His chase down the heated and chilled corridors had ended with what felt like a tumble into a light so brilliant he could neither see his way nor find his wits. So he closed his eyes and listened to the voices: his mother’s, Fletcher’s, and others he did not recognize. On occasion, another voice quite unlike the others spoke. The words were gentle, soft, familiar: “I will deliver you for I delight in you.” Even when the others failed to be heard, this one never left. * * * June 18 Fairweather Key Hunger sent Emilie out to Ivan’s Mercantile when exhaustion preferred to keep her home. After paying for her items and dodging the attention of other customers, she covered the basket and began the stroll home. As she passed the doctor’s office, she heard someone call her name and turned to see her old friend Viola Dumont. “I’ve been hoping to see you,” Vi said. “Isabelle told me you’d returned from New Orleans.” Her expression seemed calm; her eyes, however, held a worried look.
