“Amen,” said Murphy.

“I never heard a prayer like that before,” I said.

“I don’t like to address the Spirit in gendered terms, you understand?” said Grandma. “Seems a bit gauche. Don’t you agree, children?”

“God is for suckers,” said Murphy.

“It’s a good thing I don’t believe in God, then,” said Grandma.

“Then what the hell did you just pray to?” said Murphy.

“The Spirit is not god, Murphy. The Spirit isn’t some patriarchal deity with a beard, up there on a throne, hurling out judgments. That would be absurd. The Spirit is a living and active presence, not bound up in any holy book or written down in statutes. It’s out in the woods, on the land and in the soil, in the flowers and the hummingbirds, anything with life. Most importantly, it’s right here.” She tapped her chest with her fist. “That’s where the Spirit lives, Murphy. It’s a power, a strength. And it can live in you too.”

“Nah,” said Murphy. “I’m good.”

Grandma smiled. “I suppose we’ll see about that, won’t we? Now dig in, lest the food get cold. Lest all my work be for nothing.”

So Grandma was a little weird. That was okay. I mean, have you met me and Murphy, much less our mom? Who in their right mind would expect our grandmother to be normal? Besides, the food was incredible. I mean, when was the last time we’d had a feast like that?

Maybe this one time when Horace had cooked a huge meal for Mom’s birthday. Believe it or not, Horace was a pretty great chef, and he took all kinds of pride in his cooking. That night he’d served broiled lemonfish with mushrooms, mashed potatoes, and roasted veggies, with fried oysters as an appetizer. It was one of the best meals I’d ever had in my life. Horace had done the dinner table up fancy with candles and cloth napkins and all that. It was like a date night for him and Mom. I couldn’t believe he’d allowed us to be there for it.

Things had been going pretty damn pleasantly when Mom out of the blue told Horace that she’d gotten a speeding ticket a few months back and had forgotten to pay it, and now there was a fine and maybe some other stuff. Mom never could remember to pay for things, especially not bills. That was usually my job, had been ever since I was old enough to read. I liked to organize things, stack mail into piles, sort through all the bills, whatever needed to be done. It’s the most boring part of my personality, sure, but somebody had to do it.

“You mean, you—the sheriff’s wife—were negligent on a speeding ticket?” said Horace.

Mom nodded.

“You know that means there’s a warrant out for your arrest, right?” he said, the fork gripped tight in his fist. “You, the wife of the premiere law enforcement officer in this county?”

“I figured you could take care of that for me, honey.” Mom gave him her best smile, all dimples and charm. “You will, won’t you? I sure would appreciate it.”