Jesse rested both his arms on the back of the pew. “I’m glad you brought it up. I saw her earlier today and she appeared a little upset. Is everything okay with Rachel?”
Michael shrugged. “Yeah, fine. I think maybe Tori’s working too hard. She’s awake pretty early doing the baking for the restaurant before she goes to school. Once in a while, I?
??ll get home from working at the newspaper after school, and I can tell she’s getting up from a nap. But you know Tori, she’s too stubborn to admit anything’s wrong. I hope she’s not getting sick.” Although Michael tried to be the man of the Henderson household, Jesse witnessed concern in his young eyes.
One brow arched, Jesse regarded him drolly. “You think your aunt is stubborn? No kidding.”
The dispute between the two men settled, Pastor Dave walked to the front of the gathering and conversation ceased. The preacher began outlining what he had in mind, the size, shape, and location of the building. The group soon got busy discussing dates and timeframes. The pastor announced he hoped to have the Fellowship Hall ready by Thanksgiving, when the church could have a community feast.
Jesse listened to the discussion with half an ear. So Michael had noticed something wrong with Tori also? Maybe the boy guessed right and she merely worked too hard. She certainly had enough to deal with. But the Tori he’d come to know the last several months wouldn’t react to pressure by falling apart the way she did earlier.
I hate you. You ruined my life.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind when the meeting adjourned.
“I’m heading to the pastor’s house to walk Tori home. You want to join me?” Michael asked sliding from the pew.
“Lead the way.”
As they approached the Pastor’s front door, the sound of female voices shouting assaulted their ears. The men meeting their wives entered the house, and Jesse grinned at the women talking over each other until he spotted Tori. Concern filled him. Fatigue showed plainly on her face. She pushed back loose hair from her bun with a shaky hand. Her face was pasty white, and her freckles stood out against her pale skin. If he’d ever seen anyone ready to run for the chamber pot, it was Tori.
The women wanted to have a church social as a means of raising money, and as usual in any group of women, they couldn’t decide on much of anything beyond that.
The pastor’s wife, a somewhat timid woman, finally turned the meeting over to Sarah Ann Gibbons. The stout, very energetic woman in her early fifties possessed no reluctance in delegating assignments, all the while ignoring complaints. Once Sarah Ann took over, in less than ten minutes everyone had a slip of paper in her hand with a task written on it.
Tori’s gaze met his, and she flinched. That looks like fear on her face. Why would she be afraid of him?
“What are you doing here?” she snapped, walking up to the two men.
Michael gasped. “Tori!”
“And good evening to you, too, Miss Henderson.” Jesse grinned and bowed slightly.
Her hand clutched her waist as she brushed past him, barreling out the door and down the steps. Michael exchanged glances with him as they made a quick exit to catch up with her.
“Tori, slow down,” Michael shouted.
She walked faster, her hand covered her mouth. Several feet from her front door, she bent and emptied her stomach. Jesse rushed to help, but she turned her back on him and choked back sobs.
“What’s the matter?” He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and tried to wipe her face, but she swatted his hand away.
“Nothing, I told you, now leave me alone.” She raced into the house, slamming the door behind her.
“What the hell brought that on?” Jesse asked as the door banged shut.
Michael shook his head. “I told you something’s wrong with her. She hasn’t been herself in a while.”
Jesse studied the front door, as if he expected to see an answer written there. “Did you ask her what’s wrong?”
“A few times. She always says ‘nothing.’”
“Son,” he said, laying his hand on Michael’s shoulder, “one thing I’ve learned about women. When they say nothing’s wrong, you can bet your world’s about to come tumbling down around your ears.”
“You’re probably right. I guess we’ll find out eventually. Good night, Jesse. Thanks again for coming.”
“You’re welcome. Good night.”
Jesse glared at the clock again. Two in the morning. Sleep wouldn’t come. Probably fatigue from the long trip. When he quit lying to himself, Tori’s pale face and vomiting outside her house swam into view. Something troubled the termagant next door. He doubted she’d seen a doctor. Tomorrow he would suggest it. That suggestion would most likely get him a snarled response, or something thrown at his head for his trouble.