“All right then.” He slowly backpedaled to stand next to Lucy. “I think she’s got a gun,” he said to her softly.
“Who doesn’t?” Lucy sighed, then raised her voice toward Abigail. “We came to tell you what’s going on with your man and boy. You can put the rifle down.”
Abigail stepped out onto the porch, rifle pointed at the ground. “Tell me what you like, makes no difference what I’m holding at the time.”
“It’s slightly rude,” Lucy said. Carter shot her a dark look, and she clamped her mouth shut.
“Rude ain’t nothing that I’ve done. Rude is breaking into people’s barns and pulling tricks on them.”
“Lots of people are sick, Abigail,” Carter said quickly. “Devon’s one of ’em.”
A line appeared between Abigail’s eyes as she studied the two teens. “Adam’s the one who’s sick. Devon took him down to your healer to make him well.”
“And she tried, Abigail, she did,” Lucy said, emotion making her voice thick. “But this sickness—it’s not like a normal fever. It’s polio, and Adam . . . he’s okay, but . . . he’s . . .”
“He’s crippled,” Carter said. “No way around it.”
Abigail’s mouth tightened. “What about Devon? What’s wrong with him?”
“Same thing,” Carter answered. “It’s not good, Abigail. You should come down, be with your husband.”
“You think, do you?” Abigail said, her mouth twisting. “So everyone can get a good look at the woman who won’t come down off the hill?”
Lucy glanced at Carter. He grasped her wrist, urging silence.
“You come up here, to tell me my man—who don’t get sick—is sick, and my boy—who was fine yesterday—is a cripple today. I wouldn’t believe either one of you if you told me it was raining and my head was wet with the drops.” She cocked the gun and strode toward them to the edge of the porch.
Carter stepped in front of Lucy. “We came up here to deliver a message,” he said, “and we’ve done it. We’ll be leaving now.”
“You came up here to make a fool of me,” Abigail hissed at them. “Devon ain’t sick with nothing but lust, looking at that woman who calls herself your mother, little girl. You wanna make a laughingstock of me, drag me down the hill so I see what’s really keeping him down there?”
Carter stepped backward, pushing Lucy behind him. “Nobody’s laughing down there, Abigail. I promise you that.”
“Go on then.” She jerked the rifle toward them. “Get on back down there and tell my man to come back to me, and bring my son. I know he’s whole, and I know he’s well, and I know you two are full of shit.”
Her voice cracked on the last word and she retreated back into the house, slamming the door behind her. Carter and Lucy stumbled down the decline of the hill as they headed for the woods, Abigail’s rising sobs breaking on their ears.
“Does she really think we’d make up a story to bring her down the hill for kicks?” Lucy asked.
“Hard to say.” Carter held a tree branch back for her to pass by before letting it snap back. She smiled to herself; a year ago he would’ve let it hit her in the face. “But don’t let what some crackpot thinks of you ruin your day.”
“It’s more likely the dead bodies’ll do that,” Lucy said.
Carter laughed and grabbed her hand suddenly. “Remind me never to come to you for comfort.”
She opened her mouth to apologize, but he waved her off and they walked on, fingers intertwined. They followed the stream downhill toward Vera’s, neither of them commenting on the fact that they were holding hands, or how very normal it felt.
Lucy dropped his hand as they came into the clearing near Vera’s cabin. She could hear Lynn clearly as they approached. “You’d better be damn sure about this,” she was saying. “Once it’s said, there’s no taking it back.”
“Something’s up,” Carter said.
The door was propped open, and through it Lucy could see Vera bent over her notes, exhaustion dimming the usual brightness of her eyes. “I’m sure,” Vera said quietly.
Lucy knocked hesitantly on the open door. “Uh . . . are we interrupting?”
Stebbs shook his head. “No. You need to come in here. Both of you. And shut the door behind you.”
Lucy’s trembling hand struggled with the simple hook-and-eye lock. Stebbs was only serious with her when things were dire.
The three adults looked at one another for a moment, the weight of their silence resting on Lucy’s heart more heavily than any words. “What? What is it?”
“Who’s gonna tell him?” Lynn asked, looking to Vera and Stebbs.
“Tell me what?” Carter asked, his hand finding Lucy’s despite the adults seeing.
Vera cleared her throat. “I’ve been looking at my notes, trying to figure out the source of the outbreak. You remember there was a lull, and then we got slammed by more sick than we had in the first wave.”