had been relatively normal.
“Oh, Clara,” she cried, shaking her head.
“Listen to me, Marilee. You know what it’s like to be rejected by those you love. That’s exactly what Winnie’s feeling right now, although she’d cut her tongue out before admitting it. She’s just a kid. Seventeen years old. Not much older than Josh.”
Marilee wanted to hide her head under a pillow and not have to think about it. How could she help someone else’s child when she hadn’t been able to help her own? How could she not? “Well, I suppose I could take her in for a couple of days,” she said at last. “Until other arrangements can be made. You realize I can’t make any long-term plans right now.”
Ruby appeared in the doorway. “Winnie said to thank you for the sandwich, but she had to be on her way. She took her sandwich with her.”
Marilee looked up. “On her way where?”
Ruby shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
“And you let her get away?” Clara cried.
“What was I supposed to do? She’s twice my size.”
“She can’t just leave,” Marilee said, jumping from the bed. “She has no place to go.”
Clara made a tsking sound. “I should have known something like this would happen. That girl can be downright ornery. Come on, Ruby, we’ll have to go after her.”
“I’ll go,” Marilee said, hurrying out of the room. She slammed out the front door. A moment later, she spotted Winnie; it would have been hard to miss her considering her size. “Winnie, wait!” she cried. “You can’t go.” The girl continued on. Marilee sped up. “Winnie, please don’t go.”
The girl turned as Marilee caught up with her and stopped so abruptly Marilee almost slammed into her. “What do you want?”
“Please don’t leave.”
“Look, lady, I may be black, broke and pregnant, but I’m not stupid, okay? I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“Hurt my feelings?” Winnie gave a snort. “You can’t hurt my feelings. Nobody can. I’ve got a thick skin, but I’m thin on patience. And I don’t feel like listening to some white woman bellyaching ‘cause her husband left her. I’ve got my own problems, thank you very much.” She turned and began walking again.
Marilee stood there, aghast. Here she’d been trying to help the girl, only to be insulted. “Excuse me,” she called out, “but I am not grieving over my husband. I’m upset because my son left with him. And don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of wimp, because I’m not. I’m a lot stronger than you think.” She was only vaguely aware that the day had turned cold and a fine mist was falling. “Hello,” she called out angrily.
Winnie turned. “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to be somewhere.”
“Today? Right this minute?”
“It’s important.”
It was starting to rain. “Perhaps you could stay the night. You need to get out of this wet weather. It can’t be good for the baby.”
The girl seemed to ponder it. “Okay,” she said with a great deal of reluctance. “I suppose I can stay one night, but I definitely have to be somewhere tomorrow.”
“Fine. You can spend the night, and tomorrow I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
“As long as you don’t start crying again. I can’t be around negative people in my condition.”
Marilee tried not to take offense at the remark as they started back for the house. “Do you like hot chocolate? It’ll chase the chill away.”
“Yeah, and may I have another sandwich? I’m not crazy about bologna, but I’m eating for two now, you know.”
Marilee nodded. “Yes, certainly.”
Winnie nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll sleep at your place tonight, but I’m outta here first thing in the morning.”
“First thing,” Marilee agreed.
“But not too early,” Winnie said. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I don’t have school. I’ll probably sleep till about ten o’clock.”
“Ten o’clock then.”
“And I like to drink juice and read the funnies before I start my day.”
Marilee wasn’t about to tell her she didn’t get the newspaper and there was no juice in the house. Besides, she didn’t have time to worry about it; she had to concentrate on getting along with Winnie until another home could be found.
It wouldn’t be easy. The girl had attitude.
NELL BREWER TOOK A BITE of her spaghetti, gagged and spit a mouthful into her napkin. “Sam, this is the worst spaghetti sauce I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
He regarded his mother. “Don’t beat around the bush, Mom. Tell me how you really feel.”
“How can you mess up something straight out of a jar?”
“It tasted bland so I added spices.”
She was making faces. “Tastes like you dumped a cupful of oregano in it.”
“You don’t have to eat it.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
With a disgusted sigh, Sam stood. He picked up both plates and carried them to the kitchen sink, where he dumped the contents into the garbage disposal. He flipped on the switch and waited for the ruined dinner to disappear. The disposal ground to life, wheezed and died.
Nell hurried over. “Well, would you look at that? Your cooking is so bad it broke the garbage disposal.”
“My cooking has nothing to do with it. I just need to press the reset button and it’ll be okay.” Sam opened the cabinet door then reached beneath the disposal and located the reset button. He pressed it, but nothing happened.
Peering over his shoulder, Nell gave a grunt. “I knew we should have ordered takeout.”
Sam rose quickly and collided with his mother, almost knocking her to the floor. He reached out to keep her from falling, his patience lost. “Mom, would you please get out of my way!”
She crossed her arms. “Don’t you raise your voice to me, Samuel Brewer. I’m still your mother, whether you like it or not. I’m just thankful your father isn’t here to see how you treat me.”
“Mom, please move.”
“You refuse to let me cook in my own kitchen, despite the fact you haven’t the slightest notion how to go about it. It’s a wonder we haven’t both died of ptomaine poisoning. You won’t even allow me to take a bath
