tea. Now she remembered that as well – Iola all but pouring two cups of it down
her throat.
Olivia turned her head to look at Iola again, just as the older woman lowered
her Bible. Their eyes met and Olivia shuddered. There it was – that flat stare, like a bird. Or a snake. Eyes like dull stones.
“Good. You’re awake,” Iola said. She rose, closed the Bible, and placed it on
the seat of the chair. Then she removed her round spectacles and neatly folded them next to the book. “Slept longer than I expected,” she said and came to stand
at Olivia’s side.
Olivia stared up at her. What had this maniac put in her tea? “Iola,” she said,
trying to remain calm, to keep hysteria from her voice. “What happened? Why
am I tied up like this?”
Filmore stepped into the doorway and stood there chewing the tip of his long beard. Olivia tried to sit up, but could lift her head only a few inches.
“Shh … be still, dear.” Iola put a motherly hand on Olivia’s arm. “You won’t
mind so much, once it’s past helping.” A second chair stood near the bed and Iola pulled it close. She sat down and began stroking Olivia’s forehead. “Best to
get it over with quick as possible.”
“What are you talking about?” Olivia’s voice grew shrill with panic. “You let
me go right now.”
“Shush.” Iola patted her shoulder. Then she turned to her husband and issued
a sharp command. “You get on with it.”
Filmore hung his head and retreated a step. “Iola…” He gave his wife a
pleading look.
“We’ve had enough words. You know your duty. The Lord’s ways are
mysterious, but the signs he’s given us are clear enough.” Then she spoke more
softly and gave him an encouraging nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her ready.” She
rose from the chair.
“What is the matter with you? Untie me!” Olivia shouted. “Have you gone
crazy?”
Iola ignored her. Olivia turned her face toward the roof and let out a long, piercing scream.
Shaking her head as if Olivia had disappointed her, Iola sighed. Then she put
one hand on Olivia’s shoulder, raised the other high, and brought it down in a resounding slap across the face. The blow reverberated along Olivia’s body and
she thought she might pass out. When Olivia opened her mouth to scream again,
Iola’s hand rose threateningly.
“You know there ain’t no one going to hear you. All your hollering’s gonna
do is make this a whole lot harder on all of us than it needs to be.” Iola fished a
rolled-up sock out of her pocket and held it up. “If you can’t keep yourself still,
this will. You want me to shove it down your throat, you keep carrying on.”
Olivia shut her eyes and sensed Iola moving toward the foot of the bed.
“Untie her right ankle,” Iola ordered Filmore. Then she spoke to Olivia. “And don’t you get any smart ideas about kicking anyone, Little Missy, or I’ll see that
you’re good and sorry.”
Iola gripped Olivia’s thigh with both hands while her husband untied the rope.
“Keep good hold of her ankle. You,” she said to Olivia, “you bend your knee.
