“Now, none of that self-pity, girl.” Jess had the look of a spinster librarian: dry and efficient, with steel-gray hair pinned in a bun. All she needed was a pencil behind one ear and cat’s-eye glasses on a keep chain. “Corinthians says, God is faithful, and with the temptation He will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It means stop feeling sorry for yourself. God is testing you.”
“How do you figure that?” Alex said, feeling very sorry for herself.
“How do you think?” Jess counted off on her fingers. “Let me see. You survive the attack. You don’t change. You rescue a child. You nearly get eaten by wild dogs. You nearly get eaten by the Changed. And you’re almost lynched. Oh, and the dogs like you. Did I miss something?”
Yeah, I failed the one person who would’ve died rather than hurt me.
“I don’t see how those are tests. They just happened.”
“Then you are very blind, and it’s high time you woke up. You’re not the only one with problems. Every single person here in Rule has lost someone they cared about, and some of us more than one. I watched my girls drop dead in front of my eyes, but I thank God my grandson was spared. Our lives are a ruin, but you don’t see us all dragging around with long faces, feeling sorry for ourselves. Everyone works, and that includes you, young lady. Now get your little butt out of bed before I drag it out.”
“You’re not my mother,” Alex said, and then thought, Oh boy, did that sound like Ellie or what?
“And thank our Lord for that,” Jess retorted. “I am not a bully, Alex, but neither you nor I, nor anyone else here, has time for a pity party. There’s a puppy downstairs going crazy because he wants to see you and there is work to be done.”
“I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Under my roof, you do.” When Alex didn’t reply, Jess lowered herself to the bed with a sigh. “Look. I don’t enjoy this. I’d much rather we just get along.”
Alex thought that was probably true, but Jess was hard to read. As straightforward as she appeared to be, her scent was … well, what Alex imagined white smelled like. Not mist; nothing shadowy like Chris. Jess’s scent was a blank. “You can start by leaving me alone,” Alex said.
“I can’t do that. I know this sounds trite, but if Tom meant this much to you, then he wouldn’t want to see you like this. He sounds like he was a very fine, very brave young man, and he saw something in you worth saving—not once but several times over. You can try telling yourself that it was a reflex, that he would’ve done it for anyone, that he didn’t have a choice, but remember one thing: in the end, dear, he chose you over his friend. He chose you.” Jess brushed a hank of hair from Alex’s forehead. “Scripture says, By faith he still speaks, even though he is dead.”
“What does that mean?” she asked miserably.
“It means you must honor Tom’s sacrifice. You must honor him. He would want you to live.”
“Living feels like a punishment.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Everyone I care about is gone.”
“As long as you’re alive, there is hope,” Jess said. “Hope is saying that I will live one more day, and that is a blessing, too.”
“Where’s that from?”
“The Book of Jess,” she said. “Now get up. Don’t make Tom’s suffering all for nothing.”
In the kitchen, Jess was puttering over a skillet as Alex’s house-mates—a plump, cheery sixteen-year-old named Tori, and Lena, an arrogant-looking brunette Alex’s age—washed and dried. A much older man, weather-beaten and craggy as a cowboy, slouched at a white, farm-style kitchen table. Chewing, he looked up from a mug of coffee and half-eaten muffin, then swallowed and said, “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you, Doc,” Alex said. Kincaid had told her the very first day that it was either Matt or Doc, and Alex just couldn’t wrap her head around being on a first-name basis with a guy pushing seventy-five. After her icy room, the kitchen—warmed by an old-fashioned cast-iron stove and filled with the intoxicating aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples—was a relief. Alex’s mouth watered, and her stomach growled.
The kitchen’s side door opened, and Ghost crowded in. Spying Alex, the puppy let out a happy yawp, scampered over, and, in general, made a fuss. Grinning, Alex bent to give the squirming puppy a tummy rub. “How you doing, big boy?”
“More like fat boy,” said a third girl, who’d come in with the dog. Sarah was tiny, with very dark eyes and bones as delicate as a porcelain doll. Dragging off a rose-pink knit cap, she shook out a tumble of blonde ringlets. “He practically rolls down the steps.”
Lena said to Alex, “Yeah, now that you’re done sulking, you can go out in the cold for a change.”
“I don’t mind walking him.” Kneeling, Sarah scratched Ghost’s stomach, then giggled as the puppy dissolved into helpless squiggles. Her face turned wistful. “My brother had a dog—this really cute little cocker spaniel—only he got hit by a car.”
“Well, since there are no cars, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Lena said.
“I’d love your help, Sarah,” Alex said, ignoring Lena’s eye-roll.
“Alex, I made up a plate for you.” Tori turned from the sink, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her cheeks were dotted with color and her hair had frizzed from the steam. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll—”
“You know, she’s not a cripple.” Lena dropped a dried plate onto a stack with a clatter. “Stop being such a suck-up.”
Alex pushed to her feet. “It’s okay, Tori. I can get it.”
Tori’s eyebrows crinkled and her mouth formed a tiny, hurt O. “I’m not sucking up,” she said to Lena.
Lena snorted. “Yeah, right. Just because Chris keeps hanging around doesn’t mean that Peter—”
“Lena,” Jess warned.
“What? I’m just saying. I don’t get why you’re all treating her like she’s any different from us.”
“Well,” Sarah began timidly, “I did hear that the dogs—”
“The dogs, the dogs, the dogs.” Lena did another wildly exaggerated eye-roll. “They don’t know everything. What if the animals change? Has anyone thought about that? It’s not like the animals didn’t go apeshit that first day.”