“Oh my God…”
“I’m sorry,” Levi apologized. “It’s just after two in the afternoon. I’ve been trying to wake you for the last five minutes. I called your name but you didn’t stir.”
“You scared the shit out of me—again. Damn it, Levi…”
She paused, sniffing the air.
“What do I smell?”
Levi winked, bowing slightly. “Breakfast. Well, technically, it’s lunch. Or brunch. But I made breakfast.”
She breathed deep through her nose, savoring the aroma of fried bacon and eggs. Her mouth watered.
“You made breakfast? You can cook?”
Levi flinched. “Don’t sound so surprised. All Amish men can cook. That’s how we keep our women happy.”
“But you’re not Amish anymore.”
He grinned. “Well, I still like to make women happy.”
Maria blushed and looked away. Clearing his throat, Levi quickly stepped backward.
“Why don’t you go ahead and grab a shower,” he suggested. “And change.”
“Are you saying I stink?”
“No,” he laughed. “Actually, we should hurry. But I’m sure you want to freshen up a bit. We’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Although I’m afraid Adam has already started eating.”
“How’s he doing? Any better?”
Levi made a seesaw motion with his hand. “He’s pretty quiet. I think he’s most likely depressed. It’s probably starting to sink in that he’s on the run. And I imagine that without his daily dose of whatever medication they had him on, there will be mood complications. We need him compliant and cooperative. Let’s just try to steer the conversation away from his wife and friends. At least until we get to the Ghost Walk.”
“And what happens then?”
“God’s will.”
“Is that all?”
Levi shook his head. “Go shower. I’ll fix you a plate and keep it warm.”
“Okay.” Stretching, she got out of bed. “Don’t let Adam eat it all. It really smells good, and I’m starved.”
As if to prove her point, Maria’s stomach grumbled.
Blushing again, she giggled.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Levi said.
“Told you I was hungry.”
After he’d left, Maria shut the bedroom door and then stepped into the bathroom. She closed the bathroom door behind her as well, and turned on the exhaust fan. Then she began stripping off yesterday’s clothes and tossing them in the hamper.
“Gross,” she muttered as she pulled off her jeans. “These could stand up on their own at this point.”
Finished, she turned on the shower and let it run. Then she lit a vanilla-scented candle. While the water heated, she sat down on the toilet. Steam filled the bathroom, coating her body and opening her pores. Maria sighed. She already felt better and she hadn’t even cleaned up yet. She got up from the toilet, remembering not to flush because when she did while the shower was running, the water’s temperature became scalding. Then she pulled back the shower curtain and slipped beneath the spray. The hot water drummed against her scalp, soaking her hair and running down her back and breasts. It felt luxurious. She stood there for several minutes, just enjoying the sensation. She whistled and hummed. Then she grabbed her loofa and some vanilla bean body wash, and scrubbed, lathering herself in bubbles. Her stomach rumbled again as she rinsed.
Reluctantly, Maria turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She dried off quickly, wrapped her hair in a towel, and brushed her teeth. Then she got dressed. She chose a sweatshirt and jeans, and pulled her still-damp hair into a ponytail. She put on a ball cap, and then looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Maria liked what she saw. She was a new woman.
Except for the dark circles under her eyes.
“New woman, hell. I look like shit.”
She opened the bedroom door and walked out into the kitchenette, catching Adam and Levi in midconversation. Both were seated at her tiny table. Adam was polishing off what she assumed was his second plate of bacon and eggs, along with fried potatoes. A half-empty glass of water and a cup of coffee sat in front of him.
“So, anyway,” he said around a mouthful of potatoes, “those were the only three I had published. Cold As Ice, Heart of the Matter and When the Rain Comes. I started a book about the Civil War. It was supposed to be my big literary breakthrough novel. Was going to get me out of the midlist genre ghetto. Make me some real money. But I never got the chance to finish it. I guess I sort of lost my stomach for it, after…”
His voice trailed off. A shadow passed over his face.
Sensing his impending mood change, Levi tried to change the subject.
“Did they let you write in the hospital? Surely, they wouldn’t let a man of such God-given talents squander his abilities.”
Adam’s laugh was short and humorless. “Sure. They encouraged it, in fact. But they wanted me to write about what had happened, and I’d had enough of that. Everything an author writes is to some extent autobiographical. Our joys and fears, good times and bad, the people we meet in life—all of that is fodder for the muse. Especially the bad stuff. It’s like you cut open a vein and bleed out onto the page. But writing about Tara and Hylinus and the babies and Big Steve and all the rest? That wouldn’t have been bleeding for my work. It would have been a fucking hemorrhage.”
“So you didn’t write?” Levi kept his voice calm and level.
“Oh, I wrote.” Adam devoured another slice of bacon. “What little I could, with crayons and paper. But I didn’t let them see it. No way. I couldn’t. If I had, they would have made it worse on me.”
“Why? What did you write about?”
Adam leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I started a new novel. I called it, Darkest of Dark. It was all about this thing we’re fighting—He Who Shall Not Be Named.”
Levi flinched, taken aback. His hands gripped the table. His knuckles were white. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
“But how—”
“How did I know? Coincidence. I read those books. Read LeHorn’s journal. That’s all.”
“Adam,” Levi said, “tell me the truth.”
“Okay, you caught me. I wrote about it because Tara came to me in my dreams. She told me a living darkness was coming. It would sweep across the land, consuming everything in its path. A darkness that was darker than dark. Something that could not be named. But we know what the name is, don’t we, Levi? Its name is No—”
“Stop! Don’t finish that sentence. Don’t speak it out loud!”
“I’m not afraid of it!” Adam yelled, instantly changing from conversational to combative. “Not Hylinus. Not God. Not Nod—”
“Hey,” Maria interrupted, making her presence known. She sensed the tension in the air, saw which direction the conversation was heading again. Mindful of Levi’s warnings to keep Adam happy and calm, she tried to distract him. “I hope you saved some for me, Adam.”
His demeanor changed again. Smiling, he nodded, sweeping his hand above the table.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Check it out. Levi’s not too bad of a cook. He even chopped up some onions and fried them in with the potatoes.”
“I would have added peppers,” Levi said, “but I couldn’t find any.”
“I’m surprised you found what you did,” Maria said, sitting down. “I’ll have to check my fridge more often. I didn’t know all of this was in there.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Some more of your magic, Levi? Don’t tell me you conjured all this up. I’m willing to believe a lot, but that’s stretching it.”
“No magic,” he said, setting her plate down in front of her. “While the two of you were still sleeping, I walked to the store. That was where I couldn’t find the peppers.”