Page 44 of Shit Happens in Ivydell

“She wants to sit next to your bed, dear.”

Yeah, the hairs on the back of my neck heard that. What the fuck? She wants to? Okay, then.

I slip back inside and set her on the nightstand, but I turn her so she faces the kitchen, not my bed. There are some things I just don’t think angels need to watch over. At least I hope there will be more action not meant for an angel’s eyes over the next month.

“Ready to go,” I say, and we set off at a very leisurely pace. The mushroom brew should be good and strong by the time we get there. The Spirit Sisters do not rush.

“Does the angel have a name?” I think they’ll say I can name her whatever I want, but it seems rude not to ask. I can’t explain that. These women always make me feel like I’ve shown up to class after not doing the assigned reading and am silently praying the teacher won’t call on me. And feeling guilty because I don’t even know who I’m praying to. Like hoping to win the lottery while knowing you didn’t bother with buying a ticket. You know it doesn’t work like that, but desperate times . . .

“Her name is Hilda.”

No. What? That’s not angelic. Hilda is getting a new name. There’s no way around it.

“She won’t mind if you change it,” Elma says. Probably not because she could hear my thoughts.

Jensen makes a beeline for me as soon as I enter the community center. “You really don’t want to try that mushroom coffee. Trust me. Hold your cup out to Tawny instead of Leo. She has regular coffee.”

“I already told Leo I’d try it. You look like you feel better.”

“I do.”

He walks with me to the counter, trying to change my mind with his eyes pulling toward Tawny when I stretch my hand toward Leo. I’m not going back on my word.

It’s not as bad as the first mushroom coffee I tried. This one has some chocolate in it. You can taste it, but it doesn’t drown out the earthy bitterness of the mushrooms. I drink it, anyway. If all the stuff Leo’s rattled off about it is true, I should have superpowers for the rest of the day.

Not to mention the sugar from Tawny’s special breakfast bars. No granola, plenty of brown sugar and cinnamon. And butter. They’re so rich and gooey and sweet that I could eat the whole pan.

I tell Tawny I’ll stick around and help them wash dishes, but she won’t let me.

“You’re sweet to offer, but hosting the coffee shop is something Leo and I do because we want to. That includes cleaning up and reorganizing after everybody’s done. This is a gift from us to our neighbors. You just accept it and go on with your day, knowing you don’t owe us anything.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

Everyone is disbursing, and I’m stalling. Jensen is still hanging around. He looks more delicious than those breakfastbars. If he keeps putting distance between us now, I’ll know it has nothing to do with him being sick.

He catches up to me when I head for the door. “Can I walk you home?”

“Sure.”

I’m not usually at a loss for words around him, but I can’t think of a single thing to say as we walk away from the community center.

A car I’ve never seen drives past. Jensen waves. “April’s back. I hope Petra is prepared for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“She can be a little high maintenance.” He looks to the sky the way some people do when a plane flies over, but there’s nothing up there. Not even a bird. “Maybe she won’t be this year.”

“Yeah, some people mellow with age.”

He looks at me as if I’ve handed him a hammer when he asked for a hairbrush, but then he quickly wipes the expression from his face, nodding as if he agrees with me. “Yeah. Some do.”

I’m missing something here, but I assume I’ll understand after I get to know April.

I know I don’t have to ask Jensen if he wants to come in when we reach Sparrow’s Song. There may not have been many words passing between us, but the sexual tension has been heavy.

And however badly he wants to stay for a while, I want him here even more.

His eyes roam around my space like he’s searching for something.

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