The house was like a dark, cozy den. Seated at a huge wooden table in the center of Mavis's kitchen, Virginia studied its surface, as Mavis focused on making tea. Someone had carved letters into the wood, and she traced them idly with her fingers, keeping her head down in order to discourage the Pastor from engaging her in conversation. All too soon, Mavis joined them laden with cups, saucers, cream, sugar, and a pot of aromatic tea. She also placed a heaping plate of cookies on the table.

"Try one, there Ginger Rounds, an old family recipe."

"You'll love them, there even better than my grandmother used to make," the pastor advised, placing three upon his plate.

"No thank-you," muttered Virginia.

Mavis and the pastor exchanged glances. Her eyes assured him silently that she would not be deterred. His eyes mirrored his resignation. Pouring Virginia, the pastor and then herself a cup of tea, Mavis proceeded to question Virginia.

"So, where you from?"

"Charleston."

"I've never been there, but I hear it's a wonderful city." offered Mavis, who'd heard no such thing.

"It's nice." Virginia wasn't going to encourage her.

"So what brought you clear to Hamden?" Mavis persisted.

"I wanted to spend some time alone," Virginia responded pointedly.

" Well, I guess this is as good a place for that as any," added the Pastor lamely.

"You've had plenty of time to be alone, well over a month. So now what are you planning to do?" asked Mavis somewhat gruffly.

Virginia didn't know how to respond. She felt as though she was being interrogated. She also felt Mavis's disapproval, and was surprised that it stung. What did she care what Mavis thought, and why should she have to explain herself to this nosy old broad? Virginia wanted to get away from Mavis and the fat man with soft hands.

"Watch that MacDougall blood of yours Mavis!" admonished the pastor.

"Mavis is from the MacDougall clan," explained the pastor to Virginia. "Their motto is to conquer or die, and I'm afraid she takes it very seriously."

Virginia didn't respond.

"And I bet that 'strong and faithful' describes you to a tee pastor?" Mavis retorted cheerfully, seeming to be entirely unoffended by the pastor's previous remark.

"Aye, faithful, that's me, although strong, well that's another story all together."

"Oh, I'd say you're strong. You'd have to be to live here among us heathens," Mavis chimed.

"Well, every winter these days, I tell myself I won't be among you fine people much longer. I think it's of to the south I'll be hauling these old bones someday soon."

"The south! Ha! You wouldn't know what to do with yourself in the South, why there you'd be sitting in your little screen room in shorts some February morning, crying for home!"

"But home is where the heart is my dear lady."

"That's right! And your heart is right here where your ass is!" retorted Mavis.

Virginia glanced at the pastor, certain he'd be offended. But he didn't seem to be at all. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Without thinking, she reached for a cookie, and automatically took a bite. It was delicious. She took another and savored its' rich flavor.

The two continued to banter back and forth, and in spite of herself, Virginia became engrossed in their conversation. She remembered sitting around dining room tables in her old life, joking and exchanging gossip. It seemed like a lifetime ago. And it was. It was the lifetime of Cara ago. She felt the grief well up in her again. She'd lost it somehow for a time here in Mavis's warm kitchen. But it was back with a vengeance. She stood up to leave.

"You're running off?" asked Mavis.

"Yes, I really have to get my letters off before the mail goes out," Virginia explained, heading for the door.

"Okay hon. I'll stop by later in the week," Mavis promised to Virginia's dismay. She didn't answer as she made her escape.

"What did I tell you?" Mavis nodded to the pastor.

"Yes, I can see that she's deeply troubled," the pastor sadly observed.

"I'm worried about that one. Something tells me she's not long for this world. Maybe she has some kind of fatal illness, I mean, look at her, she's skin and bones! And her eyes, why they look absolutely haunted!" The pastor could tell that Mavis was getting herself worked up.

"Mavis, I know you're concerned about her, but it's not our place to go barging into other people's lives. We can only be available should the call come in."

"I'm not gonna barge into her life. I'm just gonna feed her. The girl is starving to death! Now how can bringing over a casserole be considered barging?" Mavis defended.

"Just be careful Mavis. I don't want you hurt, and I can see that you're walking a very fine line right now. That girl is a grown woman who wants to be left alone."

"Sometimes I wonder about you pastor, you're way too meek for a man of God. Did we have to ask him to send his son to us? No we did not! He just sent him!"

"And what did we do to his son, Mavis? We crucified him."