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"I don't know, Jefferson. Maybe she woke up and took a look at herself," I said. Gavin laughed.
I slipped into my dress quickly and Gavin and 1, with Jefferson lagging behind, hurried down the corridor. The doors of the master suite had been thrown open. We approached slowly and gazed within.
Morton was apparently still asleep, still in a drunken stupor, but Aunt Fern was sitting up in the bed, the blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were blazing with excitement. Had she seen a spirit after all? I wondered. She lifted her arm and pointed her shaky finger at the doorway.
"Who was that . . . that . . . creature who was standing there gaping in at us for God knows how long?" she demanded. "I opened my eyes and there he was just a little while ago, spying on us."
"Oh, that was probably Homer," I said. "He's a friend of Aunt Charlotte's and Luther's. He lives nearby."
"Well, how dare he come snooping around here? How dare he! What is he, some kind of pervert?" she demanded.
"Oh no, Aunt Fern. Homer's harmless. He's . . ."
"Don't tell me what he is. I know who's harmless and who isn't," she said icily. "I don't want to set eyes on him again, do you hear me? You march right downstairs and tell that creep to get out of here pronto and not come back until I leave, understand?"
"But Homer won't . . ."
"Don't contradict every thing I say," she moaned. "My head is splitting." She pressed her palms against her temples, dropping her blanket and forgetting she was naked. Gavin was shocked and stepped back.
"Aunt Fern . . . you're still not dressed," I pointed out.
"What? Oh, who cares. Morton, damn it. How can you sleep with all this going on? Morton?" She shook her boyfriend, who then groaned but didn't turn over. Then she fell back against her pillow.
"Get me coffee . . . strong coffee. After I wake up, I want you to draw a warm bath for me. Do you have any bath oils here?"
"No, Aunt Fern. Hardly."
"Well, get the coffee . . . quickly," she ordered. "And get that creature out of the house." She closed her eyes and moaned again.
"How did Aunt Fern get here?" Jefferson whispered.
"She came on Emily's broom," Gavin quipped. "What?"
"She just drove here last night, Jefferson. Go back and get washed and dressed. Go on." "What's wrong with her?"
"She drank too much old whiskey," I said. Gavin and I smiled at each other.
"Come on, buddy," Gavin said, putting his arm around Jefferson's shoulders. "I'll help you get organized."
"I'd better see to their coffee," I said and hurried downstairs. Luther was already outside, working. Charlotte was in the kitchen with Homer sitting at the table, looking terrified.
"She scared him near to death," Charlotte complained.
"Because he frightened her, Aunt Charlotte. She's furious about him looking in on her," I explained.
"He didn't mean no harm. He never heard nobody in that room before and had to see," Aunt Charlotte said. I smiled at the motherly way in which she came to his defense.
"I know, but until they leave, Homer should stay away from them. You understand, Homer? That woman upstairs is not very nice. Every time she sees you, she's just going to scream and scream."
Homer nodded.
"I don't want to see her," h
e said.
"I don't blame you." I poured two cups of coffee, found a tray, and carried them up to Aunt Fern and Morton. Morton was awake and sitting up in bed, rubbing his face and blinking at the sunlight coming through the window. Aunt Fern was still prone, her eyes closed.
"Here's your coffee," I said. Her eyes snapped open.
