Mr. Roberts seemed like a nice enough man, but I got the impression from some of the things the twins had said at teen worship that he was ill-equipped to handle the ins and outs of running a household alone.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll appreciate a home-cooked meal, then.”
“Yes. Why don’t you make your chicken and dumplings? I set the chicken out to thaw.”
I tilted my head. “You wantmeto cook?” That was a first. My mother always prepared the meals when we had guests over.
Mama paused her polishing of the furniture to look over at me.
“You’re an adult, now. Not to mention a mom. I think you should.”
I looked at her dubiously but didn’t argue as I scrubbed a stubborn spot on the wooden armrest. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, I just didn’t know what.
I’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Four
Jessica
I’d put Ruth in her bouncy chair and placed it on the table when I started to make dinner. Mama walked in as I floured the counter to roll out the dough for dumplings.
“There’s my sweet granddaughter!” she exclaimed with an expressive smile and pulled the baby from her seat.
It was one of the rare times my mother smiled anymore.
I recalled how fun Mama used to be. How she’d play in the sprinklers with me and my four siblings in the summer, or take us to the lake, or on picnics. It seemed like there had always been laughter and a flutter of activity in our house during my childhood.
She’d been lighter back then.
But maybe that was just because I was the baby of the family and everyone had always shielded me from anything bad that was happening.
The first time I ever witnessed conflict in my family was when I was in tenth grade and Mary left the church her sophomore year in college, and was therefore, “cast out,” as Pastor Crowley had called it.
I knew what it meant; I’d seen it in fourth grade when Miriam Thornridge and Caleb Trent had committed adultery—although I hadn’t fully understood what that signified at the time. I was just told we were supposed to act like they no longer existed. A hard thing to do in a small town, especially when you run into one of them at the grocery store.
And God bless my mother—when we saw Miriam at J and J, the local grocery store, a few months later, Mama had grabbed her hands and asked how she was, which brought tears to the other woman’s eyes. I’d realized in that moment how much alittle kindness could mean to someone—kind of like how Lainey and Jade had made me feel earlier.
Although, on the way home from J and J, Mama had told me not to tell Papa we’d seen Miriam.
I didn’t question it and just did what I’d been told.
The day Mary was excommunicated, my mother wept silently in the pew while my father sat stoically with his jaw clenched tight. All of my brothers were married and attending their own churches, so it’d just been the three of us.
We never spoke about my sister again.
Come to think of it, that was probably when Mama started to become bitter.
Then four years later, I brought shame on the family again by getting knocked up out of wedlock. I’d earned my parents’ ire and accepted my punishment. Now, I was trying to get back in their good graces.
I wasn’t sure how my parents would feel about me getting a job, but I decided to broach the topic with Mama first.
As I used a rolling pin on the dough, I tried to sound nonchalant when I said, “So, when I applied at the bakery today”—then glanced up to make sure she was listening—“they offered me a job working in the kitchen. I could start work as soon as tomorrow.”
She furrowed her brows.
“What about Ruthie? She isn’t taking a bottle yet. Do you have someone lined up who’s willing to watch an unweaned infant?”
“The bakery’s owner said I could bring her with me. She has a crib in her office for when she brings her son in. She said it’s no problem to breastfeed Ruthie as I need to.”
