never changed and never will.”
“You don’t even go to Mass anymore.”
“Well, look who’s talking. The point is, I could go if I wanted to. But I don’t care for all that touchy-feely stuff. I liked the way it was when I was a kid. The way God meant it to be.”
The clock on the mantel inside chimed. Her mother got up from her chair slowly, her hand on the small of her back. Holding the doorjamb for balance, she went inside and turned on the television. “Do you want to watch Ellen’s show with me?”
“I’ve got stuff to do.”
“The boy’s a big responsibility.”
“Less than you might expect. You know, Mam, I think Caro and Jacky must have been very good parents. He’s a nice boy. Beautiful manners.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“And he’s so smart. Omigod, he knows all kinds of things.”
“Your sister was smart. She could have gone to college if she’d wanted to. She must have gotten her love of travel from me. Your father wouldn’t budge from the front yard without a shove.”
“The lawyers think I should take him to Tampa. Mr. Conway thinks it would be good for both of us.”
“I couldn’t agree more. It would get you out of your own way while you’re still young enough to enjoy a change of scene. You’re timid, Robin. I never raised you to be timid.”
“It’s not a good time.”
“Nonsense. It’s a perfect time. Take a risk for once, Robin. Though God knows, Florida isn’t much of one, but it’s better than not going anywhere except Hawaii. If you don’t do it now, I promise you’ll regret it. One day you’ll have a back like mine, and then you’ll wish you’d gone out and enjoyed life.”
Chapter 11
D jango said, “Are those sandwiches for me?”
Madora literally jumped when he spoke, and the sandwiches she was taking to Linda bounced on the plate.
He had ridden his bike out to see Madora three times since his first visit. At some point during every conversation she told him to go away and not come back; but they both knew she didn’t mean it.
“Don’t do that,” she said, gasping. “Don’t ever surprise me like that.”
“Are you having a picnic?”
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have anywhere else to go?”
Actually, though his timing was bad, she was glad to see him. Until Django started showing up, Madora had not realized how lonely she was. Each time, after he left, she scolded herself for the terrible chance she was taking. A smart, curious boy, how long would it be before he asked too many questions about the trailer? Or Lindaheard his voice? Django had brought the world, framed in his quirky personality, into her narrow life. His famous parents and his woo-woo school and the exotic countries he had visited: Madora didn’t know how much of it was true, how much fantasy. Nor did she care. He was welcome entertainment.
“You going to eat those sandwiches all by yourself?”
She had made them for Linda, but Madora would rather feed Django, who at least said thank you. Since seven that morning, she had been fetching and carrying for Linda, following Willis’s instructions. For breakfast she made her scrambled eggs with toast and a thick slice of fried ham. Madora never got ham for breakfast, but Willis said that after giving birth a girl needed lots of protein to help her regain her strength. Besides breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he also wanted Madora to make her a midafternoon snack. Madora was back and forth to the trailer all day: dusting, sweeping, emptying the portable toilet, even washing Linda, who seemed to have no natural instinct for cleanliness and needed to be coaxed into brushing her teeth and splashing water on herself.
She asked, “Do you like bologna?”
“I don’t know.” Django peered at the sandwiches on the plate. “What’s it taste like?”
Madora wondered how anyone in America could grow up without eating bologna; but Django was strange in many ways. She liked that about him. He used words she’d
“You don’t even go to Mass anymore.”
“Well, look who’s talking. The point is, I could go if I wanted to. But I don’t care for all that touchy-feely stuff. I liked the way it was when I was a kid. The way God meant it to be.”
The clock on the mantel inside chimed. Her mother got up from her chair slowly, her hand on the small of her back. Holding the doorjamb for balance, she went inside and turned on the television. “Do you want to watch Ellen’s show with me?”
“I’ve got stuff to do.”
“The boy’s a big responsibility.”
“Less than you might expect. You know, Mam, I think Caro and Jacky must have been very good parents. He’s a nice boy. Beautiful manners.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“And he’s so smart. Omigod, he knows all kinds of things.”
“Your sister was smart. She could have gone to college if she’d wanted to. She must have gotten her love of travel from me. Your father wouldn’t budge from the front yard without a shove.”
“The lawyers think I should take him to Tampa. Mr. Conway thinks it would be good for both of us.”
“I couldn’t agree more. It would get you out of your own way while you’re still young enough to enjoy a change of scene. You’re timid, Robin. I never raised you to be timid.”
“It’s not a good time.”
“Nonsense. It’s a perfect time. Take a risk for once, Robin. Though God knows, Florida isn’t much of one, but it’s better than not going anywhere except Hawaii. If you don’t do it now, I promise you’ll regret it. One day you’ll have a back like mine, and then you’ll wish you’d gone out and enjoyed life.”
Chapter 11
D jango said, “Are those sandwiches for me?”
Madora literally jumped when he spoke, and the sandwiches she was taking to Linda bounced on the plate.
He had ridden his bike out to see Madora three times since his first visit. At some point during every conversation she told him to go away and not come back; but they both knew she didn’t mean it.
“Don’t do that,” she said, gasping. “Don’t ever surprise me like that.”
“Are you having a picnic?”
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have anywhere else to go?”
Actually, though his timing was bad, she was glad to see him. Until Django started showing up, Madora had not realized how lonely she was. Each time, after he left, she scolded herself for the terrible chance she was taking. A smart, curious boy, how long would it be before he asked too many questions about the trailer? Or Lindaheard his voice? Django had brought the world, framed in his quirky personality, into her narrow life. His famous parents and his woo-woo school and the exotic countries he had visited: Madora didn’t know how much of it was true, how much fantasy. Nor did she care. He was welcome entertainment.
“You going to eat those sandwiches all by yourself?”
She had made them for Linda, but Madora would rather feed Django, who at least said thank you. Since seven that morning, she had been fetching and carrying for Linda, following Willis’s instructions. For breakfast she made her scrambled eggs with toast and a thick slice of fried ham. Madora never got ham for breakfast, but Willis said that after giving birth a girl needed lots of protein to help her regain her strength. Besides breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he also wanted Madora to make her a midafternoon snack. Madora was back and forth to the trailer all day: dusting, sweeping, emptying the portable toilet, even washing Linda, who seemed to have no natural instinct for cleanliness and needed to be coaxed into brushing her teeth and splashing water on herself.
She asked, “Do you like bologna?”
“I don’t know.” Django peered at the sandwiches on the plate. “What’s it taste like?”
Madora wondered how anyone in America could grow up without eating bologna; but Django was strange in many ways. She liked that about him. He used words she’d
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