Even in repose, she had the regal bearing of a queen mother. As tiny as a small child, she carried her head held high and her chin lifted in a way that says to the world, “I know who I am, and the someone I am is very special indeed.”

As I approached, she held out her hands for me to take in mine. And as I did, I knelt at the side of her chair and kissed her on both cheeks. Lowering myself to the chair near hers, we looked at one another in silence for some moments.

Miss Cyriah Chambers is a phenomenon of nature. No one knows her age for sure—except herself, and she doesn’t tell. But she is the mother of Darcey’s husband, Noah, and Noah, the middle child of twelve, and the oldest still living, is in his mideighties.

Her body is as frail as thin ice, but her voice is still vibrant and alluring. Her mind remains unclouded by the years, and her eyes are those of a girl just entering the beauty of young womanhood. She held me now with those clear, liquid, deep brown eyes, and I felt myself being drawn into them, where I was held suspended, as though I were being turned over and around and examined in great detail. Then I felt myself released, ever so slightly, and sat back in the chair to await her words.

“I’m glad you’ve come to visit this old woman,” she said in her young girl’s voice. “I’ve been seeing you in my mind and was worried. You’ve been in some bad, ugly places—dry and dusty places—and you have dealt with wicked men.”

How she could possibly know this is something I no longer even dwell on. It is simply a fact that Miss Cyriah sees things. She sees and knows matters that are hidden from the rest of us. And more than that, she sees into the hidden crevices of others—those places we all have and that we protect from open view, hoping to keep those places and their contents a secret, sometimes even from ourselves.

“You’ve taken human life,” she continued, “but you doubt the wisdom of some of your actions, and your spirit is bruised and feels battered and sore.”

I looked into her eyes and nodded. “That is true, Miss Cyriah. Though I’ve vowed to myself that I would never again inflict harm on others, it seems I always break that promise.”

Cyriah sat very still for a moment, the only movement being the ever so slight rise and fall of her chest as the breath of her body ebbed and flowed, as light as the breathing of a small bird.