Nobody Knows Your Secret
Page 20
“I’m with you,” Hadley said.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Hadley,” Maury said, “what are you doing?”
“I’m planting an herb garden,” said Hadley. “I’ve gone to the library and checked out some books. I’ve been researching in the Internet.”
“All that for herbs? Aren’t they akin to weeds?” asked Maury. “I mean, don’t they grow easy enough that you don’t need to research for weeks to grow a successful herb garden?”
“No,” Hadley said, “not just herbs. I’ve been researching granny witches, too.”
“Did you hear from Ronnie and Runie?” Maury asked.
“No,” Hadley said. “But they are part of the reason my interest was sparked.”
“What’s the other part,” Maury asked.
“Well,” Hadley said, “I don’t know. You know I’m always curious.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Maury.
“I guess they got me to thinking about the old ways,” Hadley said, “you know, the old traditions like sin-eating and mad stones.”
“Which reminds me,” said Maury. “When are you ever going to take that rock off your window sill? That’s the only thing I could see the other night when I was helping you wash and dry the dishes. You know hunters look for those in a deer’s stomach. And looking at that thing tried to turn mine.
“Bill said to tell you the whole meal was fabulous, by the way.”
“Tell Bill that as long as he keeps heaping on the praise like that, I’ll keep experimenting with the spices and the ingredients,” said Hadley. “It was a good meal, even if I do say so myself.”
“Don’t change the subject,” said Maury.
“What subject?” said Hadley.
“That infernal rock,” said Maury. “I’ve researched that thing on my phone. Why, it came out of a deer’s guts.”
“I know that,” said Hadley. “I’m sure Runie or Ronnie always cut open the deer’s stomach to see if it contains mad stones. I think that’s one of the auras that makes mine so special.”
“Ugh,” said Maury. “It makes me sick. I mean, I handled the darn thing. Oh, gosh.”
“What?” said Hadley.
“What if I handled that nasty thing and stuck my fingers in my mouth, you know. Unconsciously! Oh, gosh. I think I’ll puke.”
“Oh, no you will not,” said Hadley. “Onus is the only one allowed to puke up a hairball on my floors and not get fussed at.”
“You are awful,” said Maury.
“And you are nice-nasty,” said Hadley.
“Oh, you sound just like mother,” said Maury.
“But let me change the subject,” said Hadley.
“Obvious ploy,” said Maury.
“I know,” said Hadley, “older sister’s prerogative. The old ways are quickly dying, Maury. I think it’s a shame.”
“Tell that to Ronnie and Runie,” said Maury. “Those two look like they could be sons of Lurch Addams.”
“Was his last name Addams?” said Hadley.
“Who knows,” said Maury. “I think that was his last name. I dunno. But you know what I mean.”
“Do you like where Skip and I hung the chimes?” asked Hadley.
“It’s a lovely spot,” Maury said. “It really is.”
“I think so, too,” said Hadley. “Want some coffee in the den?”
“Love some,” said Maury.
Outside, the wind began to blow. The soft musical tink-tinks of the chimes began to fill the yard. Hadley and Maury were seated in the den. The soft glow from the inside light showed them looking over an old scrapbook. Both women were sipping coffee, laughing, pointing at the old photos, and sharing memories.
The old woman peered in, quietly staring at the cozy scene. No one knew her exact age. She was as old as the mountains that gave her life. Her rheumy eyes were cradled in skin as weathered as an old barn. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. But you could not have noticed. It was as thin as parchment and as wrinkled as dry clay cracked under the hot sun of a long, unending drought.
Her back was bent from the problems of a thousand years, from the burdens of one who has lived a hard-scrabble life, from the many years of countless winter snows and spring rains. She was dressed in rags, once black, now gray with age. In one gnarled, work-worn hand, she held a walking stick, glassy and smooth with wear.
She watched the two, gazing through the window for several minutes. The wind grew fiercer, and the chimes played louder throughout Hadley’s yard. A bolt of lightning streaked silently across the sky, blue-white against ebony black. The old woman shook her head, disappearing back into the woods from where she came.
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Hadley Pell Book 1 (Nobody’s Sorry You’re Dead)
Hadley Pell Book 2 (Nobody Knows Your Secret)
Hadley Pell Book 3 (Nobody Can Say It’s You)
Also by Jeri Green
Hadley Pell Book 1
Hadley Pell Book 3!