Chapters (87)
“You’re a good girl,” she purred. “Sad what happened to your family. After the, um, after the, uh.” She tried to wet her lips, work them away from her gums, but they were stuck. I dipped the mouth swab in a cup of water and dabbed her lips. “Never quite the same after,” she said. “I saw her once after. Looked like her soul was sucked out of her. He will do that though, yes, yes he will.”
Not this again.
The skeptical adult in me had barely given Judy’s evening sermon a second thought.
But the child in me had taken the dying woman’s whispered, calloused words to heart last night. The devil knows you.
The child in me knew there were malice and horror in those words. The child in me believed in anything and everything. The devil, he squeezes in.
I ached for gossip about my mother. It was a dangerous ache, like wanting the Ouija board to spell out your name. “What happened to my mom, Judy?”
“We used to say it at baptisms when the baby cried.” She dry-laughed and it died quickly. “Father Greg would smile and tell the parents, ‘We’re getting the devil out.’” She worked her dry lips up and down. I sponged more water on her lips, and she sucked at the sponge like a fiend. “Say what you want about this town, it’s not fancy, but we get things done. He got the devil out.”
My stomach grumbled. “Judy, are you saying my mother was possessed?” If anyone else heard me say that, I would have been embarrassed. But it was only me and Judy, who had a less-than-functioning mind at this point.
Her brain literally has holes in it, Heather. It’s like the hungry caterpillar. On Friday he ate five apples. On Saturday he ate six bites of her brain.
“Like in horror movies?” I said. “Possessed by the devil?”
Judy smiled tightly, righteously, and opened her eyes halfway, drugged and hazy. “Mm-hmm. She cut that poor girl. Father Greg told me everything. I’m his favorite.” Her gauzy eyes sparkled.
Of course you’re not buying this. The woman literally has disease-reaching tendrils through her brain, strangling neurons, gobbling them up.
“What did Father Greg tell you?” I said, feeling like a yo-yo at the end of this dying, deranged woman’s finger.
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Tired.”
“Can you tell me about Father Greg, Judy?”
She sighed, already dozing.
From the other room, Paulina happily called, “Good morning, ladies!”
42
42
There was a package sitting there on our front porch.
Trevor was always ordering random things. Fun things. Glow sticks or sticker books for Emily, earbuds for Sawyer, more gardening gloves for himself. But it was early for a delivery. The sun hadn’t cleared the horizon.
Parking my car in the driveway, I had a view of the front porch. The package’s shape wasn’t rectangular.