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"You poor dear." She struggled to smile. "I missed your jambalaya. Was it good?"

"Yes, Grandmere, although I was too worried about you to eat much. What happened to you?"

"The strain of what I had to do, I suppose. That poor little boy was bitten by a cottonmouth, but on the bottom of his foot where it was hard to see. He was running barefoot through the marsh grass and must have disturbed one," she said.

"Grandmere, you've never been this exhausted after a treater mission before."

"I'll be all right, Ruby. Please, just get me some cold water," she said.

I did so. She drank it slowly and then closed her eyes again.

"I'll just rest some more and then get up, dear," she said. "You go on and have something for breakfast. Don't worry. Go on," she said. Reluctantly, I did so. When I returned to look in on her, she was fast asleep again.

Before lunch, she woke up, but her complexion was waxen, her lips blue. She was too weak to sit up by herself. I had to help her and then she asked me to help her get dressed.

"I want to sit on the galerie," she said.

"I must get you something to eat."

"No, no. I just want to sit on the galerie."

She leaned fully on me to stand and walk. I was never so frightened about her. When she sat back in the rocker, she looked as though she had collapsed again, but a moment later, she opened her eyes and gave me a weak smile.

"I'll just have a little warm water and honey, dear."

I got it for her quickly and she sipped it and rocked herself gently.

"I guess I'm more tired than I thought," she said, and then she turned and gazed at me with such a far-off look in her eyes, a small flutter of panic stirred in my chest. "Ruby, I don't want you to be afraid, but I wish you would do something for me now. It would make me feel less . . . less anxious about myself," she said, taking my hand in hers. Her palms felt cold, clammy.

"What is it, Grandmere?" I could feel the tears aching to emerge from my eyes. They stung behind my lids. My throat felt like closing up for good and my heart shrunk until it was barely beating. My blood ran cold, my legs had turned to lead bars.

"I want you to go to the church and fetch Father Rush," she said.

"Father Rush?" The blood drained from my face. "Oh, why, Grandmere? Why?"

"Just in case, dear. I need to make my peace. Please, dear. Be strong," she begged. I nodded and swallowed back my tears quickly. I would not cry in front of her, I thought, and then I kissed her quickly.

Before I turned to leave, she seized my hand again and held me close.

"Ruby, remember your promises to me. Should something happen to me, you won't stay here. Remember."

"Nothing's happening to you, Grandmere."

"I know, honey, but just in case. Promise again. Promise."

"I promise, Grandmere."

"You'll go to him, go to your real father?"

"Yes, Grandmere."

"Good," she said, closing her eyes. "Good." I gazed at her a moment and then ran down the galerie steps and hurried to town. On the way my tears gushed. I cried so hard, my chest began to ache. I arrived at the church so quickly, I didn't remember. the journey.

Father Rush's housek

eeper answered the doorbell. Her name was Addie Cochran and she had been with him so long, it was impossible to remember when she wasn't.

"My grandmere Catherine needs Father Rush," I said quickly, an edge of panic in my voice.