The Urge - Part 10

Wilma placed her broom back in the corner and sighed. It had been a long day and she was tired. Although it was barely mid afternoon, Wilma was done with her work at the bakery. She would spend the rest of her day fixing dinner for herself, preparing lunch for the next day, and going to bed early. She always had to be up before down in order to begin cooking for the day. 
Wilma put on her jacket and picked up the left over bread she had collected in a basket and started for the front door. Wilma was almost out when she remembered the rubbish bin underneath the counter. She groaned in protest, but knew she couldn’t let it sit out overnight. Wilma put the basket back down and gathered up the trash. She carried it out through the back of the kitchen to the alleyway were she could dispose of it without worrying about mice working there way into the kitchen. 
Wilma opened the back door and poured the bin out into the compost pile she had going. As she turned back for the door she was startled to see Andrew standing in her way. She let out a slight yelp and fell back onto the pile of refuse. 
“Andrew!” She exclaimed “Why, I nearly died! What are you doing here?”
Andrew stepped forward to help her up and quickly turned to look behind him. He had a look of fear on his face. 
“Andrew? Are you alright?”
Andrew turned back and looked at the older woman as if he had already forgotten she was there.
“What? Oh! Yes. I mean…” Andrew’s voice trailed off as he turned to look over his shoulder again. 
“Andrew? What is going on?”
Andrew turned back to her again. “I’m sorry, Mrs Wilma. Can we talk?”
Wilma didn’t want to talk. She wanted to go home. But, she had never refused someone help before, and she wasn’t about to start. 
“Of course, dear, come inside out of the rain.”
Andrew followed Wilma inside but held the door open for a moment peering out. Andrew eventually closed the door behind him and turned to Wilma. 
“Andrew, something is not right.” Wilma led him to a pair of chairs that sat in the corner of the kitchen. “Now, tell me what’s on your mind”
Andrew looked at her as though he were trying to decide whether he could trust her or not. 
After a moment, Andrew lost control and a tear ran down his face quickly followed by a full breakdown. 
“Oh, dear” Wilma got up quickly and grabbed a rag from the pantry. “Here you are, dear. Now take a big breath and talk to me.”
Andrew sat crying for a moment but eventually pulled himself together. 
“It’s Dorn. I think he…” Andrew’s words trailed off as he drew the strength to speak. “I think he knows something about Ellen, about…The Urge”
Wilma was now fully taken aback. “Ellen? Andrew, I have been in this village my entire life, and I have known Dorn since his mother called on me to be the midwife at his birth. There is no possible way.”
“But, Wilma, who could be causing all of these things? Dorn, he…he’s an atheist!”
Wilma was about to speak but stopped. What could she say? Dorn was different then the rest of the village. 
“Andrew, Dorn does not go to church, nor does he fear God. But that does not mean he is any kind of murderer. It also does not mean that he is working with the devil. The good Lord knows Dorn does not honour him. We must have faith that the Lord will call Dorn in his good time.”
Andrew just stared at the rag in his hands. “Wilma, is Dorn going to hell?”
“Oh, Andrew God made Dorn just like he made you and me. You really think God would send him to hell just for being a little lost? No, child. God loves Dorn too.”
Andrew wiped his eyes one last time and handed the rag back to Wilma as he stood. 
“I’m just not so sure.” And with that, he left.
Wilma watched him go. Wilma took the rag and threw it across the room in frustration. Andrew was beginning to get on her nerves.