Birdelia nodded. “Mama say he went there before I was born, and no one ever seen him since.”
Ibby felt sorry for Birdelia, never having met her father. “Your daddy, I know he loves you, in his own way.”
“Yeah. That’s what Mama say, too.” Birdelia looked Ibby in the eye. “Your daddy, even though he’s up there now”—Birdelia pointed up to the sky—“he’ll always be with you as long as he’s in here.” She took Ibby’s hand and placed it over her heart. “Every time you want to be with your daddy, that’s all you got to do.”
“Birdelia! I told you not to leave the sewing room. You not supposed to be in here.” Doll stood by the door, tapping her foot.
Birdelia stood up and pointed at Ibby. “She in here.”
“Don’t you give your mama no sass. That’s different, and you know it. Now, tell me, Birdelia Trout. What kind of stories you been telling Miss Ibby?” She squinted at Birdelia.
“Nothing, Mama. We just talking.”
“Miss Ibby, don’t believe a thing Birdelia tells you,” Doll huffed.
The truth was, Birdelia’s story had intrigued her. Ibby took a sort of newfound comfort in knowing that her daddy would always be with her, in her heart. She smiled to herself.
“Miss Ibby, you listening to me?” Doll asked.
Ibby looked up at her, realizing she had been lost in her own thoughts.
“Why don’t you go on up and get dressed? Queenie got some biscuits and grits waiting for you in the kitchen. Miss Fannie’s already taken her breakfast, so don’t go disturbing her. She busy picking her horses before Mr. Henry gets here. Birdelia can keep you company today. Now, come on, Birdelia.” Doll took her daughter by the hand and led her out of the room.
When Ibby got downstairs, Birdelia was sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of biscuits in front of her. She took a big swig of milk and smiled at Ibby.
“I see you two have met.” Queenie wiped her hands on her apron.
Crow opened the back door and came in with a big box. “Here’s the cake you asked me to pick up from the bakery. What you making today? Smells mighty fine.” Crow moved things around in the icebox to make room for the cake.
Queenie stirred the pot. “Gumbo. Mr. Pierce gave me some extra shrimp to put in. I’ll save some for you. Knows how much you like gumbo.”
“Morning, Poppy,” Birdelia said through a mouthful of biscuit.
“Birdelia, child, you know better than to talk with your mouth full.” Queenie tapped the spoon on the side of the pot and placed it on the counter. “Now listen, young ladies, soon as Mr. Henry gets here, stay out of the way, understand?”
Crow rubbed the side of his face nervously, then whispered to Queenie, “Maybe they should stay in the backyard and not go wandering around the neighborhood after the president’s announcement yesterday. The mayor called for peace, and as far as I know, there ain’t been no trouble, but best be safe.”
Queenie nodded, then looked at the two girls. “Poppy is right. You two stay in the backyard today. Don’t go wandering off nowhere, you hear?”
“But Mee-maw, what we gonna do in the backyard?” Birdelia whined. “You said we could go over to Plum Street and get a snowball.”
Crow shook his head and headed out the back door. “You women never listen to me anyway. Don’t know why I waste my breath.”
“Please?” Birdelia clasped her hands and smiled.
“Oh, all right,” Queenie said after Crow was out of earshot. “But if you run into any trouble, you come on back home, you hear me?” Queenie squinted at Birdelia. “No trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am, I promise.” Birdelia jumped from the stool.
Queenie reached into the cookie jar and placed four dimes and two quarters in front of them. “No trouble,” she repeated, and pointed at Birdelia.
Birdelia grabbed the money and stuck it into her pocket. “Well, come on, Miss Ibby.”
As they walked up the street, a throng of uniformed maids passed them, heading for the Bell household to place their bets. As they got farther up the block, Ibby hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Birdelia asked.
Annabelle Friedrichs was sitting on the wooden swing hanging from the tree in her front yard, her back toward them.
“Let’s cross the street,” Ibby said.
“What for?”
“See the girl in the swing? That’s Annabelle.”
“Yeah, so?” Birdelia put her hand on her hip.
“She’s the one that gave me this black eye.” Ibby pointed at her face.
“Then we gonna walk right on past her. Don’t do nothing until I give you the signal. She’s behind a fence—what she gone do?”
Ibby thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”
“She say anything to you, don’t say nothing back. Understand? She wants to get under your skin—just act like you don’t care. Now follow me.” Birdelia started walking real slow, swinging her arms and whistling as if she didn’t have a care in the world.