Page 14 of Jury Woman, Part 4 of 6

I bent over the rose-colored gloves so no one would see my face. For the first time all day, I was smiling.

October 14, Wednesday

LILY APPEARED alone, cross-legged on her bed with a pile of laundry behind her that I suspected was clean but had never made it into a drawer. She'd pulled her hair into a messy bun and had a highlighter tucked behind one ear.

"Hi sweetheart. Are you excited about the Homecoming dance?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Tell me about your dress."

"It's pink, with a little matching fur jacket."

"Sounds beautiful."

She shrugged again. "It's okay. Everything had kind of been picked over. And it needs to be taken up in the waist, but no one knows how to do that except you."

"I'm sure you'll look gorgeous," I said. "Be sure to take pictures."

"We will."

"Where's your brother?"

"He won't come out of his room," she said. "I knocked twice. He just turned his music up."

"Should I be worried about him?"

She pulled the highlighter from behind her ear and clicked the cap on and off. "Why is it always Josh? Why aren't you ever worried about me?"

The question caught me off guard. There was no anger behind it, just something very raw.

"Because I know you can handle a lot," I said carefully. "More than you think you can. You always have."

She didn't answer right away. The highlighter went still in her fingers.

"I kind of hate Heidi," she said quietly.

A dozen replies lined up on my tongue, most of them uncharitable. I bit down on every one.

"I understand why you'd feel that way," I said. "It's a lot, having someone new in the house. But your dad deserves to have his own life, sweetheart. Even if it's not the life you'd pick for him."

"That's not even the worst part." Lily drew her knees up to her chest. "Josh stays in his room because the house is awful, Mom. Nothing works. The garbage disposal's been broken for a week. There's never any food unless somebody orders it, and then it's gone in ten minutes. It's everybody for themselves."

I pictured my kitchen, the pantry I used to keep stocked down to the last box of granola bars, the list on the fridge where anyone could write out of milk. I wondered whether anyone still used that list, or whether it had been thrown out with the chore chart.

"Then you need to step up," I said. "You're the big sister. Look out for Josh. And tell your dad what the two of you need."

Lily's face twisted. "Shouldn't he just know what we need? He's our dad."

The words went through me like cold water.

It was the very question I'd written in my journal two nights ago, almost to the letter. If someone loves me enough, they should just know. And here it was, coming out of my daughter's mouth. Had she learned it from me? From years of watching me wait for Warren to notice, and seethe quietly when he didn't?

"No," I said. It came out firmer than I'd intended. "He shouldn't have to guess, honey. And you shouldn't have to wait for him to figure it out. Your dad has a lot on his plate right now. The best thing you and Josh can do is make a list. Everything you need, from groceries to getting the disposal fixed to help with your chemistry homework. Write it down and hand it to him."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's so weird."

"Maybe. Try it anyway."