LITMIR.BIZ

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The town grieved, and then grief moved on, leaving only the brothers’ families to suffer the loss. Soon they, too, moved on, unwilling to stay in a place with such memories.

      There were those who claimed that the witch had put a curse on the Blairs and that they’d killed each other while under her spell. Then days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, then to years. Only now and then would someone mention the mystery at Pulpit Rock, and when they did, they would follow it with a prayer.

      It was part of their past, and that was exactly where they wanted it to stay. And stay it did—until Annie Fane returned.

       3

       Camarune, Kentucky, present day

       N ellie Cauthorn, the preacher’s wife at the Church of the Firstborn, had been saying all day that things didn’t feel right. She’d told Preacher so during breakfast. Then she went to the store to tell her best friend, Lovie Cleese, who owned Camarune’s only grocery. Lovie had heard Nellie’s predictions before and never put much stock in them. But in the midst of cleaning out the produce section, she heard a commotion out in the street, then heard Nellie screeching.

      Lovie darted toward the front of the store to see what was wrong. When she got to the window, her heart skipped a beat. A long black hearse from the Lexington Funeral Home had just run over a dog. The dog was past help, and from the looks of the casket just visible inside the hearse, so was the person residing inside.

      To Lovie’s dismay, at the sight of the dead dog, Nellie fell to the floor in a faint. By the time Lovie had revived her friend, the dog’s carcass had been removed from the street and the driver of the hearse was reimbursing the owner for the loss of his pet.

      Nellie was mumbling something about premonitions and wiping her face with the cloth Lovie pressed in her hand when another vehicle pulled up behind the hearse. The woman getting out of the dusty black Jeep was a stranger. Lovie judged her to be in her mid-twenties, and from the cut of her clothes, probably a city dweller, a bit above average height, and erring on the side of slender. But it was the blue-black hair brushing the tops of her shoulders that made Lovie take a step forward for a closer look. She squinted through the streaks in the windows, absently thinking they needed a wash, and kept staring.

      Who was she? She looked so familiar. But the thought wouldn’t connect.

       If only she’d turn her head a little bit to the…

      The woman turned, and for the first time, Lovie got a good look at her face.

      “Have mercy,” Lovie muttered. “Who is she?”

      “What? What is it now?” Nellie cried, gawking around Lovie’s shoulder toward the street.

      “That woman,” Lovie said.

      “What about her?”

      Lovie inhaled sharply. “She looks familiar.”

      “Looks like who?” Nellie urged, her curiosity piqued.

      “I don’t know…probably no one,” Lovie muttered. “I guess I was mistaken.”

      “She’s coming inside!” Nellie said.

      Lovie turned.

      The bell over the door jangled. The woman was standing in the doorway with a hesitant look upon her face. Her jeans were clean but travel-worn, as were her shirt and jacket.

      “Can I help you?” Lovie snapped.

      Nellie stared at Lovie as if she’d just lost her mind. Never in her life had she heard Lovie use that tone of voice with a customer.

      The young woman tugged at the lapels of her jacket, then took a couple of steps farther, letting the door close behind her.

      “I need to hire someone with a truck.”

      When Lovie remained silent, Nellie felt it her duty as the pastor’s wife to answer the stranger’s request.

      “Maynard Phillips down at the service station has a—”

      “Maynard’s probably busy,” Lovie snapped, interrupting Nellie before she could finish.

      The young woman’s gaze centered on Lovie’s face, silently acknowledging her rudeness, but she stood her ground.

      “Maybe there’s someone else?” she asked.

      Lovie shuddered. The way the stranger pursed her lips before speaking seemed familiar, although she knew good and well she’d never seen the woman before.

      “Doubt it,” Lovie said. “People are pretty busy around here.”

      The woman’s chin jutted mutinously, and for the first time since she’d entered the store, her voice took on an edge.

      “Does that come naturally, or do you have to work at it?” she asked.

      Lovie frowned. “Work at what?”

      “Being rude.”

      Nellie gasped. She hated confrontation. Her hands fluttered around her chest like butterflies caught in a cage as she gave Lovie a nervous glance before speaking.

      “I’m sure Lovie didn’t mean to be—”

      “Is there anything else you’d be needing?” Lovie snapped.

      This time, even Nellie was shocked at Lovie’s rudeness. “Lovie! What on earth is wrong with you?”

      Lovie didn’t answer. But it wasn’t because she wouldn’t. Truth be told, she didn’t know what was wrong. But every time she looked at that woman’s face, she got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. And Lovie Cleese hadn’t lived to be seventy-five without paying attention to her instincts.

      “Never mind,” the woman said. “I’ll be asking elsewhere. Surely there’s someone in this town who’s interested in making some extra money.”

      Nellie took a step forward. A pastor’s pay was far from generous. Maybe Preacher could borrow a truck.

      “What was it you were needing hauled?” she asked, ignoring Lovie’s indrawn hiss of disapproval.

      The young woman pointed over her shoulder. “My grannie’s casket.”

      Nellie’s eyes widened in sympathy. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

      All the stiffness of the young woman’s demeanor deflated as her voice softened.

      “Thank you,” she said.

      Nellie felt better. Condolences were part of her job as a pastor’s wife. She was on firm ground again, but curious. “The hearse is already here. Why can’t the driver take the casket to the cemetery for burial? It’s just at the edge of town.”

      The woman’s eyes disappeared behind a sudden pool of tears. Nellie sighed. Had it not been for Lovie, she would have put her arms around the girl and held her close.

      “Because Grannie wanted to be buried behind her old home,” the woman said. “I’ve already seen to the grave being dug, but I’ve been told that a hearse won’t be able to traverse the road up the mountain.”

      “That’s certainly true,” Nellie said, and then added, “exactly where are you headed?”

      The woman began digging through her jacket pockets. “Somewhere up the mountain above a place called Pulpit Rock. I’m sure I have the directions right here.” But when she couldn’t find them, she shrugged. “They’re probably in my car.”

      To Nellie’s disbelief, Lovie Cleese actually cursed. Fearing another confrontation, Nellie felt obligated to point out what she felt sure was a misdirection.

      “I’m sorry, my dear,” Nellie said. “I fear you’ve been misled. There’s nothing up there but the old witch’s cabin.”

      The woman jerked as if she’d been slapped. “I

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