The pastor glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “Is that them?”
Keira could only nod.
The pastor’s lips pursed. He crossed to a large, heavy wood wardrobe and opened the door. In here, he mouthed, beckoning to her.
Keira gratefully slipped among the assortment of patched coats, umbrellas, and rain boots. The fist returned to the door, louder, and the pastor closed the wardrobe on her.
“I’m coming, don’t worry.” His voice had been steady when he’d spoken to her, but now it took on a warbling, feeble note as he called out to his new visitors. “These old bones don’t move as fast as they used to, bless me.”
She listened to him approach the front door, each step an exaggerated shuffle. The door groaned as he opened it and the sound of drumming rain intensified. With it came a new, unpleasantly raw noise. Heavy breathing, Keira thought. They’ve been running and are trying not to show it.
“Good evening.”
The voice sent a spasm of repulsion through Keira’s stomach. The speaker was trying to sound respectful, but she could almost taste the frustration concealed in it. “I’m looking for my friend. A young woman, thin, with light-brown hair and wearing dark clothes. Have you seen her?”
“Well, now…” The pastor hesitated, and Keira tasted fear. “I saw a young woman of that description in town earlier this week. You’re testing my memory, bless you, but I think she was—”
“No, tonight.” The voice became harsh as it cut across the pastor’s ramble, and the stranger cleared his throat before continuing in a calmer tone. “We became separated less than an hour ago.” A pause, then he added, “We had a small disagreement. She might have asked you to keep her presence a secret. But the sooner we can be reunited, the sooner I can help her.”
“Ah, forgive me, child. I haven’t seen anyone between coming home this afternoon and opening my door a moment ago.”
Thank you, Keira thought, clenching her fists to keep the fingers from shaking.
“Are you certain?” A hint of warning was introduced to the words. “It’s very important that I find her.”
“Bless you. Lying is a sin. I hope you don’t think I’d endanger my immortal soul over something so trivial.”
There was a silence that Keira struggled to interpret. She held her shoulders pressed tightly against the wardrobe’s back, fighting to keep still and not betray her presence. The rain seemed deafening. Keira had the awful sense that the stranger wasn’t going to be turned away so easily.
“On that subject,” the pastor’s voice took on tones of rapture, “I can’t help but feel that some greater purpose has led you to my home on this black night. Would you come in for a few moments? We could discuss your soul’s blessed destination over a nice cup of tea.”
The stranger didn’t bother trying to smother a disgusted grunt. Heavy feet crunched over the gravel path as he backed away. “Perhaps another time. I need to keep looking for my friend.”
“Safe journey, child,” the pastor called. A moment later, the front door groaned closed, and Keira dared to breathe again.
“Well. What fun.” The feeble tone dropped from the pastor’s voice as he opened the wardrobe, making Keira blink against the sudden light. “Whether it’s solicitors, tax men, or nosy relatives, I’ve never had that line fail on me. Come on, Keira, you’re getting water all over my shoes.”
Chapter Two
“Yes, sit there, please,” the pastor said. “I don’t like that one, so I won’t mind if it gets water stained.”
Keira obediently sank into the paisley armchair. The parsonage’s cozy sitting room was filled with an odd assortment of furniture, both modern and antique. A large fire crackled in the grate, radiating warmth through her soaked jeans and T-shirt, reducing some of her chills. The pastor took Keira’s jacket, hung it next to the hearth to dry, then turned to a door on the other side of the room. “My name’s John Adage, but I’m generally called just Adage. I think I have a first aid kit somewhere. Sit still a moment.”
“Thank you,” Keira called after his retreating back. She’d already said it when he let her out of the wardrobe, but once didn’t seem like enough. “And, um, sorry for making you lie.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” The clatter of plates told Keira her rescuer was in the kitchen. “Even ignoring the fact that betrayal would be a far greater sin, I never actually said anything untruthful, only that I hadn’t seen anyone between coming home and opening the door.”
Adage appeared in the doorway, a steaming bowl in one hand and a small white box in the other. He put the bowl into Keira’s hands, and she discovered the source of the tasty spice smell that permeated the house. It was some kind of stew, and Keira realized she was ravenous. She scooped a spoonful into her mouth, swallowed as quickly as the hot liquid would allow, and went back for more.
“You’re lucky you came tonight.” Adage pulled a wooden chair up beside her and opened the white box. “I usually only cook stew once a week. If you’d come yesterday, I would have been serving you TV dinners instead.”
Keira froze, spoon halfway to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to take your food—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pushed his glasses farther up his nose as he squinted at the instructions on the back of a bottle of antiseptic. “My job description includes feeding the poor, but there’s hardly anyone poor enough in this town to feed. You’ll do in a pinch.”
Keira couldn’t stop her laughter. She felt ludicrous. How the pastor could be so complacently cheerful was beyond her.
“Here we go.” He shook a cotton ball out of its bag and poured some of the clear liquid onto it. “This will probably hurt. Medical things always do, in my experience. That man wasn’t telling the truth, was he?”
Keira tried not to flinch as he pressed the cotton ball to her skin just below her hairline. “No. I don’t think so anyway. I don’t remember anything.”
“Amnesia?”
“I suppose so.”
“Hmm.” He dabbed a few times, then threw the cotton ball into the fire and began hunting for bandages. “Well, I’ve never met you before, which means you’re not from Blighty. It’s a tiny town, too small to avoid an acquaintance with anyone, which can sometimes be as much a curse as a blessing. You could be from Broadmeadow. It’s a twenty-minute drive away.”
Keira shrugged. “The name doesn’t ring any bells.”
Adage frowned as he began unraveling a roll of bandages. “I have no idea what I’m doing here, I’m afraid. Perhaps I should call the doctor.”
“No, you’re doing great.” The words tumbled out of her unbidden. The impulsive, reflexive part of her was certain she wanted to avoid hospitals and anything associated with them. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Just put a bandage on it, and it’ll be fine.”
“Mm.” Adage didn’t sound convinced, but he leaned forward to wrap the cloth around her head. “I can’t say I’m disappointed. Dr. Kelsey is a bit of a… Well, we’re told to love our enemies, in which case I can safely say that I love no one more than Dr. Kelsey.” He finished wrapping the bandage like a bandanna. “How does that feel?”