Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(15)
A small hand on her forearm startled her awake. “Nana,” Opal said in a near whisper, “Jilo. She ain’t in bed.”
Groggy, May looked down at Opal, and then, as soon as her grandbaby’s message registered, scanned the room for any sign of the little one. “Don’t worry, she got to be around here somewhere.” May pushed herself up, her knees and back complaining as she did. “Where’s Poppy?”
Opal’s wide and frightened eyes followed her in the darkness. “She’s still asleep.”
May shuffled to the table where she’d left the lamp. After removing its chimney and twisting up its wick, she struck a match and touched the flame to the fuel-soaked cloth. The light cast wavering shadows around them as she replaced the chimney.
She lifted the lamp and headed down the hall that ran the length of her four-room wood-frame house, stopping to poke her head in through the opening to Jesse’s old room, where she could make out Poppy’s sleeping shape curled up in the center of the bed. She craned her head around the door frame. “Jilo,” she called out in a whisper that she hoped would get the baby’s attention without waking her older sister. Poppy didn’t stir, but neither did Jilo respond.
May stepped into the room and set the lamp on the nightstand, pushing through the stiffness in her knees to kneel by the bed and search the space beneath it. She had felt certain she would find the child curled up there, sleeping with her tiny fist in her mouth, but there was no sign of her. Up until then, May hadn’t felt worried, but now a sense of apprehension crept up on her, twisting up like kudzu through the pit of her stomach and curling around her heart. She bumped into the bed, causing Poppy to stir. “ ’S’alright, girl,” she said, hoping to keep Poppy from fully waking. “It’s just yo’ Nana.” The girl seemed satisfied enough with her reassurance to go straight back to sleep. May rocked her way back up to her feet and slipped over to the closet.
“I done looked in there,” Opal whispered from behind her.
“Well, Nana’s gonna look just once more.” May tried to keep her tone measured, her movements unhurried. She eased the door open and poked her head inside. The small space was empty except for the fading smell of naphthalene, and a few odds and ends Jesse had left behind. May’s skin prickled, a sensation that felt both cold and hot at the same time. Her intuition told her that something was wrong, but she forced herself to keep a cool head, if only to avoid frightening Opal.
She left the closet door ajar and fetched her lamp, this time crossing the hall and going into her own room, the mirror image of the one where she’d left Poppy soughing. Opal followed on her heels, then dropped to the floor to examine the space beneath the bed.
After a moment, Opal looked up and shook her head. “They something wrong with that girl,” she said, her words and tone an obvious parroting of a pronouncement May felt sure Betty had made many times.
“There’s nothing wrong with that girl. Nothing wrong with Jilo at all.” May’s blood boiled in her veins, but she kept her voice low and calm. She went to her own closet, opening it wide and using her free hand to push back the few dresses she had, to see if they might be serving as camouflage for her hidden granddaughter. Shaking her head, she turned back toward Opal.
“Jilo,” May called out in a sharp voice, her concern for Jilo now overriding her fear of stirring Poppy. There was no response. May grabbed the lamp and headed for the only other room in the house, the kitchen. A smile came to her face. Of course. The girl was probably in there searching for a sweetie of some kind. May hurried down to the end of the hall and over the threshold into the kitchen. Her heart nearly stopped beating. Unlike the front of the house, with its outer screen door that screeched no matter how often May oiled the darned spring, the back exit had no built-in method of announcing the flight of a child.
The back door stood wide open.
Barely pausing to place the lamp on the table, May rushed out the back and scanned the landscape for any movement. “Jilo!” May called out, this time not worried if she waked those waiting for Jesus. “Jilo, girl, where are you?”
“Maybe she gone to the privy?” Opal asked.
“On her own?” May snapped, but when she saw the stricken look in her grandbaby’s eyes, she reached back and placed her hand on Opal’s shoulder. “Maybe you right. Don’t you worry, Nana will find her. You just go and keep an eye on Poppy.” She patted the girl, giving her a slight nudge, but Opal didn’t budge. “Go on. You do as Nana tells you.” She forced a smile, hoping the shadows wouldn’t hide it from the girl’s sight. “That fool baby sister of yours is just out here playing. You get on inside and get in bed. I’ll be in soon.”
May ushered Opal over the threshold and pulled the door shut behind her. Then she turned back toward the yard and hurried down the back steps, her fear loosening her joints. “Jilo,” she called every few feet. Deciding to start with Opal’s idea first, she made a beeline for the outhouse, but it was empty. Oh dear, sweet Jesus, she thought as she wondered if she might have neglected to cover the well. She ran around to the far side of the house, not taking a full breath of air until she saw the cover was indeed in place.
She stepped back from the well and began to slowly spin around, training her eyes on every moving shadow. Nothing that her eyes could see in the moon-softened night bore the form of her granddaughter. May regarded the position of the moon. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half, and Jilo was still pretty new to walking, falling back on her buttocks every fifth or sixth step. How far could she have possibly gone on her own?