Del said, “She. It’s a she.”
Otis stared at Ray Cobb. “That ain’t normal what she done. It ain’t natural.”
Del ignored him and spoke to Cornelia. “She was hot seeming. She ain’t sweating none, neither. She’s been breathing real hard.”
Cornelia laid a hand on Cobb’s brow. She took it away, glanced at the men jammed into the small space.
She said, “If I’m gonna try and help her, y’all got to get out.”
Otis said, “I need my supper!”
Cornelia said, “I put your plate on the table, Otis. Go on and eat, now.”
Del said, “If something happens, let me know. You need anything, let me know. Otherwise I’ll be back at first light.”
He left with Clyde knowing he might never get any answers as to the secrets of a woman named Ray Cobb.
Chapter 20
Rae Lynn
She quit fighting long before she got to Heaven. She stopped begging herself to hang on. She quit praying, quit wishing someone would find her. None of it mattered, and now she was here, and Heaven was everything. Whenever some remote tiny part of her brain awakened, if only enough to register something good happening, she savored it, then slipped away, diving deep into the dark. The landscape of her body carried the signs of war. Damaged. Weakened. Wasted.
All manner of good, if strange, things happened in Heaven. Her arms and legs, light as the wind, moved and lifted one by one, and she was touched by a soft coolness across her forehead, over her face, her breasts, belly, and thighs. She’d been in hell, burned by the brimstone, forced to breathe sulfur spewed by evil. No longer. Heaven held only freshness, gentleness, and soothing, slow movements. Her reward.
She didn’t know who in Heaven talked to her, but the voice came now and again, light and soothing, speaking like a mother to a child.
It said, “Safe.”
Sometimes, “Miracle.”
Other times, “Stay.”
Mostly, it only quietly hummed. An angel.
When there were words, she couldn’t understand if they were meant for her, or if the voice was only soothing the feverishness of her mind, as would be natural for such a fine, orderly place. She didn’t want to leave this sanctuary, but there were moments when it seemed the perfect thing to do. It would come on her like the sensation of falling, and by falling she understood deep within herself that if she gave in, if she allowed it, this fragile fragment of existence, such as it was, would be no more. She contemplated this choice many times over, stepped closer to some unknown edge more than once.
Only the light, cool touch would come again, and she’d turn into it, let it lead her back to Heaven and the tender, soothing state of rest.
Chapter 21
Del
He showed up to the little house beside the commissary before the sun was up, having spent the evening worrying, half expecting someone to come with the bad news. If the woman didn’t live, he would tell Peewee to call in the sheriff. If she did live, he wanted Peewee to kick Crow out of the camp. Hat in hand, he knocked on the door. Cornelia opened it and almost immediately started giving him an update.
“She ain’t changed much since yesterday. She’s hanging on, but barely. I was sure she was a goner a time or two,” Cornelia said.
Del said, “It’s hard to believe she ain’t.”
Cornelia said, “You want to see her?”
Del said, “If your husband don’t mind. It’s early yet.”
Cornelia waved a hand in dismissal. “Shoot. He ain’t even up.”
She took him to the backroom, where the wick was set low in the lantern, throwing his shadow tall and thin against the wall. Cobb lay there covered with only a thin sheet, her shoulders bare above it. She looked . . . well, she looked like hell. Her skin was pale, the color of flour, and her cheeks and eyes created hollow, dark areas that gave her the look of the dead. Her mouth was the brightest thing about her because her lips were reddened, swollen, and cracked.
Cornelia said, “I swiped some lard on her lips to help, but they still look painful.”
Del murmured, “You’re doing all you can,” as he approached the bed.
He couldn’t tell she was breathing, but there, there it was, a slow rise and sinking of the sheet. It hadn’t been quite as hot for him as it had been for her. He’d been trapped for a day. She’d lasted three. He stared down at her, curious about the story that went along with her reasons for disguising herself. If she made it, and right now that was still seeming a little sketchy, he was sure she was, had been, someone he’d have found admirable.