Ruby watches me with serious concentration.
“All done?” she asks.
“Almost, kiddo,” I say, sliding the knife aside and turning my attention to the vegetables. I spear a green bean, then another, then a third and set them near the beef and do the same with the cabbage, ignoring the way my stomach rolls at the smell. I hated cabbage as a kid. Still not my favorite.
Ruby wrinkles her nose. “What’s that?”
“Green beans and cabbage.”
“I don’t like those.”
Pop’s fork pauses midair. Momma smiles to herself, pretending not to listen while absolutely listening.
I keep my voice calm. “You haven’t tried ’em yet.”
She peers at the cabbage like it might bite her. “It’s yucky, green, and squishy.”
“It is a little squishy,” I agree. “But it’s good for you. Has all the good stuff in it to make you grow big and strong.”
“I like being little,” she says.
Pop snorts and then grabs his glass of water and takes a big gulp. “You don’t wanna be little forever, do you?”
She nods enthusiastically, and I have to hide my chuckle.
“Okay. Here’s the deal. You try three bites of each of the green beans and cabbage. If you do it without complaining, you can have dessert,” I say.
Her eyes flick up. “Dessert?”
Momma smiles softly. “I made a homemade apple pie. People say it’s the best in the county.”
Ruby’s mouth forms a small O. “With ice cream?”
“If you eat your dinner and try everything, like your daddy asked,” Momma says.
Ruby considers this, gaze bouncing between me and her plate. “Three bites?”
“Three,” I say. “You’ll never know what you do or don’t like if you don’t taste everything.”
Pop leans forward. “He’s right, you know. I thought I didn’t like sweet potatoes until I tried them. Now they’re my favorite.”
“Potatoes aren’t sweet, silly,” Ruby says.
“That’s just what you call orange and purple potatoes,” I tell her.
Her eyes go wide. “There are orange and purple ones?”
“There are indeed. In fact, I have some growing in my garden. You can help me dig some up and make them for supper tomorrow … if you eat your green beans and cabbage,” Momma offers.
My heart sinks. She’s had very little variety in her short life. We’ve lived on takeout and cheap snacks the past few months, and God only knows what she survived on before that. Her little body is finally gonna get the nourishment it needs here with Priscilla Ludlow in charge of meals.
Ruby stabs a green bean and brings it to her lips like she’s preparing for battle. She pops it into her mouth and chews, slow and deliberate.
“One,” she announces.
“Good job,” Momma praises.
She eats two more, making faces, but not whining. Then she turns to the cabbage, hesitates, and finally takes a bite.
