was nice.” Julia remembered Leroy. Usually when the class laughed at Callie, cocky little Leroy was the leader.
“Then I pushed him.”
“You didn’t!”
“Just back into his seat. That’s all. So he wouldn’t fall again.”
Julia hugged her daughter harder. “No more pushing, Callie. I know Leroy provokes you, but that’s not going to help anything.”
“Why, because I’m supposed to be a lady?”
Bard’s words again. “Not at all. Because it’s the right thing to do. Girl or boy.”
“Pickles!”
“Pickles?”
“That’s what Tiffany says when she’s mad.”
“You’d better get under the covers now, sweetums.”
“Can’t. You have to stand up first. You’re on my blanket.”
Julia got to her feet. “I’m going to tuck you in. Just let me know if I succeed.”
“I like your room. I’m glad I’m sleeping here.”
Julia had always liked this room, too, and it hadn’t surprised her that Callie chose it. The bedroom was large and airy, with windows on two sides and climbing trees just out of reach. At Callie’s age, she had asked Maisy to paint it a sunny yellow, and it had remained that way until she was a teenager. Then Julia couldn’t darken the walls enough to suit herself. In an uncharacteristic moment of parental defiance, Maisy had refused to let her paint them black, so she and her mother had compromised on navy blue.
Now the room was a soft lavender, or had been last time she’d been able to see it. “What color are the walls in here, Callie?”
“Purple.”
“Light purple?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I painted it this color my first year in college.”
Christian had helped, and so had Fidelity. Julia felt a fresh stab of pain. Callie would never know her biological father had painted the ceiling just above her head. Or that her mother’s best friend had painted the trim, carelessly slopping more on the walls than the window frames until they’d made her sit and supervise.
Callie wouldn’t know that she had been conceived inside these very walls, just days before Christian was convicted of Fidelity’s murder and sentenced to a life away from the daughter he didn’t know he had.
“Purple makes me sleepy,” Callie said. She sounded like a child drifting to the land of Nod.
“I can’t read to you, but I could tell you a story.”
“I don’t think I can…stay awake.”
Julia sat on the side of the bed again and felt for Callie’s face. Then she landed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “I’ll tell you a longer one tomorrow to make up for it.”
“You two ready for lights out?”
Julia hadn’t heard her mother’s approach. “This is one tired little girl.”
Maisy’s footsteps ringed the bed. “Good night, princess. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night…Leave the door open.”
“We will.” Julia felt Maisy take her hand.
In the hallway, Maisy put her arm around her daughter. “You’re ready for bed, too, aren’t you?”
“I am tired.”
At the bottom of the stairs, after a long, slow descent, Maisy spoke again. “How did things go with Bard?”
Julia realized her mother needed to know at least part of what had occurred. “Bard’s taking this personally. And I guess I antagonized him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t want your life to be any harder than it already is.”
“He pulled out all the stops.” And inside she was still trembling from the dissonant roar.
“Julia, whatever you decide, you know it’ll be all right with me, don’t you? I’m not trying to make you do anything.”
Julia thought about that. Maisy had always been a permissive parent. Sometimes Julia thought the absence of rules had been a sneaky but useful form of control. With few parental limits, Julia had been forced to choose her own so carefully that when she’d erred, it had usually been on the side of caution.
“You’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do, but you want me here, Maisy. You’ve made it clear.”
“I won’t lie. I love it.”
“Am I imagining it, or have you been clearing out the hallway?”
“I’ve just been making paths. Lord knows, we’ve needed them for years.”
Julia allowed herself to be steered slowly toward the downstairs bedroom. Since finding her way through the halls of Gandy Willson, she had grown more confident. She still shuffled, but no step was an anxiety attack.
“I’ve laid out a nightgown for you. All your bathroom things are in a row on the shelf above the radiator. Will you need help?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Then how about if I leave you in the bathroom first, then come back for you in a few minutes? Unless you’re planning to take a bath?”
“I’ll shower in the morning.”
Julia found everything she needed and got ready for bed. Back in her room, she felt along the foot rail of the bed for her nightgown.
“I can leave you alone to undress and come back later,” Maisy said.
“Thanks, but I think I’m going right to sleep.”
“Actually, I need your help with something.”
“Then stay while I change.”
Julia heard the bedsprings creak. The bed, like nearly everything else in the house, was an antique, which Maisy had always called “preloved.”
Maisy was silent while Julia undressed, until she got down to her bra and panties. “Honey, you’re so thin.”
“I’m at a disadvantage here. I can’t see you, remember?”
“Trust me, thin is not what you’d see.”
“I haven’t been
