“Nope, but I do remember her being afraid of storms,” Flynn answered. “Have you ever gone down in the cellar? Is it concrete or just dirt?”

“Nanny Lucy sent me down there for a jar of peaches one time,” Nessa answered. “It’s dark, damp, and kind of spooky, but it’s all concrete, even the floor. There was a whole bunch of granddaddy long-legged spiders there. I hate spiders, but I got the peaches and hurried back up the steps as fast as my legs would go.”

“Why would April go down there?” Flynn looked down the wooden steps.

Nessa led the way, and when she reached the bottom, she picked up the whiskey bottle. “I found the reason. I wonder when April hid it. Nanny Lucy thought the devil would come up out of the ground, grab you by the ankles, and pull you straight to hell if you took a single drink of alcohol.”

“She told me that very thing when I was a little boy,” Flynn said as he started down the stairs. “Scared the bejesus out of me. I went home and cried when Mama poured herself a glass of wine that evening.” Flynn seemed to fill the small space when he reached the bottom of the steps and saw April passed out on the floor. “What do you think happened here, Nessa?”

One of Nessa’s shoulders rose in half a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the storm. One thing’s for sure: if April is ever going to get fixed, we need to help her figure things out. How are we going to get her up to bed?”

“Like this,” Flynn said as he scooped April up in his arms like a baby and carried her up the steps.

Nessa followed behind him and closed the cellar door to keep Waylon out. “Put her on the bed in her old bedroom. I’ll pull out the trundle and sleep on it. She may need me before morning.”

“What she’s going to need if she drank that much whiskey is a bucket or a trash can.” Flynn carried her across the living room and down the short hallway. He gently laid her on the bed.

“So sorry, Nanny Lucy,” April muttered. “How did you sin?”

Nessa lined the small trash can next to the dresser with a plastic bag and set it within arm’s reach. If April started gagging, she could at least hold the can with one hand and hold her blonde hair back with the other one.

Flynn dragged the trundle bed out for her. “Call me if you need me. I’m going to leave my door cracked so Waylon can get in if he wants to.”

“Thanks,” Nessa said. “I wonder what she’s talking about. Nanny Lucy was a saint. She never sinned. She had mood swings, but she was too close to God to sin.”