Free Heaven Sent Rain by Lauraine Snelling

coals.”
    “No, he didn’t. Like always, he…”
    The discussion continued in bits and pieces as the Bunch went through the buffet line, regathered, talked, and, finally, left.
    Garret forced himself to make all the appropriate noises, his mind in turmoil. He dropped Miss Grayson off at her auntie’s, then locked himself into auto mode. He was almost home when he pulled over to the side of the street because he was shaking too much to drive.
    Was this the fight-or-flight Pastor Hagen had talked about, or was something else happening that he had no control over? Was it the Taylor woman, or someone else in the depths of his memories?
    He was supposed to be a rational adult. Why was he so screwed up? Or did he know the answer and was just too stubborn to face it?

Chapter Eight
    T he stains would not come off the sofa. At all.
    Dinah had tried every product in the house, gone out for more, and still only managed to turn the mud and blood into a series of large blotches that glared at her from the pristine white. Give it a rest. It is only a stain, after all. It will come out with something. The mud prints from the carpet had faded; surely when dry they would be gone completely or easily brushed away.
    Even while giving herself good advice, she scrubbed on. She had promised to pick Jonah up at five to go help Mutt eat. Talk about a stubborn dog. At least they could bring her home tomorrow. But could Corinne take care of the dog while Jonah went to school? How did they usually manage? Of course all depended on what kind of care Mutt needed.
    Stepping back, Dinah studied the stains. Any better, or was she only making things worse? Maybe the answer was to hire a professional cleaner.
    Her intercom bleeped and she answered. Horace, the condo manager. “Miz Dinah, you better not be leaving. There’s one of those news vans out on the curb and some blonde lady with a microphone. The hyenas are gathering for the kill.”
    “She’s no lady. I have to take Jonah to the vet soon.”
    “Mr. Hal, he said stay put.”
    “But!” Rage reddened her vision. A prisoner in her own home? “Thank you.”
    “Anything I can do to help?”
    “No, not that I know of, other than sic those people on someone else.”
    “I wish. They’re trampling all over the plants, and people who live here get a mic shoved in their face. Not good.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Not your fault.”
    And she got an idea. “Streets and sidewalks are public, but your flowers sure aren’t. How about calling the police and accusing the whole lot of trespassing? You even have proof.”
    The manager cackled. “I’ll do that.” He hung up.
    Hitting speed dial, she bypassed polite greetings and burst out, “I’ve got to pick up Jonah to go see Mutt.”
    Hal’s patient voice: “Dinah…”
    “She won’t eat if he’s not there and that will make him frantic and that will make his mother frantic and—”
    “Dinah! Enough!” Hal never raised his voice.
    “Sorry.” She swallowed hard. “Hal, I’m frustrated. The vultures are out there interviewing people who know nothing whatever, they’re so desperate. If it’s big news, why didn’t they come to the launch?”
    Hal snorted. “That’s right; I told you not to watch television. Maybe you should have. The press has distorted the picture dangerously. You and all your promotions and ads say it’s a dietary supplement that can help people feel better. They’re claiming you said it can cure diabetes. They don’t even specify type. They’re making, or manipulating, their news, Dinah. Sensationalism.”
    “What happens if the FDA thinks I said that?”
    “Right.” Hal paused. “Shame I have never met Jonah, or I could pick him up.”
    She sighed. True. “I’d call, but I don’t have his phone number.”
    “Look on your phone.”
    “It’s blocked.”
    “Oh. Tell you what. I’ll go meet him and tell him who I am, and if he—”
    “His dog’s real name is Downmutt. Tell him that you are taking