table and took the phone. “Hello, Uncle Paul?”
His voice sounded scratchy and distant. “Hello, Frannie. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. How are you? Is your stomach feeling better?”
“As long as I don’t eat, it is. Weird food here. Half the time I don’t know what it is, and I don’t ask.” He gave a rumbling laugh. “But thank you for asking. Jonathan tells me you’ve been doing some babysitting and helping at the church.”
There were odd delays in the conversation and a faint echo. I waited for the echo to fade before speaking again. “Yes.”
“Been doing some swimming, too? Getting some good healthy exercise and sunshine?”
I swallowed. Not as much swimming as I did before Caroline Grant’s lessons started. Now, to avoid feeling like an interloper, I would only go out to the pool if Rachel or Julie were there. “Some,” I said, feeling tears behind my eyes.
“Well, keep it up,” said Uncle Paul. “There may be less of me when you see me again, but I hope to see more meat on your bones. Not to mention color in your cheeks.”
“Will you get to come home soon, Uncle Paul?” I fumbled. I was abashed by his concern, not being used to it, and also sorry to realize my well-being interested my distant uncle far more than it did Jonathan. One self-pitying tear escaped, and I dashed it from my cheek, turning my back to my family.
My uncle sighed. “Hard to say. This is a whole new ballgame. It would be a shame to miss the boys being home—but it is what it is. You keep being a good girl, okay, and keep an eye on your aunt Marie.”
“Yes, sir. Oh—Uncle Paul—I see Aunt Terri coming up the walk,” I blurted. “Did you want to say hello to her too?”
“No, no,” he replied hurriedly. “It’s late here—after eleven. I’ll catch her another time. Take care. Good-bye, Frannie.”
“Good—” but he was gone. I hung up, swiping at my face with my sleeve before I went and sat down again, but Rachel saw.
“Frannie, you’re such a hypocrite,” she accused. “Like you’ve missed him one bit!”
“Who’s a hypocrite?” demanded Aunt Terri. She swept into the kitchen, yanked the faded roses from the vase, threw them in the trash, and replaced them with fresh ones.
“Frannie,” said Rachel. “Dad called, and when she talked to him she started crying.”
“Paul called? I hope he’s not trying my house right now. I should have come over a minute earlier so I could catch him. Well, and why shouldn’t Frannie feel sad about her uncle being gone? He’s her benefactor, after all. Everything she has is from him.”
“Frannie knows that,” said Jonathan, rinsing his dishes in the sink. “She would know it even if you didn’t remind her so often.” He patted his aunt on the shoulder to soften the reproach and then smiled at me. “I miss him, too. Hey—Mom—will you be ready if I start the car in about fifteen minutes?”
When he disappeared back upstairs, Rachel rolled her eyes and said in a low voice. “Never mind. I’m just saying there’s no need to put on a big show, Frannie.”
To my amazement, Julie rushed in. “Oh, right, Rach . Like you’re one to talk about putting on a show or calling Frannie a hypocrite!”
“What? What’s bothering you ? I didn’t cry when I talked to Dad.”
Julie threw a glance at Aunt Terri, but she was going on about Uncle Roger’s pre-diabetes to Aunt Marie while they arranged the roses. “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m just saying that you could totally give lessons in how to be fake.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. But if you want to say something, say it, Julie.”
Julie’s fork clattered to her plate, and she gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “Fine, then,” she hissed. “I’m talking about how you’ve already got a boyfriend, but you’re totally carrying on with Eric Grant like you don’t, and you don’t care if it bugs Greg or makes
His voice sounded scratchy and distant. “Hello, Frannie. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. How are you? Is your stomach feeling better?”
“As long as I don’t eat, it is. Weird food here. Half the time I don’t know what it is, and I don’t ask.” He gave a rumbling laugh. “But thank you for asking. Jonathan tells me you’ve been doing some babysitting and helping at the church.”
There were odd delays in the conversation and a faint echo. I waited for the echo to fade before speaking again. “Yes.”
“Been doing some swimming, too? Getting some good healthy exercise and sunshine?”
I swallowed. Not as much swimming as I did before Caroline Grant’s lessons started. Now, to avoid feeling like an interloper, I would only go out to the pool if Rachel or Julie were there. “Some,” I said, feeling tears behind my eyes.
“Well, keep it up,” said Uncle Paul. “There may be less of me when you see me again, but I hope to see more meat on your bones. Not to mention color in your cheeks.”
“Will you get to come home soon, Uncle Paul?” I fumbled. I was abashed by his concern, not being used to it, and also sorry to realize my well-being interested my distant uncle far more than it did Jonathan. One self-pitying tear escaped, and I dashed it from my cheek, turning my back to my family.
My uncle sighed. “Hard to say. This is a whole new ballgame. It would be a shame to miss the boys being home—but it is what it is. You keep being a good girl, okay, and keep an eye on your aunt Marie.”
“Yes, sir. Oh—Uncle Paul—I see Aunt Terri coming up the walk,” I blurted. “Did you want to say hello to her too?”
“No, no,” he replied hurriedly. “It’s late here—after eleven. I’ll catch her another time. Take care. Good-bye, Frannie.”
“Good—” but he was gone. I hung up, swiping at my face with my sleeve before I went and sat down again, but Rachel saw.
“Frannie, you’re such a hypocrite,” she accused. “Like you’ve missed him one bit!”
“Who’s a hypocrite?” demanded Aunt Terri. She swept into the kitchen, yanked the faded roses from the vase, threw them in the trash, and replaced them with fresh ones.
“Frannie,” said Rachel. “Dad called, and when she talked to him she started crying.”
“Paul called? I hope he’s not trying my house right now. I should have come over a minute earlier so I could catch him. Well, and why shouldn’t Frannie feel sad about her uncle being gone? He’s her benefactor, after all. Everything she has is from him.”
“Frannie knows that,” said Jonathan, rinsing his dishes in the sink. “She would know it even if you didn’t remind her so often.” He patted his aunt on the shoulder to soften the reproach and then smiled at me. “I miss him, too. Hey—Mom—will you be ready if I start the car in about fifteen minutes?”
When he disappeared back upstairs, Rachel rolled her eyes and said in a low voice. “Never mind. I’m just saying there’s no need to put on a big show, Frannie.”
To my amazement, Julie rushed in. “Oh, right, Rach . Like you’re one to talk about putting on a show or calling Frannie a hypocrite!”
“What? What’s bothering you ? I didn’t cry when I talked to Dad.”
Julie threw a glance at Aunt Terri, but she was going on about Uncle Roger’s pre-diabetes to Aunt Marie while they arranged the roses. “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m just saying that you could totally give lessons in how to be fake.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. But if you want to say something, say it, Julie.”
Julie’s fork clattered to her plate, and she gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “Fine, then,” she hissed. “I’m talking about how you’ve already got a boyfriend, but you’re totally carrying on with Eric Grant like you don’t, and you don’t care if it bugs Greg or makes
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