Flight of the Stone Angel by Carol O'Connell

feel that need to be swept up in strong arms. Malcolm invited you to the show tomorrow night, didn’t he?”
    “The memorial service? Yes.” Why did he feel as though he had just confessed to a lovers’ tryst?
    “When you see Malcolm on that stage, he’ll be larger than you remembered. He’ll swoop down on you with his eyes, and he’ll carry you away with promises of heaven on earth.”
    And this Malcolm had already done. The kingdom of heaven is all around them and men do not see it.
    “And you’ll believe in him because you want to, you need to.” Augusta opened the door between the staircases and paused with her hand on the knob. “Malcolm will show you a vision of paradise so real you can go live in it for a while. You’ll be spellbound – and grateful.”
    She stared at him now, as though she had intuited his conversation of the morning. She was shaking her head, disapproving of whatever knowledge she had gained from his telltale face. She went into the house and down the hall to the kitchen. He followed close behind her, just as the horse had done.
    Walking to the stove, her back was turned on him when she spoke again. “Then he’ll ask you for something – probably a small thing compared to his own gift of the moon and the stars. And you’ll be glad to give it to him…. this small thing.” She lit the flame under the burner. “That’s how it begins. Maybe you don’t get between the sheets with the man, but it’s a consummation. When you yield to him that first time? – it is a surrender.”
    She was facing him now, gesturing with slow swirls of a wooden spoon. “In a sense, you’re on your back, eyes all full of love and trust. He can do whatever he likes with you – and you will want him to. So, Charles, don’t go falling in love with that man.”
    Though he had just been rather imaginatively raped, Charles was nodding. The spell she spoke of was within his experience. He could have used the old woman’s frightening counsel when he was falling in love with Mallory. Too late now.
    He sat down at the table and watched Augusta’s back as she stirred the contents of the pot. Though he had missed his lunch, he was nearly immune to the aromas of chicken, vegetables and spice scents he couldn’t name. Hunger had been displaced by high anxiety.
    On the bright side, he was perfectly safe from the likes of Malcolm. That most excellent thief, Mallory, had already taken everything of value – his pride, his self-respect. He had traveled more than a thousand miles for a rude brush-off. How pathetic was that?
    Malcolm was right. If he wanted Mallory, he must not pursue her anymore. He would not try to see her again. She always found him so predictable, she would not know what to make of that. It would definitely disconcert her. Well, good. If it gave her a few bad moments, she well deserved it.
    Thank you, Malcolm.
    Two fragrant bowls of thick gumbo and rice were set on the table. He looked up and met Augusta’s eyes. She stared at him with such intensity, he wondered if she was tracking his thoughts. Had he simply become conditioned to this paranoia? Or was she even more skilled than Malcolm Laurie?
    Ah, but it was all in his face, wasn’t it? – the anger, the petulance, the plotting. Augusta, a master of human nature, was watching his slow fall into the dangerous pit she had just mapped out for him. She had drawn a huge sign and set flares by the side of the road, hadn’t she? But he had gone off the edge, stone blind and foolish.
    “I do understand,” he said, and this was finally true. He would not be seduced by the evangelist. Mallory was his friend. Whatever she needed from him, it was hers, whether she wanted his help or not. If he had been in trouble, Mallory would have done the same for him. How could he have forgotten that?
    Having restored his priorities and prevented his fall from grace, Augusta sat down at the table with him and bent over her bowl. Though they ate in silence,