Bone Appétit (37 page)

For some reason, Jitty’s haranguing made me sadder. I put my hands over my ears. “Stop, just stop,” I whispered. “I can’t do this. I don’t know what to do, but you have to stop pushing me.”

To my surprise, when I looked around, Jitty was gone.

The curtains ruffled in a breeze. The kitchen was empty. I went to the window and gazed out upon the Delaney family plot. Jitty, no longer a chef, stood in the cemetery near the life-size headstone of an angel that marked her grave. The full skirts of her tightly bodiced gingham dress blew in the breeze. She was too far away for me to hear her, but I knew what she said.

“Dahlia House is where I heal.” I repeated it softly to myself. I didn’t have to speak it loud to hear the truth of it.