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nose. An IV ran fluid into his veins, and a cardiac machine monitored his heart rhythm. Several other machines were attached to him, but Aunt Aggie couldn’t identify them. She touched his forehead, pushing the hair back from his eyebrows. He needed a haircut, bless his heart. She should have brought her scissors.
    â€œAggie, don’t touch him. Please.” Bart’s voice was just above a whisper.
    â€œPlease, Aggie,” Hannah whispered across her son. “We want you to wait in the waiting room.”
    â€œWhat you’re whisperin’ for?” Aggie demanded loudly. “Ain’t the goal to wake him up? No wonder he still in a coma.”
    â€œAggie, please,” Hannah said again. “Don’t make us call the guard back in. You really need to leave.”
    Aggie gaped at them, indignant. “I got as much right in here as y’all got. I love this boy arry bit as much as y’all do!”
    â€œHe doesn’t need visitors,” Bart whispered harshly.
    â€œIs it ’cause of Celia?” Aunt Aggie demanded. “Cause what you done to that girl, sendin’ her home like you done…oughta be a law. Now you tryin’ to thow me out?”
    â€œI’ll call the guard if I have to.”
    Aggie wondered if this was the day she’d surrender to her age—and the burial part, too—as her heart began whamming into her chest. “You oughta be ashamed!” she threw back at them. “You know my Celia didn’t do this! She saved his life! If she wants him dead, she’d have waited to call the ambulance! Let him croak, then act like she tryin’ to save him.”
    â€œShe lied to us,” Hannah said through her teeth.
    â€œHow? When she told you a lie?”
    â€œIt’s what she didn’t tell us,” Bart returned. “She didn’t tell us that she’d killed her first husband!”
    Aggie felt the weight of her purse and wondered if she could hit them with it from across the bed. She clutched her chest, as if that would slow her racing heart, and through her white caps said, “My Celia ain’t never killed a bug! She ain’t never lied to you! She didn’t tell you she was accused of Nathan’s death, ’cause she knowed folks like you wouldn’t wait for the firin’ squad. You’d mow her down before the words was even outa her mouth!”
    â€œShe betrayed us,” Hannah said, livid tears springing to her red eyes. “Stan may die. He’s our only son!”
    â€œRead my lips,” Aggie said through her dental work. “She…didn’t…do it! ’Stead of bein’ mad at her, be mad at the po-leece who’s stopped lookin’ for the killer. He still’s out there, you know, the monster what really tried to kill Stan. It ain’t the likes o’ me that guard needs to keep out!”
    â€œUntil the police tell us differently, we want Celia to stay away,” Hannah said. “And we aren’t allowing any visitors at all.”
    â€œWell, ain’t that con- ven -ient? She been good to y’all people, and she make your son happier than he ever been. And this what you do to her!”
    â€œBart, do something,” Hannah said.
    He headed for the door and got the guard to come in. “Get her out,” he ordered.
    Aggie swung her purse like a lasso, aiming right between the guard’s eyes. “You lay one hand on me, I’ll lay you out just like him,” she said, referring to Stan. “I know the way out.” Then, straightening her dress and picking a dot of lint off of her skirt, she made her way to the door.
    Just before she left the room, she turned back. “You be sorry for this one day,” she said. “Destroyin’ somebody never did nothin’ but love your son. Someday she’ll be the mama of your grandchildren.”
    Hannah didn’t answer. She only turned back to her son.

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