity. The station is close enough that they should be here in a couple minutes.” He paused. “Bek? Are you okay?”

She kept watching the shadows in front of her.

“Do you see something?”

“No,” she said.

“Did you see anything?” Byron looked out into the small wooded area. “Cougar? Dog of some sort?”

“No, I didn’t see anything.” She felt like her voice wasn’t entirely her own, as if the sound of the words echoed around her.

For several moments, they both stood silently. Then the tug that had pulled Rebekkah outside released all at once. She rubbed her hands up her arms, trying to chase away the prickled feeling on her skin.

“There were a couple other children out here. Are they all here? I don’t know a lot of these people. I’d think their parents would check, but ... I don’t know.” She kept her voice low, as much in hopes of not spooking anything that waited in the trees as not to alarm anyone who overheard her. “Can you check?”

“Sure. Let me go ask Chris. Are you—”

“I need a minute,” she told him.

Obviously, the shock of the past two days had hit her. I was in California yesterday. Today she was at her grandmother’s funeral breakfast staring into the woods in some strange attempt to find an animal that had attacked a child. Grief wasn’t always the same, and if she was acting irrationally, it was to be expected. That didn’t feel like grief. She wasn’t sure what else it could be, though—or if she wanted to know. What she wanted was to kick everyone out, go upstairs, grab a shotgun, and sit on the porch watching for whatever big cat or feral dog had bitten the child.

The EMTs pulled up. Right behind them were William Montgomery and the young rabbi who’d moved to town a few years ago. William’s gaze immediately sought first Byron and then Rebekkah.

The rabbi went over to the child’s mother, but William walked past the small crowd until he was beside Rebekkah. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” Rebekkah gestured to the crowd. “A little girl got bit by some sort of animal.”

Daniel came over and took charge of keeping the bystanders out of the way. He paused and gave Rebekkah and William an almost accusatory look.

Rebekkah flinched. She hadn’t been gawking, but she hadn’t been much use either—but neither had anyone else. They’d wrapped the wound and called for help; there wasn’t much else anyone could do. What did he expect?

“Why don’t you go on over to the house, Bek,” William said.

There was no graceful way to refuse William’s suggestion, and she didn’t want to argue with him—he was the only other person who’d lost as much as she had when Maylene died—so Rebekkah did as William suggested.

She walked toward Byron, and as she approached she caught the tail end of his comment. “ ... just like Maylene,” he said in a low voice to Christopher. “So don’t tell me to calm down, Chris.”

Rebekkah blanched. Like Maylene? That didn’t make sense. Byron had said Maylene was murdered; animals didn’t murder people. “Byron?”

Byron looked over his shoulder. “Bek ...” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I didn’t realize you were behind me.”

She looked from him to the sheriff, who shook his head and remained silent, and then back at Byron.

Lady Penelope came up beside Rebekkah and put an arm around her. The spiritualist was gentle but insistent. “Come inside. It’s been a stressful morning. Evelyn already put on the kettle. Why don’t we get a nice cup of herbal tea? I brought several blends that should soothe your nerves.”