Sister's Choice by Emilie Richards

was in the throes of morning sickness. She adored her daughters. She looked forward to watching them grow and establish themselves in the world, but she had no wish to wind up her own child-rearing clock all over again. When all was said and done, Hannah and Alison were the only children she wanted, even if she married someday and had a husband to share the work of raising them.
    Technically she was four weeks into the pregnancy, since weeks were calculated by the last menstrual period, whether it was simulated or not. If she carried full-term and not a day more or less, then she had thirty-six weeks ahead of her. The baby would come at the end of February, before the new house was finished, and Kendra and Isaac would take him or her home to Arlington. She would need a plan for herself and the girls.
    But there was time for all that. Time to savor bringing a new life into the world.
    “Mommy!”
    But not much.
    She sat up gingerly, hoping the nausea had diminished. The room didn’t spin, and although she didn’t feel like wolfing down the truck driver’s special at the Milestone Restaurant beside the interstate, she thought she would probably be able to handle a cup of coffee.
    Then she remembered that a nice cup of fruit tea would have to substitute. Between hormones and giving up cigarettes and coffee, she was surprised she hadn’t already alienated everybody in Virginia.
    When she peered over the railing, Alison was staring up at her, as if willing her to materialize. “What is it?” Jamie asked.
    “I want strawberries on my cereal.”
    “That makes sense.”
    “Hannah said no.”
    “Why?”
    “Dunno.”
    “I’ll be right down.” Jamie slid into the robe at the foot of her bed and made the trip to the bathroom without a significant return of the nausea. By the time she joined Alison in the kitchen, the strawberry crisis was readily apparent. Hannah sat at the table with her head in her hands. The green cardboard carton that had held the second quart of strawberries was empty. Last night it had been half-full.
    “Apparently I have to stop buying fresh berries, Hannah.” Jamie threw the carton in the trash. “The bathroom’s empty. I suggest you go there immediately. And when you’re done being sick, you can apologize to your sister.”
    Hannah took off at a trot.
    “I’m sorry about the berries,” Jamie told Alison. “I’ll cut up a peach for your cereal.”
    “Hannah’s sick.”
    The cabin was small enough that Jamie could affirm that just by sound. With her own stomach in rebellion, she was afraid to go into the bathroom to check on her oldest. Instead she fixed Alison’s cereal and set it on the table. Alison climbed up on the booster seat and started eating. Jamie looked away, not at all sure she could watch her youngest eat while her oldest finished being sick. She went to boil water for tea and hoped for the best.
    Two minutes later, a pale Hannah came out of the bathroom, drying her face on a hand towel.
    “Feel better?” Jamie asked.
    Hannah managed a nod.
    “That’s a tough way to learn not to be piggy.”
    “I was only going to eat five.” Hannah looked like she was trying not to cry.
    Jamie thought back on her own past. “Not everything we like’s good for us. That’s one of the hardest lessons you’ll ever have to learn.”
    “Like cigarettes?”
    “Like cigarettes. And like strawberries. You may have to stop eating berries altogether, unless you can learn to just eat a few at a time.” She paused, then decided she had to add insult to injury. “Now apologize to Alison, please. You ate her share, not to mention mine.”
    Hannah burst into tears. Jamie’s heartstrings were thoroughly tugged, but she stood resolute.
    “I’m sorry,” Hannah managed at last.
    “I like peaches,” Alison said, not quite understanding what all the fuss was about.
    Jamie gave Hannah a casual hug. “That was the right thing to do. Now have a seat. Would you like a slice of toast, or would