Page 105 of The Premonition at Withers Farm
Perliett stood horrified in the doorway. The room was swathed in a dusky midafternoon pall. Mrs. Withers ran her hands in small circles on the black lace tablecloth.
“Come to me!” Mrs. Withers petitioned the spirits in a way that was very different from Maribeth. “Come!”
Footsteps behind Perliett startled her. She spun to see Maribeth’s stunned demeanor as she beheld the crazed womanat her table. Mr. Bridgers stood behind her, and his gaze collided with Perliett’s.
“What is going on?” he demanded, his voice low and urgent.
Perliett bit her lip. “She shoved her way in here. She’s trying to make contact with her daughters.”
“She needs to stop!” Maribeth tried to squeeze her way past Perliett. “I have guests coming tonight. She cannot be here. She cannot tamper with my sitting area.”
Perliett held her arm out to stop her mother. “Wait. She isn’t stable of mind. Upsetting her more could be catastrophic.”
“But my table—” Maribeth broke off as Perliett leveled a stern glare at her mother.
“Your table will survive. What is there to tamper with but the candles?”
Maribeth blanched.
Perliett ignored the niggling questions that arose at the look on her mother’s face. Questions that made her wonder again why Maribeth always avoided summoning PaPa and yet would so passionately invest herself in the grief of others.
“Let me through. I will see to the woman,” Mr. Bridgers stated.
“Stop. Both of you.” Perliett turned so that her back was to Mrs. Withers and she could pause the intensity of their advances.
“But I can help her.” Maribeth pushed Perliett aside. “If she wishes to connect with her daughters...”
“You!” Mrs. Withers stood abruptly, the candles on the table wobbling, one of them falling over. She leveled a glare at Maribeth, holding up a shaking index finger in accusation. “You said you could contact Eunice. You told my husband she would be there—”
“Mrs. Withers.” Maribeth held up her hands, speaking in a soothing voice. “We did contact Eunice. Your husbandand daughter and son-in-law were here to see it—as was Mr. Bridgers.”
As was I, Perliett thought sardonically, not appreciating that her mother was inching toward the hysterical woman and ignoring Perliett’s warning. Mrs. Withers was not in a proper frame of mind. Grief had spiraled her into nonsensical displays of panic.
“What did she say?” Mrs. Withers’s expression shifted from one of accusation to one of plea. “Did she tell you? Did she tell you it all?”
“What all?” Mr. Bridgers stepped beside Perliett. His hand brushed hers, and Perliett surprised herself by jerking hers away. He shot her a questioning look. “All will be well,” he said under his breath.
Yes. All would be well. When the Cornfield Ripper was stopped. When the leering child from the cornfield was identified. When Mrs. Withers regained her right frame of mind. When Perliett herself could feel safe again!
“The robin falls,” Mrs. Withers whimpered. “She falls. Eunice will tell you.” Her eyes widened with earnestness as she met Maribeth in the middle of the floor. Maribeth reached out to take Mrs. Withers’s hands. To calm her. To reassure her. Instead, Mrs. Withers swept her hand through the air, and it slapped against Maribeth’s face with a crack.
Maribeth cried out, covering her face with her hands and bending over to shield herself. Mr. Bridgers launched into the study, intent on whisking Maribeth away from the violence at the hands of Mrs. Withers.
The woman sobbed. A maniacal, laughing sob. “Oh, Eunice. My Millie. We have betrayed your trust.” She lifted her face to the ceiling, yelling as if her daughters’ spirits lurked in the corners, hovering, waiting to hear their mother speak. “She would be better off ifshewere the one who were dead! Buried in a grave that cannot be found. Forever!” Mrs.Withers collapsed to her knees, and Mr. Bridgers hauled a weeping Maribeth away from the woman.
Perliett took a few hurried steps toward Mrs. Withers, freezing in place as the woman wailed.
“I have borne a monster, and even the afterlife cannot hold her still.”
Mr. Bridgers came up beside Perliett, his baritone voice resonating in her ear, his breath warm against her cheek. She flushed, stepping away. What had sent trickles of pleasure through her last week now made her wary. The trauma of her attack had stolen any thin remnant of romantic interest she had in her.
“I am going for Mr. Withers. He must come and fetch his wife. She is beyond reconciling with reason.”
“I agree.” And she did, only she wasn’t sure that Mr. Withers would be any help considering he apparently couldn’t keep his own wife at home as it was.
Mr. Bridgers sniffed, even as Maribeth sidled past him, casting Perliett an anxious look as her cheek blazed red from Mrs. Withers’s slap. Jasper clicked his tongue in derision at the situation. “This is unfortunate. The woman has lost her mind. It would be good to appeal to the county court and have her committed.”
“Committed?” Perliett whirled on him.
