Page 59 of The Moonlight Healers

Peter’s eyes moved back and forth between them. “Sorry, who are you?”

“You must be the kid from the trail,” Jake mumbled, tripping slightly as he took a step. “Caroline told me what happened. How one minute you couldn’t even move your ankle. And the next you were completely fine. Strange, isn’t it?”

Peter stepped forward, placing his body between her and Jake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Henley,” Louise pleaded. She couldn’t tell him he was wrong, that she couldn’t save Sarah. She couldn’t let Peter hear those words, that she was a healer, that a life brought back from death or near death couldn’t endure. She couldn’t bear for him to find out that way, in a parking lot with a stranger.

Jake held her eyes. And she saw it reflected back at her, the truth about her healing abilities, about her family. “I thought it was crazy too, at first, that Caroline was making it up. But why would she lie about something like that?” He stared past Louise, up toward the orchard. “And then I thought about the stories. About your family. I always thought the people who claimed there was some kind of magic were just old country people with nothing better to do, rambling about your great-grandmother, this French healer…”

Peter looked at Louise, comprehension dawning.

“Sarah always says that nothing makes her feel better than when Camille is there,” Jake continued. “That it’s the only time she’s not in pain. And why, you know? Why would she be any different than the other nurses?”

“We have to go.” Louise’s mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she even spoke the words. She knew what was coming, what he was going to ask of her. But she couldn’t save Sarah. The same way she couldn’t save Peter.

“I’m sorry,” Jake slurred. “I don’t want any trouble. This won’t take more than a few minutes. But I have to insist. You need to come with me first.”

“I can’t,” Louise said. “Please know that I can’t. I can’t do anything.” Time was ticking away. She needed to be alone with Peter.

Peter made a noise of protest as Jake went around him and grabbed her arm. She was suddenly aware of how tall he was, his body towering over her, drowning out the sky.

“Let go of her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her. I just need her to come with me for a few minutes.” Jake loosened his grip. “She’s my daughter’s friend. I just need her to see my wife. To…to help her.” His arm shook slightly as he let go of Louise and he backed away.

Louise glanced toward the house. “My grandmother. She can help. Please. Ask her instead.”

Jake shook his head. “She won’t. She told me I shouldn’t bother getting Sarah seen at Duke like I’ve been trying. Told me I need to accept this all.”

Louise kept her eyes on the front porch, as though willing her grandmother to appear, to guide her, the way she had at Sarah’s house.

“She’s in so much pain,” Jake continued. “Please. Can you at least try?”

Louise looked into his eyes, two bottomless wells of grief. She nodded, before she could stop herself.

“You don’t need to go anywhere with him,” Peter said into her ear.

“I know.” It all raged like a wildfire inside of her, Jake’s desperation, her own clawing panic over Peter. She had no idea how to fix any of it. But she could at least give Sarah some shred of peace. It was the only thing in the world she knew with any certainty. “But it’s okay. I want to go.”

“Then I’m coming with you.” He stood taller as he addressed Jake. “I’m coming with her.”

“Fine,” Jake grunted. “We can take my car.”

When they reached his truck, Jake opened the back door and they climbed in.

“What is happening?” Peter muttered but grew quiet when Louise clutched his hand.

At the Henleys’ house, Caroline stood on the porch, her face pale. “What did…?” She trailed off as she looked from Louise to Jake to Peter. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.” A small, little sob escaped her body. “I had to tell him.”

“It’s okay,” Louise said as she held her old friend’s eyes. “I understand.”

“Let’s go inside,” Jake said from behind them. “The sooner we do this the sooner you can both go home.” There was an apologetic note in his voice as he steered her into the house.

Sarah was sleeping in the bed, her forehead sweaty and eyelids fluttering as Louise approached. Her breaths were irregular, her bony chest rising and falling in labored waves.

“Hi, Sarah,” Louise said softly. She placed her hands on Sarah’s chest as the slow, familiar heat built inside of her skin. And then she closed her eyes.

The room was silent. Peter stood only inches behind her, hovering protectively.

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