Free Touched by Carolyn Haines Page A

did.
    “Why are we going to this baptism, then? It’s the Jexville Baptist Church.”
    “I know.” Her blue eyes were shot with light and gave back to me the vista of the pine forest and the blue sky. “Since you’ve been spreading the word that Duncan has been sent back from the dead to complete a mission for God, I thought we’d show up and just watch.”
    “JoHanna!”
    “No harm in watching.” She still held the wagon handle behind her back, and she turned to face the road once again. She started walking, knowing I’d fall back into step with her.
    It was my first indication that she actively sought to start talk about herself. She stirred the fires of speculation with deliberate actions. “And Duncan?” I looked over my shoulder at her and met her dark gaze. It was impossible to read the expression on her face, but I thought for a moment that a shadow of sorrow touched her eyes and drew her dark eyebrows together. Then it was gone, and she looked at her mother’s back. It was as if she touched JoHanna, who turned back to look at her. That silent communication passed between them.
    “It’s okay, Duncan,” she said. “You’ll be dancing on their graves in a matter of no time.”
    “JoHanna!”
    She laughed, and if I had closed my eyes, I would have seen her as a girl. She was such a contradiction.
    “Tell me about growing up,” she said. “What’s your best memory?”
    My new shoes were still stiff, but they were getting a good breaking in as we moved along the road. There was no traffic, and I hadn’t felt so safe and content in weeks. The memory she requested wasn’t hard to grab hold of. In her company, I felt bold enough to tell it.
    “My sister Callie and I snuck into the Meridian Opera House one afternoon.”
    “Ah, the spice of trespassing.” She nodded. “And an opera house, the perfect place for adventure. Do you like opera?”
    I looked down the road. The trees were tall and thick in this area, shading the road. There had been talk of the state sending in heavy equipment to improve the highway to Pascagoula. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I never got to hear one. The place was empty. It was afternoon, and Callie and I wanted to look at the costumes.” Even from such a distance, the memory made me smile. “The dresses were beautiful. They were slick and had those glittery things sewn into them, like fairy brides.”
    JoHanna smiled. “Fairy brides, no less. And were you afraid?”
    “Yes. Callie and I were terrified we would be found out. We had no business there. Mama didn’t have money for us to attend a real performance. We only wanted to see what it was like in that building where the people came out late at night all dressed up and laughing.”
    “I have some records of operas. Will buys them for me when he goes to some of the bigger cities. He says it sounds like cats in a fight, but I like some of them.”
    “Records?” I couldn’t hide my amazement. “Of operas?”
    “It isn’t the same as a show, but you could at least learn the music if you wanted. Maybe Will and I would act them out for you.”
    I laughed at the idea. Would they really do such a thing? “Okay.”
    “When he gets home,” she promised. “Maybe by then Duncan will be well enough to play a part. We’ll do costumes and the whole thing.”
    I looked back at Duncan. Pecos had moved up to ride on the arm of her rocker. He heard something in the distance, and he swiveled his head all the way around without turning his body. It made me real nervous.
    “Here’s the turn.” JoHanna pulled the wagon down a steep drop that ended in a six-inch bed of sand. It took both of us to heave the wagon through.
    From the woods the sound of singing came like sunshine through thick leaves, just a phrase here and there. It was an old hymn, one Mama used to sing at the kitchen sink when she cut up the turnip roots that were the staple of our fall diet. She said the song gave her comfort, but it only made me