appropriate. No matter how heartfelt it would be.
The door slapped open again, and Casey’s stomach dropped. “Leila.”
“Where’s Eric?” The girl’s eyes sparked with anger—and something else—when she saw Casey.
Casey jerked her thumb toward the dining room. “Out there.”
Leila spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. Casey followed, stopping in the doorway to make sure Eric wasn’t about to get assaulted. She needn’t have worried. Leila’s only concern seemed to be to find Eric and give him some urgent message. Somehow, Casey had the feeling it was about her.
Casey went back to the kitchen and took a couple heads of lettuce from the fridge, washing them and cutting off the brown spots with a knife. Maybe it was time for her to leave Home Sweet Home, at least, if not Clymer altogether. She wasn’t getting any answers. Eric was angry with her. Leila was telling secrets. Loretta thought she was a heathen. Johnny had even turned his back on her.
She closed her eyes and leaned on the sink, a wave of dizziness sweeping through her.
“Don’t go falling into the sink now,” Death said. “You’ll cut yourself with that knife.”
Casey shook her head, her eyes still closed, and whispered, “No one would care.”
“Sure they would. You’d get blood on the lettuce.”
Casey straightened, giving Death a good glare. “Thanks so much for your concern.”
Death shrugged and peeled a perfect yellow banana.
“What is with you?” Casey said. “First junk food, now the healthy stuff.”
“I get bored. And besides, I’m really enjoying learning about—”
“Gardening. I know.”
“Casey?” Eric came to stand beside Casey and she blinked as he stood in Death’s spot, Death’s form shimmering, but staying in place, outlining Eric’s body. Eric shivered. “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?” He reached over to shut the door.
Leila stood in the entryway to the dining room, her expression triumphant, arms crossed over her chest. Casey went back to chopping lettuce, avoiding the sight of Death/Eric.
“Um, I’m sorry,” Eric said. “I know you’re just trying to help by asking me to think of these things. I’ll go home tonight and look through my calendar. See if I can piece together which visit to my dad that would’ve been.”
Casey nodded. “Good. That would be helpful.”
Leila cleared her throat.
Eric looked back at her, then turned again to Casey, a violent shudder running through his body. He looked at the window, but it was closed. “Why is it so cold in here?”
“Go on back out to the dining room,” Casey said. “We’ve got things under control in here.”
“All right.” He leaned closer. “But that means I’ve got to deal with Leila.”
Casey grinned. “You’re a big boy. You can handle her.”
He glanced over at the girl in the doorway, who now had her fists planted on her hips. “I’m not so sure.”
Casey nudged him out of the way as she leaned over the sink, and he left.
“That wasn’t nice,” she told Death.
Death shrugged. “I was here first.”
Loretta walked past Casey, a stack of pizzas in her arms as she headed for the stove. “Another volunteer for the kitchen, Praise God! Did you bring a friend, Casey?”
Casey shook her head, somehow not surprised that Loretta could see Death. “No. This friend was just leaving.”
Death frowned. “I was?”
“Nice lady’s friend?” Johnny turned from his task in the corner and headed for Death, arms open.
“No! Not you, too!” Casey stepped in front of Death, and Johnny’s face fell. “I mean,” Casey stammered, “my friend has…a cold, Johnny. I don’t want you to get it.”
“Oh. Sorry, nice lady’s friend!”
“Well,” Loretta said, pointing at Death. “If you have a cold, baby, you get out of the kitchen. Praise the Lord we don’t need anyone else getting sick.”
“But I’m not—”
“You heard the woman,” Casey said. “Get out.”
Death frowned. “I’ll be back.”
“Oh,” Casey said, sighing. “I have no doubt about that.”
With a final glare, Death stomped out the back door, leaving it flung open.
Loretta clicked her tongue. “With a temper like that, we don’t need more help, do we, thank the Lord?”
“That’s right,” Casey said.
For some reason cutting up lettuce got a whole lot more enjoyable after that.
The smell of pizza soon filled the kitchen, and Eric and Leila carried it out to the diners—Leila shooting Casey smug, angry looks—along with the salad and some chips. Leila must have felt so strongly about Casey’s presence it was worth it to serve her own family. Casey stayed in the kitchen, helping Loretta and Johnny with dishes and refilling the pizza trays as necessary.
Before long the people were gone and the volunteers were standing around eating the leftovers. Leila didn’t leave Eric’s side, her demeanor daring Casey to make an issue of it. For the second time that night Casey had to remind herself that martial arts had no place in a charity kitchen.
“Well, it’s about that time.” Eric said, glancing at his watch.
“I’ll drive you to rehearsal.” Leila batted her eyes at Eric.
He glanced at Casey. “I’ll just walk. Thanks, though.”
“Oh, then I’ll walk with you,” Leila said. “I can leave my Bug parked in the back, can’t I?”
Eric looked at Casey. “You coming?”
She smiled. “Why don’t you two go ahead. I’ll catch up with you there.”
Leila’s narrowed eyes widened, and she smirked, grabbing Eric’s arm. “Come on, Eric, let’s go.”
With a pleading backward glance, Eric allowed Leila to lead him from the room. Casey listened until she heard the front door open and close.
“You should go, too,” Loretta said. “You’ll be late for rehearsal, Praise God! ”
“I’ll go in a minute. I just didn’t want Leila to kill me before I got there.”
Loretta chuckled. “You just take that friend of yours along, babydoll. Then that girl will behave.”
A good idea, but there was no way Leila would be seeing Death. Casey was quite confident of that.
She picked up a pizza tray to take it to the sink, but Johnny was already coming at her for a hug, and the tray came up, smashing against her chest. He backed up, and they looked down at the mess, splotches of tomato sauce and cheese clinging to Casey’s shirt.
Johnny cried out and grabbed a dishcloth, swiping at the spots, making little sobbing noises.
Casey gently took his wrists, holding them away from her. “It’s okay, Johnny.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He jerked against her hold, wanting to go at the stains with the cloth.
“Really, Johnny.” She tried to make eye contact. “It’s okay. I’ll wash it out.”
“Just don’t you put that blouse in the dryer until those stains are all gone, baby,” Loretta said. “Or they’ll be there until kingdom come, Lord willing.”
Johnny gasped. “Not the dryer!” He jerked his hands upward, flinging the dishrag, narrowly missing Casey’s face.
“I’ll spray the spots really well,” Casey said. “And I’ll double check before throwing the shirt in the dryer. I promise.”
“No!” Johnny said, coming at her again with the dishcloth. “Stay away from the dryer!”
Casey again grabbed his wrists, forcing him to look at her, but his anxiety had climbed way past a simple messy accident. “Johnny. It’s okay. I’m not angry. The clothes will be fine. I promise.”
“No! No!” He jerked and writhed, sudden tears running down his face.
Loretta was there now, laying soothing hands on Johnny’s shoulders, praying for God to come and throw his calming presence over their beloved brother in Christ.
“The dryer!” Johnny screeched. “You have to stay away from the dryer!”
Casey shook her head. “Why, Johnny? Why do I have to stay away from the dryer?”
