Celia smiled wistfully. “Seph…I know Michael hurt you.”

My heart seemed to stop when she said the name of my old boyfriend.

“And I know that you’re going to take care of yourself,” she went on. “But you don’t have to be alone.”

Denying the old pain, I went for humor. “I’m not. Nana’s here.”

“That’s not what I meant, though you are busy being invaded right now, huh?” She stretched and yawned. “I’ll ask Johnny to make a brunch tomorrow—”

“Damn!” I slapped the desk.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to go to Columbus tomorrow. High school friends gathering for a brunch.” I paused. “I’ll cancel. They’ll understand.” I wasn’t sure Nancy would understand, but Olivia and Betsy wouldn’t likely even notice.

“No. I think you should go. We can hold the fort. If it’s a brunch, you’ll be back by four, right?”

This was going to be a big deal for Nancy; I knew it. “Yeah. Earlier, probably.”

“Then go, Seph.” She put a hand on my arm. “That’s why we’re all here. Tending Theo has to be done, but if we all pitch in, it doesn’t have to totally interrupt anybody’s whole life.”

Celia stood up. “I’m going to check on Erik and Theo, but I want to know one thing before I go.” She stopped at the doorway.

I stiffened, afraid she was going to ask about the duffel. “What’s that?”

“Would Johnny have gotten that kiss he was after?”

I put my head down on the desk and groaned.

Celia giggled all the way down the hall.

“What is the devil, really?”

Betsy and I exchanged a quick glance when Olivia asked the question of Nancy.

Nancy, in a very conservative navy-blue turtleneck and sweater, blinked at Olivia, clearly stunned by the question. She looked so pale since she’d stopped wearing makeup, and her dark hair was in a bun under a little lace doily—her look was positively severe. At the realization that the question was meant derisively and not seriously, Nancy set her after-brunch coffee down with a harsh chink of china on china. She didn’t answer.

“Well. Apparently you’ve memorized only a portion of the witnessing methods. No doubt you’ll read up on unbelievers with this question tonight, right?” Olivia tossed her head, a motion that would’ve flung her long peroxide-blond hair bouncing over her shoulder if it hadn’t been so overprocessed that it hung flat and lifeless around her face. She wore a bright red T-shirt with an acid-washed denim shirt over it. Her fire-engine—red lipstick had worn away while she’d eaten, and now she seemed haggard with it missing.

Nancy swallowed hard and gazed at me imploringly. She was wrong to trust me to know what to say, because I didn’t.

“German chocolate cake,” Betsy said, adjusting her glasses. “German chocolate cake is the devil.”

Olivia laughed.

I’d always thought of Betsy as Velma, from Scooby-Doo. She’d had the same hairdo, a short bob, for as long as I’d known her. She wore round-framed glasses and couldn’t see a thing without them. Though she did wear short skirts, she’d never been a fan of orange like Velma—thank goodness. With her carrot-colored hair, it would have been a disaster.

I leaned forward, pointing a finger at Betsy. “I knew it. I knew coconut was evil. Anything that comes from something that looks like a shrunken head has to be.” I glanced at Nancy. Play along, I willed her mentally. But there was only reproach in her tight and sharp expression. It was entirely accusing.

“Go on, Seph. Make fun of me too. Persecute me. Disregard the past we’ve built.”

“Seems to me the only one disregarding the past is you.” Olivia was not being diplomatic.

“Wait a minute.” I didn’t like how this was going. “Your choice is yours, Nance. I’ve always respected your choices. I still do, but you’re not respecting ours. We all have different callings.” And how. “Aren’t you allowed to have friends who aren’t of your faith?”

Nancy’s eyes teared up.

“Of course not,” Olivia snapped. “She must socialize with her own and cut ties to all the nonbelievers, for they will weaken her. Sounds like a cult to me.”

I glared at Olivia. She glared back, daring me to defend Nancy. It was clear she could cut her ties with both Nancy and me because she had all of the friends she needed in one: Betsy. They worked at the same factory, and they both had bar stools at their local dive that had been molded over the years to fit their backsides perfectly. I would have said that aloud, but they had become the kind of women who would think it was a compliment, the kind of women we had used to mock in high school.

“Well? Doesn’t it?” Olivia pressed.

“You take everything so personal, Nance. You’ve become a real downer,” Betsy said gently. “Stop judging us and let things be how they used to be.”

“Things will never be how they were.” Nancy reached for her purse.

Olivia sighed as if she were the one being slighted. “Can’t you just be one of those people who gets saved and only acts different on Sundays?”

“Olivia—” I started.

Nancy stood. “I believe in it! That’s why.” Nancy tossed her napkin to the table and proceeded to the coffee shop door with confident steps, but she hesitated at the door and looked back. At me. I couldn’t tell if the look was hostile or remorseful. I was watching her go—letting her go, but watching. I didn’t want it to end this way, but it was her choice. Who was I to stop her? My gaze fell away.

These people were the reason I had a pen name. In school, I’d kept my beliefs secret. Every other time I had trusted someone with the truth, it had been used against me, so I took no chances with this group. Without them, I’d have been a complete social pariah. For a long time I’d known that if Nancy learned that I sympathized with wæres, she’d hate me; moreover, if she knew I was a pagan, because of her new beliefs she’d have to hate me more than she hated Olivia and Betsy.

I respected her for walking out. I knew how she felt all too well.

“I believe in java,” Olivia said loudly, raising her cup to Nancy in salute.

Betsy couldn’t hold in her giggle. Nancy had always been melodramatic, always said things like “persecute me,” but it could have ended some other way. This was…snotty. We could have parted without Olivia’s belittling manner. But that was Olivia. If you weren’t with her, you were against her.

The bells on the door jingled loudly. Nancy had left.

I stared into my flavored espresso. I was Nancy’s friend. I’d just failed the biggest friend test ever because I hadn’t gone after her. My inaction meant I didn’t care about her. But I did care about her. That was why I’d let a good friend just walk out of my life on her own terms. I hoped she held her head high.

And I–I who hid my pagan roots like a vain woman with a bottle of peroxide—my religion wasn’t something I put out there to get a reaction with, like some of my peers did. That wasn’t the point. But fear of rejection, rejection like Nancy had just experienced, had kept me from it for years. If I’d ever told Olivia and Betsy, they would have reacted with “Ooooo” and would have thought it was all fun like the sitcoms made it out to be. They were the types who would see “An’ it harm none” as a free license.

But not Nancy. She cared. She would have tried to talk me out of it as if I were merely a confused little girl with the wrong directions to the candy store. She would never have understood. My comfort with it would have tweaked all her taboos and set her on a righteous indignation trip.

Betsy sniggered, pushed her glasses back up her nose. “What’s with her? She on the rag or something?” She looked at me for the answer.

I considered asking Betsy if she was truly that brainless, but I didn’t. If she worshipped anything, it was Olivia. So, yeah, I guessed she was brainless. “We gave her no reason to stay,” I said.