her hand. "Of course I do! I've waited a long
time for you to make your debut. We are going to fix you up to look
gorgeous."
Phillip snorted as if to say "Good luck with
that," but to his credit kept his mouth shut.
Chapter 12
A Brand New Brinn
The rambling farmhouse needed paint but it
held an air of hominess that made Brinn feel welcomed. She’d only
been inside a few times, and always when Mr. and Mrs. McMurray were
out, but she basked in the smell of baked bread that permeated the
kitchen as if it were part of the flowered wallpaper. The décor was
simple, the furniture slightly dulled by years of use, but
beautiful all the same.
The family pictures that lined the stairway
showed generations of McMurrays and Frasers with features that
closely matched Abby in both coloring and bone structure. Brinn
stared in awe, taking the stairs one at a time and pausing to study
the portraits.
“ That’s my great grandma. I
was named after her.” Abby gestured to an aged photo of a young
woman on horseback wearing a long skirt and high-necked
blouse.
Hung in neat rows and columns, the pictures
were evidence of a history that seemed unfathomable. What must it
be like to be a part of a family, to know all your relatives, and
to experience the connection of blood that flows through the roots
of an extensive family tree? She remembered having grandparents
when she was very small—her mother’s parents at least. They lived
far away in another country. She’d only met them a few times and
they spoke a strange language she hadn’t understood. She couldn’t
remember her father’s parents at all. The only family she ever
really knew was her mother and father. And they were dead.
“ Where are your parents?”
Brinn asked, pushing away the memories.
“ Since I started school,
Mom and Dad have taken up golf. I don’t see the fun in chasing a
little ball and trying to whack it into a hole, but they’re
obsessed,” she giggled, leading Brinn down a hallway and into the
bathroom that adjoined a spacious bedroom, decorated in pinks and
creamy chiffon. “With my parents gone, we’ll have free rein to play
with your hair, makeup, and wardrobe.” Abby looked expectantly at
Brinn. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Phillip hadn’t objected, but didn't look at
all pleased to leave the girls alone for the rest of the day. He
agreed to pick them up at 6:30 that evening to take them for a
night out on the town.
Brinn sank into a large claw-foot tub up to
her ears in hot, soapy, water. It felt wonderful—nothing like the
icy streams where she normally bathed. Abby sat on a low stool next
to the tub, painstakingly combing knots and burrs out of Brinn’s
hair with short, harsh jerks.
"Ouch!" Brinn repeated for the thousandth
time.
"Don't squirm! It wouldn't get so awful if
you would learn to use the hairbrush I gave you."
Brinn scowled at her friend, wincing as
another snarl broke free. "I use it for scrubbing dirt off of roots
and scales off of fish. I thought it best not to use it on my
hair."
Abby grinned. "Well, I see your point."
Continuing her task with a bit more mercy—finally conceding to
cutting a few particularly stubborn tangles out with scissors—she
peered over Brinn's shoulder. "Do you think Phillip is handsome? I
mean, do you like the way he looks?"
Brinn thought for a moment as she blew
bubbles out of her hand. "I guess so. I can see you like him very
much." She smiled at her friend, whose eyes lit and voice softened
when she spoke his name.
"Oh, I’m soooo in love with him. That’s why
I'm going to marry him. He’s totally cute and he’s a hard worker.
He's going to be rich and successful. I think he’ll make a good
husband and father, too. He wants tons of kids. So do I." Abby
gushed on about her plans with Phillip, stopping only when Brinn's
silence and withdrawal became apparent.
Her head was barely above the water, her eyes
and nose set on the surface like a blue-eyed sea monster ready
time for you to make your debut. We are going to fix you up to look
gorgeous."
Phillip snorted as if to say "Good luck with
that," but to his credit kept his mouth shut.
Chapter 12
A Brand New Brinn
The rambling farmhouse needed paint but it
held an air of hominess that made Brinn feel welcomed. She’d only
been inside a few times, and always when Mr. and Mrs. McMurray were
out, but she basked in the smell of baked bread that permeated the
kitchen as if it were part of the flowered wallpaper. The décor was
simple, the furniture slightly dulled by years of use, but
beautiful all the same.
The family pictures that lined the stairway
showed generations of McMurrays and Frasers with features that
closely matched Abby in both coloring and bone structure. Brinn
stared in awe, taking the stairs one at a time and pausing to study
the portraits.
“ That’s my great grandma. I
was named after her.” Abby gestured to an aged photo of a young
woman on horseback wearing a long skirt and high-necked
blouse.
Hung in neat rows and columns, the pictures
were evidence of a history that seemed unfathomable. What must it
be like to be a part of a family, to know all your relatives, and
to experience the connection of blood that flows through the roots
of an extensive family tree? She remembered having grandparents
when she was very small—her mother’s parents at least. They lived
far away in another country. She’d only met them a few times and
they spoke a strange language she hadn’t understood. She couldn’t
remember her father’s parents at all. The only family she ever
really knew was her mother and father. And they were dead.
“ Where are your parents?”
Brinn asked, pushing away the memories.
“ Since I started school,
Mom and Dad have taken up golf. I don’t see the fun in chasing a
little ball and trying to whack it into a hole, but they’re
obsessed,” she giggled, leading Brinn down a hallway and into the
bathroom that adjoined a spacious bedroom, decorated in pinks and
creamy chiffon. “With my parents gone, we’ll have free rein to play
with your hair, makeup, and wardrobe.” Abby looked expectantly at
Brinn. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Phillip hadn’t objected, but didn't look at
all pleased to leave the girls alone for the rest of the day. He
agreed to pick them up at 6:30 that evening to take them for a
night out on the town.
Brinn sank into a large claw-foot tub up to
her ears in hot, soapy, water. It felt wonderful—nothing like the
icy streams where she normally bathed. Abby sat on a low stool next
to the tub, painstakingly combing knots and burrs out of Brinn’s
hair with short, harsh jerks.
"Ouch!" Brinn repeated for the thousandth
time.
"Don't squirm! It wouldn't get so awful if
you would learn to use the hairbrush I gave you."
Brinn scowled at her friend, wincing as
another snarl broke free. "I use it for scrubbing dirt off of roots
and scales off of fish. I thought it best not to use it on my
hair."
Abby grinned. "Well, I see your point."
Continuing her task with a bit more mercy—finally conceding to
cutting a few particularly stubborn tangles out with scissors—she
peered over Brinn's shoulder. "Do you think Phillip is handsome? I
mean, do you like the way he looks?"
Brinn thought for a moment as she blew
bubbles out of her hand. "I guess so. I can see you like him very
much." She smiled at her friend, whose eyes lit and voice softened
when she spoke his name.
"Oh, I’m soooo in love with him. That’s why
I'm going to marry him. He’s totally cute and he’s a hard worker.
He's going to be rich and successful. I think he’ll make a good
husband and father, too. He wants tons of kids. So do I." Abby
gushed on about her plans with Phillip, stopping only when Brinn's
silence and withdrawal became apparent.
Her head was barely above the water, her eyes
and nose set on the surface like a blue-eyed sea monster ready
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