Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(39)

May pulled the girl into her arms. She’d mailed a picture of Binah to both Opal and Poppy when she wrote to tell them they had a new sister, but a picture didn’t do much to make a body seem real. “ ’Course you did.”

Poppy relaxed into May’s arms. “I sure wish Opal could be here.”

May slid her hands to her granddaughter’s shoulders and pushed her back a little so they could look at each other. “How about tomorrow we call up the operator and have her put through a call to that sister of yours?”

“All the way in California?”

“All the way in California.”

Poppy threw her wet hands around May’s waist and squeezed tight enough to take the wind out of her. Pulling the girl close, May squeezed right back and leaned her head forward to breathe in Poppy’s scent.

A loud bang on the front door startled Poppy into making a little jump.

“Even on Christmas,” May muttered to herself. As she stepped back, she caught the worried look in Poppy’s eyes. The magic had never set well with Poppy. She never said so outright, but May knew it was a large part of the reason she’d wanted to get away. Hell, it was a large part of the reason May had let her go.

“I’ll get it,” Poppy said, ready to spring toward the door.

“No.” She held up her hand. “Don’t you worry, none, girl. Nana tell ’em to come back another time.”

May shuffled out of the kitchen and down the hall. Her steps fell heavier than they had in years past, and it was taking her more time to get around. May figured there was no escaping time, not even with the magic she had at her command. Another rap, followed by a quick and impatient series of bangs, sounded on the door. May stopped dead in her tracks. “I am coming,” she yelled in the direction of the knocking, “and if you keep banging away like that, you ain’t gonna want to see me when I get there.”

She took her time, more than she needed, really, to make it to the door and brush aside the curtain covering the door’s window. Once there, she flicked on the switch by the door, causing the exterior overhead light she’d installed that summer to burst to life, revealing the snow-dusted visage of Henry Cook. His sweet innocent face, combined with the wispy flakes of miraculous snow, gave the appearance of a Christmas ornament. Her annoyance faded at the sight of him. She hadn’t laid eyes on him since she’d stopped working at the Pinnacle. His face was unchanged, but the rest of him had gone through a growth spurt. The fellow who stood beneath the harsh glare of the porch light was no longer a boy. He was a young man. He wore a woolen flat cap and a threadbare coat way too big even for his newly broadened shoulders.

Healing his poor mama had been her first solo act of magic; she hadn’t been at all sure it would work, but she thanked God that this boy still had his mama. A hot wave of guilt flushed through her, knocking back the cold breeze coming in through the door. Was it God she should be thanking for such a thing? Well, hell, if she was damning herself using magic, she would do what she could to make some good come of it.

May opened the door. “Henry, what on earth brings you out on Christmas night? You should be home with your family.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mother Wills.”

For some reason hearing this young man address her by her working name cut her to the quick. “No, Henry. Don’t you call me that. We’re old friends, you and I. You call me May, or Mrs. Wills, if you must, but I don’t want you calling me Mother, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words came out wrapped in caution, and he seemed to deliberate before continuing. “Mrs. Wills. You gotta come with me. You gotta help. There’s something real bad goin’ on.”

The screen door gave its usual complaint as she pushed it open enough to signal for Henry to enter. One of these days she’d get around to replacing that damned spring. Henry reached out and took hold of the screen door, pushing it fully open and stepping into the main room, but not far enough for May to close the other door and shut out the cold. He shifted foot to foot, looking like the slightest noise might make him take flight.

“I just passed by Wildwood Church down the road,” he said in a rush. “There’s a group of white men there, and they got Pastor Jones with ’em.” May was taken aback by the name. She hadn’t given the young preacher a single thought since her mama’s funeral. “They done set the church on fire, and I’m afraid the pastor’s gonna get killed if you don’t do something.”

“All right. I’ll be right out.” May closed the door after Henry, and turned away.

Poppy stood at the end of the hall, just outside the kitchen door. She dried her hands on her apron, her nervous eyes focused on May. “Everything okay, Nana? Was that Henry?”

“Everything’s just fine, my sweet, sweet girl.” She paused. “Nana has to go out for a bit. She needs you to watch your sisters for her.”

“Of course, Nana.” Worry returned to Poppy’s eyes, and her smile flattened. “Where you going?”

“Don’t you worry about that.” May reached out for Poppy’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Nana will be home by morning. You just watch Jilo and Binah, and think about what you want to say to Opal when we call her. And don’t you worry, you hear?”

“Okay,” Poppy said, obedient as always.