Necessary Lies by Diane Chamberlain Page A

to talk to you.” To me she said, “He’s good but sometimes he’s a mite ornery.”
    I nodded with a smile.
    Ivy caught the little boy by the shoulder and prodded him in Charlotte’s direction.
    “Look what I have for you, William,” Charlotte said, holding the red plastic-wrapped lollipop toward him.
    William grinned at the sight of the candy. He had a bobbing little walk as he approached her. He was the cutest child I’d ever seen. His hair was thick and dark and curly, shiny as silk. His skin was definitely darker than Ivy’s, but I never would have guessed he had Negro blood just from looking at him.
    As she’d done with Rodney Jordan, Charlotte held the lollipop out of his reach. “What is this, William?” she asked.
    He looked back at Ivy. “It’s a lollipop,” Ivy said.
    “Let him answer, dear,” Charlotte said.
    “He won’t,” she said. “He still don’t talk.”
    “What color is this lollipop, William?” Charlotte asked.
    William stuck out his lower lip and I knew he was going to cry any second. Seeing the tears welling up in his eyes made me want to rip the lollipop from Charlotte’s hand and give it to him. I was relieved when she unwrapped the candy and handed it to him. “Don’t run with it,” she said. “You sit right here to eat it.”
    Charlotte looked up at Ivy, who stood a few feet away from me, her arms locked behind her back. “Does he have any words at all?” she asked.
    “He says ‘mama’ to Mary Ella. And he calls me ‘Ibie’ sometimes, and he sort of says ‘Nonnie.’ He’s real happy, though. And he’s good, most of the time. Sometimes he gets flustrated and lets out a wail, but mostly he’s quiet.”
    “Uh-huh,” Charlotte said. I could tell she wasn’t happy with the answers.
    “Nonnie said her brother didn’t talk till he was five and then he didn’t never shut up,” Ivy added.
    “Uh-huh,” Charlotte said as she lifted up the edge of William’s dirty white shirt. “How long has he had this rash, Ivy?” she asked.
    “What rash?”
    “Here.” Charlotte held up his shirt and Ivy peered at William’s side before he started fussing and pushed their hands away.
    “That must of just happened,” Ivy said. “Ain’t seen it before. Diaper rash, maybe?”
    “Not on his back,” Charlotte said. “Maybe we can get you something to put on that.”
    “That’d be good,” Ivy said, but her eyes were on the bags. “Did you bring us something?” she asked.
    “I have some clothes for you and Mary Ella and William,” Charlotte said.
    I heard a twig snap in the woods and Ivy turned and took a few steps toward the path. “Nonnie!” she called. “Mrs. Werkman and another lady are here!”
    Charlotte got to her feet, dusting off the back of her slacks as a woman emerged from the trees, leaning heavily on a cane. Charlotte leaned over and whispered to me, “It’s important to talk to the parent or guardian alone. She needs to feel free to say whatever’s going on with the children.”
    “Hello, hello!” The woman smiled at us, though it must have taken some effort because she was obviously in pain. She was overweight and missing a couple of her bottom teeth. You could tell by looking at her that she was overwhelmed by her life, and I felt sorry for her. “Good seein’ you, Mrs. Werkman,” she said. “Who’s this?”
    “Ivy,” Charlotte said, “why don’t you take the bags in the house and look through them while we chat with your grandmother.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Ivy picked up the bags, one in each arm, and called to William to follow her into the house.
    “You brung them some clothes?” the grandmother asked.
    “Yes. Not sure they’ll fit. I believe Ivy’s grown quite a bit just in the few weeks since I was here last.”
    “They all growin’ like weeds,” the woman said. She was eyeing me the same way Ivy had a few minutes earlier. She tucked a strand of her thin gray hair behind her ear. “So tell me who’s this child?”