was clever with curly cues and a big dot over the i . In the picture, we grinned big-open-mouthed, glad to be out of church. We didn’t have our shoes on; those we’d torn off in the car on the way home.
Micah was in a telling-me-stuff mood. “I’m gonna be famous. You wait and see.”
I flopped cross-legged on his bed while he put his paints away.
“I’m going to make buckets and trucks of money and live in a mansion on a hill.”
“Can I come visit?”
“Sure. It won’t be in West Blahginia, though.”
“How come?”
“Because I’ll be rich and I won’t have to live here, that’s why.” He scribbled on his pad, making a face with lightning bolts coming out of the eyes. “It’s stupid here.”
“Is not.”
“Is too. Stoooopid.” He punched me on the arm and pinched my knee until I said uncle. “I have homework, Squirk-brain. Get out.”
I grabbed the Popsicle stick frame with our picture, and ran back to my room to set it on the table by my bed. I lay across my bed, chewing a Peep from my Easter loot. My dirty feet were on Grandma Faith’s quilt and she didn’t care, and neither did I. I thought about Micah leaving me and decided it couldn’t happen, since that would be too sad. I finished my Peep and went back to his room. Micah was looking out the window, long and hard and far away. I told him that he could never, ever leave me. I told him loud enough that he quit looking so far away and looked at me.
Chapter 6
It takes two to tangle
Momma visited the Baptists for a while. The rest of us didn’t want to go, and she didn’t make us. We stayed home with Daddy and did Shakespeare plays. Micah was Hamlet and said, “To be or not to be.” I was his momma who was poisoned, Andy killed Hamlet with a sword, and Daddy played the rest.
The last Sunday she went to church, Momma came home mad as a wet cat. She tore off straight to the kitchen, came out holding a circle glass with one piece of ice floating, and drank it down in two gulps. I was coloring and she made me go outside the lines of the pony when she hammered her glass on the table. “That stupid Foster Durant.”
When Daddy came in from mowing the grass, he sipped his drink while Momma made meatloaf and cream potatoes with green beans. She didn’t say why Preacher Foster Durant was stupid, but I could’ve told her that before. The whole rest of the day went by without one word of fussing and no more talk about church and preachers. I took a deep breath of happy.
When I went to bed that night, Daddy came in and read to me. He said I was the only one who would listen to his Shakespeare. That made me feel special. Opening up the book, he rubbed the page down smooth, and then took a sip from his glass to clear his throat out. He read, “Of one that lov’d not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplex’d in the extreme.”
I was soon slipping into sleep.
It was about time for summer when things went wrong. It started when Momma went to the bathroom and threw up. When she went back to bed, I brought her water and saltines. It happened again the next day, but Momma wouldn’t let me tell Daddy she was sick.
This went on until she put on her pointy chin. I followed her to the kitchen. She fetched out the stuff to make salt-rising bread and sweet bread. For the salt rising bread, she peeled and cut potatoes and put them in a jar along with white cornmeal, salt, sugar, baking powder, and soda. She poured in warm water and scalded milk, put the top on the jar, and put the jar in a pot of more warm water until ready to make the sponge.
While that set, she stirred yeast to make the sweet bread with cinnamon. I smelled Grandma Faith. Then I saw her. She stood by Momma while Momma stirred. Grandma turned and shook her head back and forth real slow. I knew then something was coming to beat us over the head.
When the dough for the sweet bread was ready, Momma said, “It helps to pound the dog spit
Micah was in a telling-me-stuff mood. “I’m gonna be famous. You wait and see.”
I flopped cross-legged on his bed while he put his paints away.
“I’m going to make buckets and trucks of money and live in a mansion on a hill.”
“Can I come visit?”
“Sure. It won’t be in West Blahginia, though.”
“How come?”
“Because I’ll be rich and I won’t have to live here, that’s why.” He scribbled on his pad, making a face with lightning bolts coming out of the eyes. “It’s stupid here.”
“Is not.”
“Is too. Stoooopid.” He punched me on the arm and pinched my knee until I said uncle. “I have homework, Squirk-brain. Get out.”
I grabbed the Popsicle stick frame with our picture, and ran back to my room to set it on the table by my bed. I lay across my bed, chewing a Peep from my Easter loot. My dirty feet were on Grandma Faith’s quilt and she didn’t care, and neither did I. I thought about Micah leaving me and decided it couldn’t happen, since that would be too sad. I finished my Peep and went back to his room. Micah was looking out the window, long and hard and far away. I told him that he could never, ever leave me. I told him loud enough that he quit looking so far away and looked at me.
Chapter 6
It takes two to tangle
Momma visited the Baptists for a while. The rest of us didn’t want to go, and she didn’t make us. We stayed home with Daddy and did Shakespeare plays. Micah was Hamlet and said, “To be or not to be.” I was his momma who was poisoned, Andy killed Hamlet with a sword, and Daddy played the rest.
The last Sunday she went to church, Momma came home mad as a wet cat. She tore off straight to the kitchen, came out holding a circle glass with one piece of ice floating, and drank it down in two gulps. I was coloring and she made me go outside the lines of the pony when she hammered her glass on the table. “That stupid Foster Durant.”
When Daddy came in from mowing the grass, he sipped his drink while Momma made meatloaf and cream potatoes with green beans. She didn’t say why Preacher Foster Durant was stupid, but I could’ve told her that before. The whole rest of the day went by without one word of fussing and no more talk about church and preachers. I took a deep breath of happy.
When I went to bed that night, Daddy came in and read to me. He said I was the only one who would listen to his Shakespeare. That made me feel special. Opening up the book, he rubbed the page down smooth, and then took a sip from his glass to clear his throat out. He read, “Of one that lov’d not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplex’d in the extreme.”
I was soon slipping into sleep.
It was about time for summer when things went wrong. It started when Momma went to the bathroom and threw up. When she went back to bed, I brought her water and saltines. It happened again the next day, but Momma wouldn’t let me tell Daddy she was sick.
This went on until she put on her pointy chin. I followed her to the kitchen. She fetched out the stuff to make salt-rising bread and sweet bread. For the salt rising bread, she peeled and cut potatoes and put them in a jar along with white cornmeal, salt, sugar, baking powder, and soda. She poured in warm water and scalded milk, put the top on the jar, and put the jar in a pot of more warm water until ready to make the sponge.
While that set, she stirred yeast to make the sweet bread with cinnamon. I smelled Grandma Faith. Then I saw her. She stood by Momma while Momma stirred. Grandma turned and shook her head back and forth real slow. I knew then something was coming to beat us over the head.
When the dough for the sweet bread was ready, Momma said, “It helps to pound the dog spit
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