“Do you know why?”
She shrugged. “Not really. Papa has tried to teach him to swim, but George just freezes up in the water. And that makes him sink like a stone. He’s hopeless.”
“I’m guessing you’re a good swimmer.” Meredith studied Kat’s sturdy build. “You’re probably good at a lot of sports.”
“I am.” She stood taller. “Not George though. He’s such a baby. And a coward.”
“Have you always been like that with him? At odds I mean?”
Kat’s brow creased. “We used to get along okay. He used to do what I told him to do. But lately he’s turned into such a brat that I can’t stand him.”
“That’s sad. I always wished I had a brother or sister.”
“But you don’t?”
“Nope. It was just Dad and me when I was growing up. Well, I mean, after my mom died.”
“Your mom died?” Kat shot her a sideways glance as they walked past a fragrant bed of blooming roses.
“Yeah. When I was ten. How old were you when you lost your mother?”
“Eight.”
“About the same age as Mishka is now.”
“George,” Kat said sharply.
“You don’t like that I call him Mishka?”
Kat shrugged with a scowl. “It’s a silly baby name, but I don’t care.”
Meredith did the mental math. “Mishka must’ve been young when your mother died. About three?”
Another shrug.
“Were you on good terms with your little brother then?”
Her countenance softened slightly. “He was a baby, so of course I took care of him. Papa said it was my job as the big sister.”
“I bet Mishka appreciated that. You were like a little mother.”
“I guess… But he was a lot nicer then. Now he’s an abominable brat.”
“Do you think he’s outgrown your mothering him?”
“I don’t know.” Kat stopped next to the swimming pool now. With arms crossed in front of her, she kicked a soccer ball with vengeance.
Meredith jumped to avoid the splash. “Maybe he wants to grow up now.”
“Nobody’s stopping him.”
“No, of course not. But maybe it’s hard making this transition—to go from him being the baby who needed you to being independent. He probably respected and minded you, like you were a parent. Maybe he sees you more like a sister now.”
“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?” She glared at Meredith.
“I’m just saying Mishka may need more autonomy and independence now.” Meredith pointed to Kat. “Like you have. You seem quite independent and strong, closer to adulthood than childhood. You’re your own person. Maybe Mishka wants to be more like you, but it’s not easy.”
“Maybe.” Kat’s pale eyebrows drew together. “What are you anyway? Some kind of child therapist?”
