The Improper Life of Bezillia Grove by Susan Gregg Gilmore Page B

could tell that I was looking back.
    By the time we got to the water’s edge, the mud was starting to dry hard on Adelaide’s skin. She stood on the bank, waving her arms in the air and screaming, “Get it off. Get it off. I don’t want to be a peanut!”
    “A pecan,” I corrected her and then reached for a branch hanging low over the bank’s edge and sidled my way down the grassy slope and into the creek. The water felt cool around my ankles, and I quickly found my footing in the pebbles that covered the creek’s floor. I stretched out both arms, and Adelaide leapt toward me, still clutching Baby Stella in her right hand.
    Before she had both feet firmly planted beneath her, she plopped her bottom down in the water and started rubbing her arms and legs with her muddy hands. I crouched behind my little sister and untied her braids, carefully working my fingers through her curly brown hair. I cupped my hands, lowered them into the creek, and poured the water over her head.
    “How ’bout that, you’re starting to look like a little white girl again,” I said, gently cleaning her shoulders and back. “I was beginning to wonder if you were one of Nathaniel’s daughters and not a Grove after all.”
    Adelaide giggled and continued to wash the mud off her legs, rubbing her knees so hard I was afraid she might make them bleed. Then she locked Baby Stella between her thighs and started pouring handfuls of water over the doll’s plastic head.
    “I think that’d be nice,” she said.
    “What would be nice?”
    “Being Nathaniel’s daughter.”
    I laughed out loud. But when I saw Adelaide’s serious expression, I hid my smile behind my hands.
    “Why’s that so funny?” she asked.
    “I don’t know. I guess if you were Nathaniel’s daughter, you’d be as dark as that mud, and that just seemed kind of funny to me.”
    “Yeah, so? That mud’s a pretty color. Besides, I like Samuel.”
    “Samuel?” I was surprised to hear his name, and for a moment I wondered if even Adelaide had caught me admiring him.
    “Yeah. Samuel. I’d like Samuel to be my big brother. And if I was Nathaniel’s little girl, then Samuel would be my brother, right? I think that’d be real nice.”
    I retied my sister’s hair in one short braid and then softly stroked her neck, rinsing the last traces of mud from her tiny body. “Well, there’s no big brother that’s going to wash the mud out of your hair like I just did.” And then I playfully poured one more handful of water over her head.
    Adelaide stretched her feet out in front of her and started kicking. She giggled and waved her arms, tossing water in every direction. I closed my eyes and asked her to stop, but she only kicked harder and giggled louder. I leaned back on my forearms and started kicking my own two feet. Adelaide’s laugh grew strong and full. It was a sweet, unbridled sound that came straight from the bottom of her belly. I had never heard such a rich, beautiful melody. I think that day Adelaide washed the mud and a whole lot of sadness right down that creek. All these years later, I can still hear her laughter ringing in my ears.
    But Maizelle would be looking for us before long. She’d want to give Adelaide a hot, soapy bath before she started cooking the evening meal. She’d want to scrub her down one more time for good measure. I reluctantly guided my sister out of the water. And while I stretched out in the sun to dry my clothes, Adelaide crawled under the willow tree and started making a bed for Baby Stella. She needed another nap, Adelaide said, and we couldn’t leave until she’d had one.
    The sun warmed my body, and I raised my arms above my head, offering myself completely to its touch. A bee buzzed back and forth across the field, and I could hear Adelaide humming a lullaby to her baby. I wondered if that doll, all snug in my sister’s little arms, felt as relaxed as I did. And for once, I really didn’t care how long Baby Stella needed to