a knife.”
“Oh, Momma!” Gracie choked.
“She’s okay now, Momma. We’re all okay,” Rosie took my hand.
Gracie began to cry, softly. I reached over and rubbed her back until she stopped. Then she slept, slumped against my shoulder. Rosie fell asleep, too.
Gradually, something like sleep moved through me. I dozed in waves of bright, dense dreams, surfacing long enough to awaken the girls and send them to their rooms. Several times, I had to assure them that I was okay. They murmured apologetically as they stumbled in the darkness toward the door.
Then I slept, a true, deep sleep.
When I next awoke, the brilliance of noon light washed through the bedroom and Adam lay next to me, propped up on his elbow. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, though I had no idea how okay I was. “And you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. But I’m sorry I didn’t get back before you fell asleep.”
I shook my head. “It’s all right. I sent you out to . . .” I had a sudden vivid recollection of his face changing. I rubbed my eyes and pulled my head back a little to focus. His features held. In fact, his face seemed a little sharper, more distinct than normal. His eyes glowed. His skin was clear and ageless. I caught my breath.
He placed his hand gently on my diaphragm. “It was LSD.” He studied my face. “You look a little rough.”
“Adam, it felt a thousand times stronger than the marijuana we smoked.” Slowly, in lumpy, halting sentences, I told him what it had been like for me. He listened intently, not once interrupting with questions. His eyebrows shot up at my recitation of his strange metamorphoses.
When I got to the part about Jennie, he closed his eyes, turned his head away, and moaned. “I’m glad the girls were with you after that. I should have come right back after I found out what was in the Kool-Aid instead of trying to find them. I searched everywhere. All those cars and vans. Even the stables. Then I came back here and found all three of you sleeping peacefully. Are you sure you’re all right?” He slipped his hand around mine.
I managed to nod convincingly.
He kissed my forehead. “I wanted to find the girls so badly because I heard something.”
I felt myself smile, my face involuntarily reflecting his. “What? Why are you so happy? What did you hear?”
“I heard one of the girls, Evelyn.”
“What do you mean? Heard?”
“My voice from one of them.” He pressed my hand to his breastbone. “I was on my way out to the fire circle with the Kool-Aid when suddenly I felt it.” He opened his arm and his hand swept a graceful curve above me. “So beautiful!” He laughed.
I sat up. “What?”
“Evelyn, I’ve never heard that except when the sound was coming out of me!” His face shone.
I blinked.
“It had to be one of the girls. I know what I heard. I felt it here.” He beat his chest softly.
“Gracie? Rosie?”
“I don’t know, but I wanted to find out. I dropped the pitcher and ran. There must have been a hundred kids around the fire. Faces, light, music. I couldn’t find Gracie or Rosie. But it had to be one of them.” He slipped off the bed. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up all night. We need to talk to them about all of this, now. I called Pauline and asked her to keep Lil and Sarah at her place for the rest of the afternoon. But first let me make you some breakfast. You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.”
I pulled on my robe and followed him into the kitchen.
I distinctly remembered him drinking his first glass of Kool-Aid, then at least one other after that. How could he be so normal?
He pulled out a chair for me and set a cup of coffee on the table.
I sat down and rubbed my eyes. The sun glared through the windows. My brain felt like the transparent, crispy edges of the fried eggs he sat before me a few minutes later. I pushed the plate away and asked for dry toast and water.
“I’ll wake up Gracie and Rosie,” Adam said as soon as I’d finished eating.
While he went to wake the girls, I watched the salt and pepper shakers on the table and stroked the scratchy leaves of the now well-behaved zinnias. I tried to muster some idea of how we should deal with Gracie and Rosie. Adam had drunk as much of the Kool-Aid as me, maybe