“Uh-huh. She likes him a lot. He knows the Bible. He called her ma’am and called Daddy sir. He was polite. And he kept Sam outta jail. Mama’ll be matchmaking soon.”
“Oh dear,” I repeated.
“Him being a werecat ain’t no problem, not when Mama’s got love in her eyes.”
I suddenly understood JoJo’s actions the one time I’d seen her banging her head on her desk. “Ummm...” I started and floundered. I broke out into a sweat that had nothing to do with the temperature.
“And you like him too. I seen the way you look at him.”
“I have seen, or I saw,” I corrected, trying to figure out how to deflect this conversation.
“Right. Seen you looking at him like you like him. You gonna marry him?” Mud dropped onto her newly made bed and crossed her legs. She was wearing cotton pants and her hair was down, but her manner was all churchwoman in a matchmaking, gossiping mood. “I think the mamas would like it if you was married, even if it’s to a townie, but I ain’t sure about you being married to a cat-man.”
“Oh dear.” It sounded like a terrified moan. “Mud—”
“Have you’uns had sex yet?”
“Oh...” I flushed from my toes to the top of my red hair, though Mud wouldn’t be able to see it, beneath my woody coloration. “No. Mud—”
“When you’uns have sex, will you have kittens? Or plant-babies? Seeds with cat faces and fur?”
I blinked. “You’re teasing me.”
Mud burst out laughing. “You shoulda seen your face.” But then she went on, “That’s okay. You ain’t got to tell me. Mr. LaFleur said you’uns—you—shouldn’t come in to work tonight ‘lessen you feel like it. You going in to work?”
I was happy to have a break in the bombardment of questions about my romantic life and I could hear the restrained excitement in her voice. Mud liked it when she could camp out in PsyLED HQ while I did database research and paperwork, a temporary situation until I settled on child-care arrangements. “Maybe. Let’s see how I feel after a shower and getting dressed. Maybe we could do some of your shopping on the way in.”
Mud smiled, her face lighting up. “I’ll clean up the lunch dishes. You shower.” She was trying to sound blasé about the trip into town, but I knew that my sister had developed a love of shopping for store-bought clothes.
“Deal.”
Before I could get to my feet Mud leaned across the mattress and threw her arms around me. “Thank you,” she said, hugging me tight.
I patted her shoulders uncertainly. There was no blazing insight to her emotional state when we touched. But I was no longer accustomed to spontaneous displays of church-style affection, so I was still uncomfortable. “For what?” I asked.
“Thank you for not getting killed today. For not getting punished by Larry. For lettin’ me live here. For letting me have a room all tomyself.Mine.Myspace. Not shared with three or five true sibs and half sibs and—” She stopped. “And for making sure I get to learn. Get to go to school. Get to choose for myself who I’m gonna be. Get to not be burned at the stake if I grow leaves. For keeping mesafe,” she finished.
Tears prickled under my lids and I hugged her tightly back. Voice thick, I managed, “Sister mine, it is totally, completely, full-to-the-top, my pleasure.” Gently I eased back so we could see each other, both of us teary eyed. “And you need a shower too. And use some of that deodorant I made us. As a woman grown, your body’s starting to change and you need to change hygiene habits.”
Mud’s nose wrinkled up. “You’rn one to talk. Take a whiff of yourself.”
In my best PsyLED accent, I said, “Duly noted.”
•••
I was dressed and we were ready to head to Walmart and Kohl’s when I felt a vehicle turn onto my road and begin the climb up the mountain. At the same time, my phone dinged with a text from Margot Racer, special agent with the FBI. Mud read it aloud to me as she passed me the cell. “‘You home? Am in the neighborhood. On my way up your little mountain.’” Mud looked skeptical. “Is that a lie? About being in the neighborhood?”
“Most likely.” I took the cell and texted back.Come on up.
“Is this about the cops and the dustup at the church this morning and you getting hurt?”
“Dustup. Yeah. And probably. The kidnapping of a federal law enforcement officer and raid on the church compound probably hit the news. And maybe she’s heard about the witch circles and did some digging. Maybe she’s responding to the report that KPD and the sheriff’s department didn’t share info with us about paranormal reports. Either way, this is official business, not tea and cookies.”
Mud crossed her arms over her chest and her face took on a mulish expression, mouth firm, eyes narrowed. “I ain’t going upstairs and twiddle my thumbs.”
“Is this one of those lifestyle things we’re working through?” I asked. “Like, how our living arrangements will work when I go into the field? Because if you think a social services worker will be okay with you being present during discussions about official police business, then let me tell you, you’re wrong.”
“I’m staying some nights at PsyLED HQ. That’s full of police business.”
