this.”
“Oh butterball. You have a bad feeling about everything.”
Molly hesitated in front of Donny’s door, her heart heavy. Popping a lemon drop in her mouth to soothe her scratchy throat, she braced herself with a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in.” His muffled voice sounded a mile away.
He lay faceup on the bed where she’d left him hours earlier. He didn’t even bother to look at her when she entered the room. Instead he continued to stare at the ceiling, his face bathed in the yellow light of the kerosene lamp.
“Are you still angry with me?”
Donny said nothing and the silence was like a wall between them.
She sat on the edge of the bed and the springs squeaked beneath her weight. It hurt to stand but it even hurt to sit, and she rubbed her back. Never had she worked as hard as she had these last two weeks. She longed to collapse in bed but not before making peace with her brother.
Donny turned his head, his eyes dull as tarnished copper. “Why won’t you let the doctor help me?”
She inhaled. “Donny, you mean the world to me. If I lost you . . .” Nightmares of the fire continued to plague her. In her dreams she hadn’t been able to reach him and she continued to wake every night in a cold sweat. “Dr. Fairbanks had no right to jeopardize your safety.”
“He looks at me like a real person.”
“You are a real person.”
“Then stop looking at me like I’m some poor helpless child!”
She withered beneath his hostile look. “That’s not how I think of you. It’s not, Donny. Honest.”
He stared at her but said nothing, and suddenly he didn’t look like the boy she’d known so well—the boy she loved and cared for. Instead he looked like a stranger.
She’d noticed the physical changes—the chin stubble. The way his trousers barely reached midcalf. Then there was all that voicecracking as he changed from tenor to baritone. She had become an expert at averting her eyes when she dressed him, looking away at just the right moment when he bathed. But this went far beyond bodily changes. It was as if he was about to cross some invisible line and leave her behind.
“You’re smart and bright . . .” She reached for a dog-eared journal. “You have to be to understand this.” Donny enjoyed reading his science magazines aloud and explaining the technical terms to her. “Read to me.”
“I don’t want to read.”
“Then I’ll read to you.” She flipped through the pages. “’It has long been imagined that the phenomenon of comet’s tails is in some way due to a solar electrical repulsion.’” She looked up. “This makes my head want to explode.”
“It’s better than those sappy dime novels you read.” He hugged himself and made a loud kissing sound to imitate a lurid cover.
“They’re not sappy . . . Besides,” she added with more than a little regret, “I’m too busy to read.” The key to their future was the ranch. She could no longer waste time reading about true love. Such things existed only in books.
She tossed the journal on the bedside table and turned off the lamp.
“Molly.”
“Yes?”
“When Dr. Fairbanks pushed me around the courtyard, it felt like I had legs.”
She gripped the door handle and tried to breathe. The doctor had no right to interfere and had only made things worse. When she was only ten, a wealthy woman had invited her and the other miners’ children to a grand house for Christmas dinner. Molly had never known people lived in such luxury, and the experience made it harder than ever to go back to the tent she called home. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.
“Good night,” she whispered.
Chapter 11
I t was a hot Sunday morning but a slight breeze made the heat bearable and kept the flies away. Nearly three weeks had passed since Molly and Donny had arrived at the ranch, and it was hard to believe it was the middle of June already. Brodie said that July was the beginning of monsoon season, marked by high
“Oh butterball. You have a bad feeling about everything.”
Molly hesitated in front of Donny’s door, her heart heavy. Popping a lemon drop in her mouth to soothe her scratchy throat, she braced herself with a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in.” His muffled voice sounded a mile away.
He lay faceup on the bed where she’d left him hours earlier. He didn’t even bother to look at her when she entered the room. Instead he continued to stare at the ceiling, his face bathed in the yellow light of the kerosene lamp.
“Are you still angry with me?”
Donny said nothing and the silence was like a wall between them.
She sat on the edge of the bed and the springs squeaked beneath her weight. It hurt to stand but it even hurt to sit, and she rubbed her back. Never had she worked as hard as she had these last two weeks. She longed to collapse in bed but not before making peace with her brother.
Donny turned his head, his eyes dull as tarnished copper. “Why won’t you let the doctor help me?”
She inhaled. “Donny, you mean the world to me. If I lost you . . .” Nightmares of the fire continued to plague her. In her dreams she hadn’t been able to reach him and she continued to wake every night in a cold sweat. “Dr. Fairbanks had no right to jeopardize your safety.”
“He looks at me like a real person.”
“You are a real person.”
“Then stop looking at me like I’m some poor helpless child!”
She withered beneath his hostile look. “That’s not how I think of you. It’s not, Donny. Honest.”
He stared at her but said nothing, and suddenly he didn’t look like the boy she’d known so well—the boy she loved and cared for. Instead he looked like a stranger.
She’d noticed the physical changes—the chin stubble. The way his trousers barely reached midcalf. Then there was all that voicecracking as he changed from tenor to baritone. She had become an expert at averting her eyes when she dressed him, looking away at just the right moment when he bathed. But this went far beyond bodily changes. It was as if he was about to cross some invisible line and leave her behind.
“You’re smart and bright . . .” She reached for a dog-eared journal. “You have to be to understand this.” Donny enjoyed reading his science magazines aloud and explaining the technical terms to her. “Read to me.”
“I don’t want to read.”
“Then I’ll read to you.” She flipped through the pages. “’It has long been imagined that the phenomenon of comet’s tails is in some way due to a solar electrical repulsion.’” She looked up. “This makes my head want to explode.”
“It’s better than those sappy dime novels you read.” He hugged himself and made a loud kissing sound to imitate a lurid cover.
“They’re not sappy . . . Besides,” she added with more than a little regret, “I’m too busy to read.” The key to their future was the ranch. She could no longer waste time reading about true love. Such things existed only in books.
She tossed the journal on the bedside table and turned off the lamp.
“Molly.”
“Yes?”
“When Dr. Fairbanks pushed me around the courtyard, it felt like I had legs.”
She gripped the door handle and tried to breathe. The doctor had no right to interfere and had only made things worse. When she was only ten, a wealthy woman had invited her and the other miners’ children to a grand house for Christmas dinner. Molly had never known people lived in such luxury, and the experience made it harder than ever to go back to the tent she called home. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.
“Good night,” she whispered.
Chapter 11
I t was a hot Sunday morning but a slight breeze made the heat bearable and kept the flies away. Nearly three weeks had passed since Molly and Donny had arrived at the ranch, and it was hard to believe it was the middle of June already. Brodie said that July was the beginning of monsoon season, marked by high
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