A Deep and Dark December(64)

“He’s worse, isn’t he?” Erin asked about her dad, staring at the boomerang pattern in the Formica tabletop.

“Yes.”

“How bad?”

Mabel hesitated, causing Erin to look up. Her expression said everything. Mabel had never been good at hedging. Donald had made a comment once about Mabel’s inability to keep her emotions from showing on her face. Something about the honesty of it and how he always knew where he stood with her. Erin thought the woman had never bothered to perfect her poker face so that people would ask her what was wrong and she could tell them the latest gossip with complete impunity. After all, they’d asked.

“He couldn’t talk when he woke up,” Mabel finally said. “Hasn’t said a word all day. Just looks at me with his fevered eyes. I don’t know what to do for him.” She covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

Erin sat there for a moment, uncertain. She’d never been close to Mabel. They’d been neither adversaries nor friends. Finally, she stood and went to Mabel. Stretching out a hand, she patted Mabel’s shoulder. She couldn’t help the slice of anger that stabbed at her. Mabel should’ve been consoling Erin. Not that she wanted the woman’s pity, but it would have been a nice gesture. A bridge-gapping effort that could’ve gone a long way. Instead Erin stood there, comforting the woman who was her aunt’s best friend and her father’s off and on lover in the kitchen her mother had decorated.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Mabel cried. “To Cerie. To Donald. This whole town.”

“Me either.”

“I wanted to take him to the doctor, but he made me promise not to. What am I supposed to do for him?” Mabel said, dabbing her face with the apron she wore. The apron Erin had given her mother that last Mother’s Day. “I just want my Donald back.”

“Me too.”

“What could be causing this? It seems like that storm brought more than rain. It also brought trouble. For everyone.”

“I wish I knew.”

“Has your ability been affected?” Mabel asked, looking up at Erin through her lashes.

For a moment, time slowed and Erin imagined what it would be like to share her ability with Mabel, how freeing it would be. And she realized that maybe she didn’t want to keep her secret anymore. Telling Mabel would be one way to reveal all, but was that how she wanted to break her silence after all this time? No. It was better this way, better to keep pretending she was as normal as everyone else, regardless of how they accepted her. She guessed it was all about what she could live with and the known evil versus the unknown.

“I don’t have any ability,” Erin said. “You know that.”

“Are you sure? I always thought you’d grow into one. Donald told me how he came into his later, in his early twenties. I thought maybe… Well, I guess it’s a blessing you don’t, considering what’s happening to Donald and Cerie.”

“I suppose so.”

The microwave dinged, prodding Mabel into action, wiping at her tears and fussing over the hot plate.

“Come and sit down.” Mabel set the plate on the table and looked back at Erin expectantly.

Erin did as she was told, the aroma of beef stroganoff made her mouth water and she realized she’d hardly eaten all day. “Thank you, Mabel. It looks wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mabel smiled and Erin thought maybe she’d judged her too harshly. Mabel sat across the table from her.

“I’ve never had a man kill himself over me,” Mabel slid in easily, ruthlessly. “What’s that like?”

Erin’s fork clattered against the plate and her jaw dropped open, but Mabel went on as though nothing was amiss.

“I heard there was a suicide note, professing his undying love for you. You should probably speak at his funeral. People would expect it. Although I wouldn’t wear black.” Mabel leaned forward and whispered, “You weren’t married, after all, just dating, right? But that’s not the same.” She sniffed back another tear, her gaze darting longingly to where Erin’s father sat in the other room. “I should know.”

Erin scraped her chair back from the table and started to rise, revulsion gnawing at her insides.

“Where are you going?” Mabel asked. “You’ve hardly touched your dinner. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, sit back down.” She waved Erin back. “I won’t mention Keith again. You poor dear. Sit.”

Erin eyed Mabel, then her plate. She was ravenous.

“Please sit.”

Erin dropped back into her seat and picked up her fork, her gaze frozen on Mabel as if she was a viper poised to strike at the least provocation. She began shoveling food into her mouth as Mabel switched gears, gossiping about Jessica and the Billings boy, as Mabel called him. By the time Erin scooped up her last bite, Mabel must have decided that her window of getting anything out of Erin was quickly closing.

“How’s Sheriff Doran senior? I heard they took him to the hospital.”

“I don’t know.”

“You know, I always thought Keith was wrong for you. Now, a man like the current Sheriff Doran—”

“Thank you for dinner, Mabel,” Erin said, rising. “I’m beat. I’ll say bye to my dad on my way out.” She paused, thinking that Mabel wasn’t all bad, she just couldn’t help herself. “Thanks for taking care of Daddy. I really appreciate it.”