“And what’ll that do?” Cooper asked, brow furrowed.
“It’ll send a message,” I said. “That they don’t get to slide back in here without pushback. That the people of Willow Grove don’t want them here—not in our community, not preaching fire and brimstone under a tent just outside of town.Not again. Not ever.”
Loretta spoke next, her voice strong and sure. “There’s power in presence. That’s how we’ve always done it—show up, stand firm, make it known that you’re not afraid. You don’t need a weapon to make your point. You need witnesses.”
I nodded, grateful for her backing. “Exactly. We don’t want a scene. We don’t want a fight. We want them to see that we are not backing down. We want them to know that their grip is broken, and we’re not letting them twist it back around this town’s throat…that we can sit quietly and politely and listen to their message andstill say no.”
There was a quiet murmur of agreement. Even those who looked uneasy weren’t pushing back.
So it was settled; we would take on the Remnant with grace.
After a few final questions—mostly about timing, directions, and who’d bring the folding chairs—the crowd began to break up. The church filled with the usual after-meeting buzz of scraping chairs, leftover cookies disappearing into napkins, and the occasional “I’ll text you when I know for sure.”
Silas wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You did good, baby,” he murmured. “I’m proud of you.”
I leaned back into him, letting myself feel it—his arms, the support, the strange peace that came from knowing we had a plan. It wasn’t foolproof. But it was something.
Across the room, Loretta and Francine had already pulled Mabel into a conversation I was sure would result in several phone trees and at least one scandal. Beau and Whit were deep in discussion, probably about strategy disguised as sibling banter. Delilah was halfway to the kitchen with an empty tray when I noticed Flora still standing near the door.
She hadn’t taken a seat. Hadn’t spoken.
But now she was watching me.
I gave Silas a quick squeeze and stepped away, padding over to her.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
Flora gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. “You spoke well,” she said. “Clear-headed. With conviction. It’s good, what you’re doing.”
I felt a prickle of uncertainty. “But you’re not coming.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head gently. “That’s not where I’m needed.”
I opened my mouth, not sure what I meant to say—but she was already reaching into the satchel slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a small glass vial, stoppered with wax and twine, something dark and glittering swirling inside.
“I won’t be there in person,” Flora said, pressing it into my hand, “but I’ll be there all the same.”
My fingers curled around it instinctively, and it felt…warm, like it was alive. I almost blanched at the strange sensation as it buzzed up my arm, but I knew on some bone deep level that this was for safety—not for harm.
“Thank you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what I was thanking her for.
“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “And for what it’s worth…even if you and Silas were doing this alone, she wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”
“She?” I asked.
Flora’s smile deepened. “You know who I’m talking about.”
Then she winked and just…left.
I stood there for a long moment, listening to the sounds of the others behind me—laughter, chatter, the shifting of chairs and shoes on wooden floors, all the life we’d gathered under one roof. Silas came to stand beside me, slipping his hand into mine, and his brow furrowed when he saw the little bottle clutched in my other hand.
“Huh,” he said. “Flora give you that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “She’s…she’s a little spooky, huh?”
Silas snorted. “People say the same thing about me.”
I met his eyes. “Right—so can you explain what this is?”
