"After all our pains we were near losing him, Sir Rowland. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. She cursed Satan and screamed at the heavens, praying to Mary frantically. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance.
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