She looks over at me for confirmation. I flash a smile of consent. I might be too shy to show it, but I’d do anything for Melissa. Just for all she’s done for Jenessa, I could never pay her back.
I turn to Ness. “Teeth brushed and homework before TV, okay?”
Ness nods enthusiastically.
It’s obvious from her good mood and voracious appetite that her first day of school went well.
Melissa confirms it.
“I spoke with Jenessa’s teacher today, Mrs. Tompkins. She said the children were very welcoming, especially after she explained your sister’s speech issue. She asked the children, ‘Who wants to be Jenessa’s classroom buddy?’ Every single child raised a hand.”
Ness beams from her chair.
“The class project is sign language, so they can bond with Jenessa, and she with them. Isn’t that so thoughtful of Mrs. Tompkins?”
Melissa pushes back her chair, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin before placing it on the table. She squeezes my shoulder reassuringly as she passes, and I think of here Ryan bumped my shoulder earlier.
Ness copies Melissa, dabbing her mouth with her napkin before pushing back her chair and taking Melissa’s hand. They reunite with a tail-thumping Shorty, who’s anxiously been awaiting Nessa’s arrival before the popping fireplace.
Nessa collapses onto the rug and pulls Shorty onto her lap, practically disappearing beneath the old hound. I think of Mama’s sticker on the bottom of my violin case, a swirl of black and white completing a whole circle, called “yin and yang.” That’s Nessa and Shorty.
Melissa gathers up her crochet bag, choosing colored balls of yarn for the night’s knitting.
“Five minutes with Shorty, okay, then bath, teeth, and homework,” she says.
Jenessa’s giggles are muffled by Shorty’s fur, but her hand waves in the air, giving a thumbs-up.
“Ouch. That’s unnecessary,” I say as Delaney elbows me hard.
“You didn’t think I was going to do this all by myself?”
“It was your idea,” I grumble.
With Melissa and Nessa in the other room and my father out feeding the livestock and chickens, it’s just the two of us in the too-bright kitchen.
“You bring in the dishes,” she orders. “I’ll rinse and stack.”
I glare at her, unmoving.
“Truce, okay? Just get the dishes. Or we’ll be here all night.”
I hand her plate after plate, and she rinses them under the steaming water. I watch, mesmerized, as I’ve been since the first day, by the convenience of inside faucets. She has no idea how good she has it.
“Marie said she saw you in the courtyard with Ryan today.”
I scrutinize her face, but it’s unreadable. I think of how Ryan sat next to me and the way my heart flipped over, and I almost drop a dinner plate.
“Careful with those. That’s part of a set that belonged to my great-grandmother. They’ll be mine, when I marry.”
Delaney grabs the plate from me roughly, almost dropping it herself. As always, I can feel her measuring me. Measuring me against herself.
“If I were you,” she continues, “I’d watch out for Ryan. He’s a player. And a junior. I wonder what your father would say about that.”
I think of the creek in the dead of winter—silent, rock-hard, impenetrable.
Be the creek.
I center on Melissa, who’s speaking to my sister, her words soft as a lullaby.
“We’ll have to ask Santa for crochet needles for you. Would you like to learn?”
Ness nods happily, playing with Shorty’s front toes.
“That’s your defense? You’re going to pull a Jenessa on me?” Delaney demands.
I shrug, hand her another dish. I’m not going to discuss Ryan with her. I can barely discuss him with myself. I peer out the window over the sink, the glass frosted by the cold outside and fogged by the warmth within.
Delaney reaches her finger toward the glass. I watch as she draws a large R, then a circle around it, then a slanted line through the circle.
“Just stay away from him, you hear?”
I don’t take well to people telling me what to do.
Never have, never will.
“Or what?” I demand.
What can she really do to me?
Delaney reaches into her pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper folded into squares. The blood drains from my face. I could kill her right there on the spot.
“Or this,” she says, “is going to end up taped to the walls at school.”
“That’s mine.” My voice cracks. “Give it back.”
Her eyes flash, and she begins reading to herself.
“To Whom It May Concern,
I’m writing in regards to my daughters, Carey and Jenessa Blackburn.
I removed Carey from her father’s home without his permission while she was in his legal custody.
His name is Charles Benskin, and you can find him through the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.
I have issues with methamphetamine and bipolar disorder, and can no longer care for the girls. You can find them at a camper in the woods of the Obed Wild and Scenic River National Park.
If you enter from the first scenic overlook and follow the river, you’ll find the camper in a clearing about seven miles out.
Please know I’m sorry for what I did.
Sincerely,
Joelle Blackburn