“She put them off until after Thanksgiving,” Meg said. “She feels bad enough about missing Christmas with the family.”
I took another sip of wine. “How’s Dad?” I asked.
“Dad’s fine. He’s going up to Walter Reed this week to visit some of his old battalion.”
So that was good.
After 9/11, our father had left his congregation to join up as a military chaplain. After his first fifteen-month deployment, he’d re-upped again. And again. Even after he got out of the army, he had rejected assignment to another church, instead founding a nonprofit that worked with returning veterans, helping them reintegrate into civilian life, providing counseling for PTSD.
I was so proud of his service. Even when it took him away from us.
“Mommy, down,” Daisy demanded in the background.
“Hang on, sweetie. Let Mommy wipe your hands first,” Meg said.
“Done. Down now.”
“DJ, don’t you want more apple?” Meg asked.
“He’s not hungry, Mommy.”
“Okay,” my sister said in a cheery voice. I was impressed by her patience. Not to mention her ability to conduct two conversations at once. “Let’s get you both cleaned up and—”
“Done. Done. Down.” An escalating wail.
“If you need to go...” I said.
“In a little while. DJ needs a clean shirt.” A pause. “Possibly a bath. He’s got peanut butter in hisears.”
I laughed. “I think you’re amazing,” I told my sister honestly.
“Thanks, sweetie. Some days I don’t feel so amazing. This morning when I left the house, I didn’t even put on makeup.”
I grinned. “Oh, the horror. Appearing in public without mascara? They’re going to revoke your Southern Woman card for sure.”
“So funny. I know you don’t care about stuff like that. But I do.”
“I remember.” Back in high school, borrowing clothes from each other’s closets, fixing each other’s hair for prom. Okay, sometimes Meg loaned me her clothes. She declared she wouldn’t be seen dead in mine. And after that time I singed her hair with the straightening wand, she refused to let me near her head.
“Maybe you should get John to take you out,” I suggested idly. Not that there was anyplace togoin Bunyan. Not like New York. “Like a date night.”
“Maybe. Usually we just collapse on the couch and watchThis Is Us. Well, I watch. He sleeps. He works so hard.”
“So do you,” I pointed out.
“Anyway, I’ve never left the kids with a babysitter.”
“Okay.” I took another sip of wine. But it seemed a shame my pretty, sociable sister couldn’t get dressed up and go out for one night. “I bet Momma would watch them if you asked her.”
“I can’t. She’s still having that back pain. Especially at night. And now that her legs are bothering her—”
I set down my glass. “What back pain?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
“No, she never said a word.”And neither did you.“How long has this been going on?”
“I guess... Three weeks?”
