Dead for the Money by Peg Herring

parted and Jeannie’s voice would come to her, telling her she had ruined everything.
    Stupid! Ugly! Weird!
    Scarlet said that the brain cannot recreate feelings of the past, which was usually a good thing. “Who could carry on if the emotions of each hurt remained as clear afterward as when they happened?” she asked, and Brodie had to agree that it would be impossible.
    Gramps had rescued Brodie. It was hard to forget Jeannie and her constant abuse, but affection, security, and time had helped. Brodie wondered if this new tragedy would break her, erase all the progress she had made in the last ten years. She hoped that Scarlet was right, that her brain would learn to forget, and she would not have to live with this crushing grief forever.
    A memory arose of the first time she had ever seen Gramps. He had knocked at the door of their apartment. She never knew how he had found them, how he knew of her existence and the life she endured. But when he saw Brodie, wrapped in her filthy quilt, he had acted swiftly. Before Jeannie could react, William swept the child up in his arms, announcing that he intended to take her home with him.
    Brodie didn’t remember exactly what was said. Jeannie—she had never been taught to call her Mother—screamed obscenities, which was nothing new. What was new were the strong arms that enfolded her, the soothing voice that told her it was going to be all right. She reacted in the only way she knew to this strange man’s attention—she bit him.
    Instead of swearing, Gramps soothed her, petting her matted hair and speaking softly. She didn’t remember the words, only a feeling she had never experienced before, the feeling that someone actually cared what happened to her.
    It scared her to death. And it had continued to be scary for years, though she had gotten used to most of it. She believed Gramps loved her, despite her oddness. She had even come to understand that there were people in the world who were all right, who could be trusted. But it had not been easy.
    From determined spying efforts, Brodie learned later that for the first few months Gramps fought a multi-faceted war. Jeannie, sensing that he would do anything to keep the child she never wanted, threw all her resources—not much intelligence but lots of craft—into getting every cent she could from the wealthy William C. Dunbar. Shelley and Briggs often discussed Jeannie, their voices disapproving years later as they rehashed what the mother had done—and not done—to her own child. Gramps dealt with Brodie’s mom brusquely but fairly, and in the end, Jeannie relinquished custody of her daughter for a sum of money she had, in Shelley’s opinion, never imagined he would agree to.
    There had been problems at home too. Arlis wanted proof Brodie was related to the Dunbars. She objected strongly to Will’s taking in a “damaged child” without DNA testing. It was true that Brodie did not look like the Dunbars, who were attractive people with light hair and normal-shaped eyes. Brodie had dark, round eyes and wiry black hair. It must have been hard for Gramps to argue that she belonged. He refused to discuss Arlis’ objections, however, insisting that he felt a bond and did not need DNA to prove it. Shelley approved of his stance, and Briggs approved of whatever Shelley approved.
    Now that Gramps was gone and she had to face life without him, Brodie admitted she was the biggest problem William Dunbar ever faced. Like a wild thing, she had at first refused any sort of affection, instruction, or civilization. Until she was almost ten, it took two people to make her presentable: one to hold her, one to de-snarl the mass of curls. If Gramps was at home, he would be the holder and Brodie would allow the current caregiver to perform the torturous process. A succession of women came and went, and some made it through a year before her tantrums, language, and stubbornness drove them off.
    She had eventually succumbed to most of