“Don’t you dare!” Sarah exclaimed. “It’s so beautiful. How many years would it take for you to grow it that long again?”
Minette grimaced. “A lot, I suppose.” She got up and kissed Sarah’s forehead. “I’m going to the den. Call me if the kids act up. Julie’s having trouble sleeping, again.”
“She’s having some problems at kindergarten,” Sarah said and then bit her lip. “Oh, dear,” she added when she saw her great-niece’s expression. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
Minette sat back down. “What sort of problems?” she asked curtly.
Sarah tried not to tell, but that stare wore her down. “One of the other girls makes fun of her, because she’s slow.”
“She’s slow because she’s methodical when she’s doing things,” Minette said. “I’ll have a talk with Miss Banks.”
“That might be wise. Miss Banks is a nice woman. She taught grammar school for a long time, before she started teaching in kindergarten.”
“I know.” She leaned forward. “She taught me in grammar school!”
Sarah laughed. “Did she? I’d forgotten.”
“I hadn’t. I’ll speak with her tomorrow.”
“Good idea.”
“Poor Julie,” Minette said. “I was picked on in school, too.” She made a face. “There should be a special place in the hereafter just for bullies,” she said darkly.
“Well, a lot of them just need standing up to,” Sarah replied. “Sometimes they have terrible problems of their own and they’re making trouble to call attention to themselves. Others are insecure and shy and don’t know how to interact with other people. And some...”
“...some are just plain mean,” Minette interrupted curtly.
“Well, there’s that, too.” Sarah laughed suddenly.
“What’s funny?”
“I was remembering what you did to your own little problem in middle school,” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eyes. “I believe liver and onions and ketchup and rice were involved...?”
“Well, she shouldn’t have made me mad in the cafeteria at lunch, should she?” Minette chuckled. “Big mistake.”
“Took the wind out of her sails, that did. She was nice to you after you took her down a few inches in front of her girlfriends.”
“She had a mother dying of cancer and her brother had just been arrested for stealing a car,” Minette replied quietly. “I thought she was the nastiest girl I’d ever met. But her father was a drunk and she didn’t have anybody at home who cared about her. She was scared.” She smiled. “I didn’t know all that at the time, of course.”
“How did you find out?”
“She got cancer herself, a few months ago,” Minette replied quietly. “She sent me an email and apologized for how she’d treated me when we were kids. She wanted me to forgive her.” Minette bit her lower lip. “I spent years hating her for what she did.”
“What did you say?”
“Of course I forgave her. She’s on her way to recovery, but it will be a long road.” She smiled sadly. “The things we learn years after it’s too late to do any good.”
“I guess we really never know other people.”
Minette nodded. “And we judge without knowing.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
“Least of all, me,” Minette said. She got up again. “With that in mind, it might not hurt to find out a little something about Julie’s enemy.”
Sarah smiled. “Nice thought. And if she’s just mean...?”
“Well, then, I’ll talk to her parents, won’t I?” Minette laughed.
Sarah just nodded.
* * *
Minette hadn’t wanted to revisit those old memories, but they were relentless. It was hard being a child. Without maturity and experience, how could the victim of bullying know how to cope? Schools promised aid, but some people were reluctant to involve themselves in situations of conflict.
Minette sat down at her desk and turned on her computer. So often, children never experienced that happy childhood of which so many novels spoke. Probably, she considered, childhood had more relation to the painful world of Charles Dickens than to a happy cartoon movie that always ended well.
Ironically the first news tidbit she pulled up dealt with a child whose relentless persecution had led to suicide. Minette bit her lip. How horrible, to let things get to that point. But many children were reluctant to tell their parents or caregivers about such situations.
Her own ordeal had lasted for two years. She recalled it with bitterness, even on the heels of the apology that had come so unexpectedly. The experience had ruined school for her, despite the kindness of her few friends. She looked back on those so-called carefree days not with joy, but with sadness.
But, she reminded herself, those days were long gone for her. Now, she had to do for Julie what she couldn’t do for herself.
She looked up the contact information for Miss Banks and started composing an email.
* * *
Hayes was sitting up in bed, looking very pale and gaunt when Minette went up to check on him before she took the kids to kindergarten and grammar school, respectively.
“Oh, dear,” she said worriedly.
He grimaced. “I’m okay,” he said. “Just a little dizzy.”
She moved to the bed and touched his forehead. “You’ve got a fever.” She pulled out her cell phone and called Copper Coltrain. She filled him in on Hayes’s condition and Copper said he’d come out to the house as soon as he got his own kids to school.
“Thanks, Copper,” she said.
“All in a day’s work,” he replied. “Lou can fill in for me until I get to the office. Don’t worry about Hayes,” he added. “Sometimes we have these little setbacks. He’ll be fine. I won’t let him die.”
Minette laughed softly. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He hung up.
“No need to look so worried,” Hayes told her when she put the phone away. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“I know that. But I don’t like losing houseguests.”
He smiled through the discomfort. “I’m not dying. I’m just sick. Damn, it hurts.”
She pulled out
