Betha sat in the living room, miserably hunched over with a wet handkerchief clutched in her hand. Iyala sat beside her, arm around her and whispering hardly heard reassurances. The Widow Blackwell sat in a chair nearby. Mia was in her lap, shivering and silent for once. Nali sat on the floor by her feet while Ralad was close to Betha. Both girls were pale-faced and weepy, staring up at their grief-stricken mother as if begging her to make it all better.Twelve-year-old Cara peered in from the doorway, biting her lip. Her mother was crying again, the two other adults doing their best to soothe her. The younger girls started to sob as well. Cara felt like crying, too, but she wiped her face furiously and instead crept down the hall to the stairs.The doctor had been and gone and they’d all been told to stay away. She had to do this, though. She hadn’t seen her father at all when they brought him in, had been banished to the kitchen with the other children, where the Widow kept them in their seats.
