Hobbs rose and grabbed his coat, pulling it over his arms. “Okey-dokey. I’ll do some more poking around online before I go to bed, but if you’re okay with it, I’ll be back tomorrow to help out.”
My heart clenched in my chest. “That would be really nice. I’ll make sure we have plenty of biscuits and gravy ready in your honor.”
He grinned, his expression surprised. “You know how to make biscuits and gravy?”
I didn’t, but I bet Atti did, and what good was magic if you couldn’t use it to make someone else happy? At least, that was how I planned to sell it to Atti.
“Don’t you worry your little cowboy head about what I know,” I said in a really bad Southern accent. “Just be back here for breakfast around nine or so.”
Making his way around the table, he grabbed my fingers and gave them a squeeze. “See you then, Hal. G’night.”
He whistled to Stephen King, who’d been lying by the fireplace in the dining room, and the next thing I heard was the jingle of the door as it closed. Then, for the moment, I was alone.
Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
“Headache, Poppet?” Atti asked, his deep voice resonating in my ear as he flew to my shoulder, his soft wings brushing against my forehead.
“Tension headache, I guess. Tension and worry about Uncle Monty and Uncle Darling. How are you?”
He brushed his wing along my cheek, his deep voice full of concern when he said, “Worried about you.”
Tears stung my eyes again and my throat grew tight. “Don’t worry, Atti. I’m going to find who did this to Uncle Monty and Gable Norton, and when I do…”
“Come, Poppet. I’ve turned down your bed and made a fire. Let’s get your thermals on and tuck you in. The Sandman is calling your name. Tomorrow will bring with it new perspective.”
I rose and followed Atti down the hall to my bedroom, feeling helpless and scared while, strangely, Phil loomed at my heels.
Now more than ever, I wished my mother Keeva was here to help me soothe Uncle Darling. What if Uncle Monty’s memory loss wasn’t only because of the anesthesia? What if he didn’t remember the one person who loved him more than almost anything else?
If that was the case, my mother would know what to do. She’d know what to say.
Stripping off my clothes, I put on the thermal pajamas Atti had so kindly laid out at the end of my bed and climbed under the thick comforter. The fire roared in all its purple and orange glory, the Christmas lights on the mantel twinkled, and outside, the ocean crashed against the rocks.
Phil hopped up on the bed and brushed against me, rubbing his oddly shaped head on my cheek. Yes, the Phil who can barely contain his disdain for me was making actual physical contact.
I sniffled and reached for him, wrapping my arms around his neck—and he did what Phil does, he squirmed out of my reach and stared at me as though I’d offended him with my needy desperation and my grabby hands.
“Too much, buddy?” I whispered, my throat tight.
He glared, his glassy green eyes sending one of his angry messages.
I smiled at him despite the ache in my heart. “That’s what I thought.”
But as I snuggled under the covers and Atti took his place beside me on his pillow, Phil did something very uncharacteristic. He snuggled up in the crook of my knees.
Maybe things weren’t as helpless as they felt, after all.
Chapter 8
Do They Know it’s Christmas?
Written by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, 1984
I was feeling a little under the weather with a stuffy nose as I watched Hobbs push the last of his breakfast into his mouth before wiping it with a napkin.
“I gotta give it to you, Hal. For a Yankee, those were some dang good biscuits and sausage gravy. Real close to my mama’s.”
I blushed as I pushed mine around my plate. I couldn’t take credit for making the meal. Atti’s magic could.
We all sat around the dining room table in the cold morning light. The sun was out, glinting on the ocean outside the windows, but that wouldn’t last for long if we listened to the forecaster from the morning news.
Snow was in the forecast for tonight, when Hobbs and I had a date for the Christmas tree lighting in the square. But this morning, we were going to find Landry Tithers, and early this afternoon, after getting an email from him in response to Hobbs, we were going to meet with Westcott Morgan.
“I’m glad you liked it. Uncle Darling?” I looked across the table at him, his eyes red and weary even after eight solid hours of sleep. “Won’t you try and eat something for me? Please? I know your appetite is suffering, but you need your strength for today. Uncle Monty’s awake, and that’s amazing news.”
I almost burst into more tears when I got the text from Belinda just as she was preparing to leave her night shift. Uncle Monty was awake again, and she said Dr. Jordon told her Darling could visit when visiting hours began at ten.
“I know you’ll probably think this is crazy, Lamb, considering the size of the caboose on my choo-choo train, but I’m not a stress eater. No disrespect to your homage to the delicious cowboy and the great state of Texas. I’m just not very hungry,” he said, his raspy voice low on energy.
Maybe my sleeping spell wasn’t as great as I’d thought.
Hobbs’s face turned bright red. “None taken, Uncle Darling. Can I get you more coffee?”
Uncle Darling smiled at him faintly, and ever so coquettishly. “The only thing you can get me is another one of you.”
I giggled because I was exhausted and glad to see a glimmer of the man I knew. “You are incorrigible,” I chastised.
“I,” he said with a saucy wiggle of his eyebrows, “am truthful. Better nab this one pronto before some other cowgirl comes along and lassos him right out from under your pert little nose!”
Now my face was the one turning red. “You hush and go get Monty’s things together. I’m sure he’d love his toothbrush at this point.”
Instantly, his shoulders sagged under his freshly pressed button-down shirt. “But will he remember what a toothbrush is? That’s the million-dollar question.”
Hobbs wrapped his arm around Uncle Darling’s shoulders and gave him a pat on his arm. “If not, we’ll remind him, because my mama always said good oral hygiene is important.”
Uncle Darling reached up and pinched his cheek before brushing his knuckles over it. “You’re not just pretty to look at, are you, sweet boy?” He pressed a kiss to Hobbs’s fingers and was off to gather Uncle Monty’s things to take to the hospital as I collected the plates from the table.
I was busy going through the events of last night when I remembered I had a loose end—that ambulance chaser, Abraham Weller, whose card was still in my jacket pocket.
“Just a head’s up. A guy by the name of Abraham Weller tried a bid at ambulance chasing with me last night at the hospital, about Uncle Monty. Be on the lookout for shady lawyers in tweed jackets. I don’t want anyone scaring Monty any more than he already is.”
He pointed to his eyes. “I’ll keep ’em wide open. Anything from the missing girls’ parents?”