Page 42 of Baking and Angels

Bless-ed French Toast

“I’m so glad you came,” Cindy’s mother, Ms. Hawthorn, said as she led them up the stairs of her house. It was a nice place. Had the touches of money to it without being ostentatious. Rafferty had cooked in several places such as this, all for various reasons, very few of them good. But Cindy’s mother didn’t seem like a woman who would summon a demon for any reason, even as she unknowingly welcomed a former one in.

“Thank you for picking us up at the station,” Helena said, pitching her voice low to match the tenor of Ms. Hawthorn’s soft words.

The matriarch waved it off. “She’s been in bed for ages. At first, we just let her rest, you know, after everything. Recover. But then she stopped getting up at all. She’s barely eating unless I sit there and make her. I’ve never known her to be like this. She’s always been such a go-getter. So driven. I am starting to get concerned.” And that was evident from the fretting she did with her hands. Rafferty was pretty sure she hadn’t drawn breath since they crossed thethreshold.

“It’s okay, Ms. Hawthorn. I know some tricks to get her going again,” Helena said self-assuredly. Anyone else may have looked down their noses at such a bold statement, but Ms. Hawthorn seemed to take comfort from it.

They reached a landing, treading softly over beige carpet, wearing only socks. It struck Rafferty as odd to be required to remove shoes at the door, especially since they hadn’t walked through mud or anything. Yet, he didn’t question it; he only followed Helena’s lead. She didn’t seem to think it odd.

Past a banister that lined the hall, there were several doors, all closed. He guessed they were most likely the bedrooms of the family. Cindy’s mother stopped at the one at the end, knocking twice before cracking thedoor open.

“Cindy, honey. You have visitors,” she said with a soft, sweet voice.

She opened the door wider, and Helena moved past. Rafferty only followed when Ms. Hawthorn looked at him with expectation in her eyes. All of this felt awkward. He hated it. He didn’t know Cindy. She wasn’t his friend.

The inside of Cindy’s room was dark and sleepy. He could make out a bed against the farthest wall and some other furniture only by the light coming from the open door, or rather coming from the slit since Cindy’s mother shut it most of the way and retreated, giving them some privacy.

Helena didn’t seem to have any trouble with the dimness, though it bothered him that his eyes weren’t adjusting as fast as they used to. She went straight to Cindy’s bed and sat down on the edge of it next to the lying form.

“Hey,” she said with kindly warmth, and brushed at Cindy’s hair.

“What are you doing here?” Cindy asked, her voice coming out small and heavy with sleep.

“We came tosee you.”

“My mom called you, didn’t she?” she saidbitterly.

“No, I came myself. I was always going to come see you,” Helena said, continuing to brush Cindy’s hair. It was how she would brush his own hair. He found watching her do that to someone else, even her longtime friend,maddening.

“What about your Winter Rose Ball event?” The other woman lifted her head a bit. “Has it alreadyhappened?”

“Yeah, it went well,” Helena lied, or semi-lied, neatly stepping around the things that had not gone well immediately after the things that had. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“What were you going to do, watch me wallow?” Cindy grumbled, laying her head back down. “I’ve fucked everything up. My career, my life. Did it all to myself.”

Helena glanced up at Rafferty. The eerie feeling of her aura strengthened, and he shivered with it.He knew what she was tempted to do. He shook his head at her.

“Hey, Cin, would you like to get up? You hungry?” Helena asked, her aura pulling back. “We just had dessert on the train, but it’s almost time for a late lunch.”

“We?”Cindylifted herheadand looked straight at Rafferty. “Oh. I remember you.”

He nodded his head to her in acknowledgment, only to realize she might not be able to see it in thedimness. “Hello.”

“What are you hungry for?”Helena asked.

The form on the bedshrugged.

Rafferty felt something shift in the atmosphere in the room, as Helena kept stroking Cindy’s hair. “How about Bless-ed French Toast in a cup?” she said, emphasizing theedof the word. “All you have to do is say yes and it’s yours.”

She lay there, considering it a moment. “K,” she finally said, her voice becoming stronger, livelier. “But I should probably get dressed or something.”

“That’s fine, we can go down and get started, and you can join us when you’re ready,” Helena said, getting up. “Besides, I got a world-class chef here. Maybe we can find a way to take it all upa notch.”

Cindy looked to Rafferty, and he gave a small wave.

The former doctor finally sat up and grasped at her bed-mussed hair, running her fingers through it in a vain attempt to look presentable. “God, you should have said. I’m sorry you have to see me in such a mess.”

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