"Well, I got a pile of trash and a fed little boy who tell me a different tale."
"Fine." He kept scowling. "Stay. But stay out of my way. I do things my own way and I don't want to be meddled with."
Helen nodded. "As you wish."
He walked over and sat down at the piano, putting the baby into a bassinet near the stool. First caressing the keys like most men caress a woman, he put his fingers onto them and started playing lightly. Helen felt the hair on her neck stand on end. It had a wrongness.
After about ten minutes, McCoy turned around. "I think you're going to have to leave for tonight, Ms. Highwater. Thank you."
He turned back to the keyboard and ignored her. Frowning, she did as he asked and left, even though she could see the darkness taking over the house. She would be back tomorrow.
"He ought not to be doing that."
Helen stood in the doorway of the general store, sipping a Coke. Piano music issued from the McCoy house. Mark had been playing for a week, and it was getting better.
"It ain't so bad now, Helen."
"It disturbs the way things ought to be."
"Why, Helen." Bill Chilton stood up, folding his cards. "That ain't like you. You always used to like music."
"What have you been eating then?"
In answer, Robby pulled out a bag of jelly beans and held them up. "I like the green ones."
"But I bet you a ham sandwich would taste a lot better right now."
Slowly, Robby nodded.
"Then what I'm going to do is walk back into town and get some ham and bread and maybe a Coke for you."
"Okay." Robby smiled.
When she returned, the boy didn't hesitate before letting her inside. He hadn't lied to her; the refrigerator was entirely bare, and there was no bread on the counters. "Do you want me to grill you a ham and cheese, or would you just want a sandwich?"
Robby looked at her wistfully. "Can I have both?"
"Sure." The child wolfed his food down; Helen shook her head and started cleaning. By the time Mark made an appearance at dusk, the house was spotless.
He scowled at her, as she looked him up and down. He was wearing a draggled white robe that had not been washed in weeks, by its looks, and holding a baby whose breathing was shallow and a little harsh.
"Hello, Dr. McCoy. I'm Helen Highwater. My father sent me up here to do for you while y'all get situated with the baby and everything."
"I don't need any help."
Stilling the Dead
A Helen Highwater Story
