“Damn!” Hank’s hands were shaking. “Can’t you pry it out?”
“What a good idea. Get me a crowbar, will you? Then we’ll just cram it up her nose. Babies and jammed doors are so much alike.”
Hank swore under his breath.
Margaret tried to think, but she realized that they were both just standing there—two adults—staring at a screaming toddler and neither one of them having any idea what they should do.
“Just hold her while I think for a minute.” Margaret stood back and began to catalog details, to analyze the situation.
Hank picked up the baby and held her out in front of him, staring at her nose and her teary face. He set her back down on the trunk, and they just eyed each other. He brought his finger up to wipe a gnat from her tear-streaked cheek, and she started crying again. Louder.
He stared at the baby with the same look the judge had given Margaret her first day in court.
A second later Lydia and Theodore came through the door. They looked at the baby. Lydia picked up a piece of fruit. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Annabelle has the pearl stuck up her nose,” Margaret told her.
“Oh.” Lydia casually peeled the banana. “She does that all the time.”
Hank’s jaw jutted out like a mule, and he bellowed, “She sticks pearls up her nose?”
“Peas,” Theodore said matter-of-factly.
Hank swore three choice words, which Annabelle repeated in a sodden voice.
“Once she put a rock up there,” Lydia said with her mouth full.
“An’ that Indian-head penny, too. Remember, Leedee?”
“How did they come out?” Margaret stared at the baby. Annabelle sat in the middle of the trunk, quietly sucking on her fingers, tears streaking her pink face. She eyed them suspiciously.
“Mama always made her sneeze.”
“Sneeze?” Margaret nodded, tapping a finger against her lips. “Yes, sneezing would do it.”
Hank picked the baby up so fast even Margaret was stunned.
“What are you going to do?”
“Watch.” He sat down on the mats with the baby. He set her in his lap, her back to him, and he held her feet in his big palms. “Where’s your nose, kid?”
“Nose.” Annabelle pointed to her nose.
“That’s right. So... where’re your knees, kid?”
“Kneez...” She wrinkled her face up and blew out her nose—one side of her nose.
“That’s a good girl.” He looked up at Margaret and mouthed, “Watch.”
She nodded.
“Knees?” Hank asked again and gently slid his hand near her mouth.
“Kneez!” Annabelle’s face puckered up.
Hank slid his hand over her mouth.
She blew a big breath out her nose.
