I gazed at the paintings, each one a sacred thing, a vision of power and color and light. I could have looked at those paintings for hours and hours. Some of them were like visions I had seen myself, and the feeling Mom had drawn from them was something close to magic. They seemed perfect, miraculous even, thrumming with power. In that moment I felt closer to Mom than I ever had in all my life.

“Don’t stay up too late,” said Grandma. “And Lee? Do me a favor. Keep those away from Murphy, won’t you?”

“Why?” I said. “I think she’d want to see them.”

“Just trust me, please,” said Grandma, and she closed the door behind her.

After a while I put the paintings back in the suitcase and slid them under my bed for the night.

Chapter 40

With three days left before the gathering, Grandma took me into town to buy a new suit.

“A leader needs a suit,” she said, “and a nice one, not like that old thing you wore to the funeral. Clothes inspire confidence. Never forget that.”

I asked if Murphy wanted to go too, but she declined. It was hard for me to believe Murphy would turn down an opportunity to leave the Farm, even if it was only for a few hours, but she wasn’t having it.

“I think I’ll just stick around here awhile,” she said.

Murphy was getting weirder and weirder, and every day I felt like I understood her less. I would see her lurking around the Farm, watching all the newcomers with this kind of strange look on her face, like she was sizing them all up for a fight. I didn’t like it, not one bit. Something felt wrong to me in my gut, like maybe the Spirit was telling me to be cautious around her.

Or maybe I was just overreacting. If Murphy didn’t want to come to town, she didn’t have to. To be honest, it was kind of a relief. I liked spending time alone with Grandma. I felt like I could be myself around her more easily, that I could talk about Jeremiah and all our plans for the Farm, how great everything was going to be. I would have felt pretty self-conscious doing all that with Murphy around.

Benign was full of smiling people that day, folks hollering and waving at us, person after person walking up to shake my hand. It was hot out, and everyone had that sort of flushed scurrying look that Southerners get when they’re working their way from air-conditioned room to air-conditioned room. I was starting to learn everyone’s names, even the folks who weren’t part of the Farm, folks who were just locals and curious about me. I was shaking hands, telling jokes, all that, like I was some kind of politician or something.