If You Find Me(23)

“Let it be, Delly.”

I know I snapped at Delaney. I know I reverted to woods talk, and I need to get better at catching the words before I say them. I need to talk this new-world talk, not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Sorry, Delaney,” I mumble, my eyes on my plate. “I worry about Jenessa, that’s all. I’m not used to having anyone help.”

I pick up my fork and spear two pancakes off the pile.

“At least tell me you can speak like a normal person? You sound, like, eighty or something.”

“I was quoting Mama. I can talk right fine.”

“ ‘Right fine’? Mom!”

I lean over and grab the syrup, pouring some onto Nessa’s chopped pancakes. I shake my head no when Ness stuffs a large uncut section into her mouth, getting syrup on the tip of her nose.

“Smaller bites, Ness. You know what happens.”

I see a sadness fill Melissa’s eyes, and I look away. There’s no room for pity. Feeling sorry for yourself does no one no good.

“Make her work on talking normal, Mom. Because it’s just going to make school harder if she acts all weird and stuff.”

Melissa gives Delaney a long, hard look.

“What?” Delaney pouts. “I’m just sayin’.” She puts down her fork. “May I be excused? Kara invited me over to try out their new trampoline.”

[page]“That sounds like fun, Delly.”

Delaney sighs, looking from her mother to me. “You can come, too, if you want.”

Melissa beams at Delaney, but I hear the uninvitation the loudest.

“Thank you kindly, but I’d better stay here with Jenessa. She needs a bath, for starters.”

“She sure does,” Delaney says under her breath as she gets up, pecking Melissa on the cheek. We hear the clopping of her feet as she runs upstairs. I relax against the back of my chair. Luckily, Nessa’s too busy chewing to pay attention to grown folk jawing.

“Ma’am, Ness is in need of some meat on her bones, but she’s not too good at stopping. I’d suggest removing the rest of the pancakes from the table. She’ll sneak food when folk aren’t looking.”

“Thank you, Carey.” Melissa gets up and grabs the platter, whisking it off into the kitchen. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ness looks at me, her eyes pleading.

“One more, and that’s it,” I say, handing over one of my own pancakes. She dances in her seat, acting as if I’ve offered her the world. I stand up to pour the syrup, but Melissa waves me back to my own breakfast. She pours the syrup for Nessa and tucks a paper napkin down the front of my sister’s shirt.

Afterward, she pretends to read a newspaper, but I can feel her eyes on us. I concentrate on my plate, taking my own advice to eat slowly, not to overdo it, especially with the bacon. It’s so hard, because it all tastes so good. I want to dance in my seat, too. I had no idea food could taste so good, but my stomach feels about the size of Mama’s drawstring deerskin change purse.

I’m collecting mine and Nessa’s plates and utensils to take to the sink when my father walks in, a cloud of cold trailing behind him. It smells like our woods in the early-winter mornings, with the copper kettle singing over the campfire, me playing my violin with socks on my hands, messing up just to make Ness giggle.

“My girls,” he says, his voice husky, and Melissa smiles along with Jenessa. I keep my head down, chewing hard.

I remember Delaney’s words, and borrow them.

“May I be excused?”

“You may,” Melissa says, approval in her voice. “I’m thinking you girls will want to get cleaned up. I’ll run a bubble bath for Jenessa and help her wash, if that’s okay with you, Carey?”

I hesitate as a mental snapshot of Nessa’s back fills my mind. There’s no hiding it forever, I reckon, although I wish I could. I choke out a response.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I’m glad I can wash myself. I’m feeling grimy, and excited about washing with water that’s actually hot. Funny how fast a body gets used to modern conveniences. The metal washtub seems like so long ago, like bathing beside herds of dinosaurs.

“Have you ever used a shower before?”

Looking down at my feet, I turn crimson.

“Once, in the motel. The hot and cold water blend together.”

“That’s right. Upstairs, the hot water is the left handle, and the cold is the right. When the temperature’s right, turn the knob in the middle and the water will come out from the showerhead above.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I glance at Nessa, and it’s impossible not to smile at her syrup nose. “Melissa is going to give you a bath. Mind her, okay?”

Nessa nods and grabs onto one of Melissa’s hands, holding it in her two sticky ones. My heart lurches, because it’s always been me and her . . . but that’s not normal. Not for most people in the world, and I want Nessa to be normal. I want her to stand on her own two feet, to have other people she can really, truly depend on. She’s not a baby anymore. She deserves a real mama, a mama like Melissa.

Sorry, Mama.

Melissa leads her away by the hand, and I rinse off our plates in the sink, fascinated by the blue-colored squirt soap and the sponge, which is soft on one side and bark-rough on the other.