Monica lowered her head. She was in no condition to tangle with Grace, and she remembered something Troy had told her earlier, about the woman possessing unusual strength. She had dismissed his comments then, as she had nearly everything else he had said about her mother. But what if everything he’d said was true?

“Get back in the bed,” Grace said. “I won’t ask again.”

Obediently, Monica climbed onto the mattress. Grace adjusted the pillows behind Monica’s back so she could comfortably sit upright. She placed the serving tray full of food and beverages on Monica’s lap, and settled onto the bed next to her.

“Now, sip your tea,” Grace said.

“The tea makes me sleepy,” Monica said. “I don’t want to sleep. Please.”

“It will ease your mind. It’s the cure for what ails you at the moment.” Grace lifted the teacup and brought it to Monica’s lips. “Drink it, dear.”

Briefly, Monica thought about tossing the hot beverage into Grace’s face. But what would she do after that, when Grace recovered?

It was too risky. There had to be another way.

Monica grasped the cup and took a small sip of the brew. Parting her lips hurt; her face was on fire.

“Better?” Grace asked. She smiled. “You put up such a fuss, child, but I think you enjoy my doting over you. You missed this, growing up, to my eternal shame.”

“Where are the children?” Monica said, remembering the time.

“Your husband took them to school.” Grace gave a wry smile, touched her stomach. “Men excel at certain duties, even the lesser members of their species.”

Monica hadn’t seen her own children since last night. She was sleeping their lives away. The thought made her want to cry, but instead, she yawned, wincing at the pain in her pulsing jaw. But the tea was having its usual tranquilizing effect on her. She put the cup on the tray.

I can’t fall asleep, she thought. I have to get out of here.

“Biscuit?” Grace said. She brought one half of the buttered pastry to Monica’s mouth. Her eyes twinkled. “Homemade, of course. My secret recipe.”

Monica didn’t want the tea, but she was hungry. She nibbled at the biscuit, chewing carefully, and of course, it was superb. She consumed the half that Grace had offered, picked up the other half off the plate and ate that one, too, leaving behind only a scatter of crumbs.

“That’s my girl,” Grace said.

“Can I have an ice pack?” Monica asked. “Please? My face is swelling.”

“Indeed it is. It will leave an ugly bruise.” Grace tenderly touched her inflamed jaw. “I’ll fetch an ice pack in a moment.”

“I’d like to go outside, too, please,” Monica said. “I want to take in some fresh air.”

And get the hell out of here, Monica thought. Somehow.