no hiking his leg on the furniture, no chasing the evil cat. Zeb cocked his head to the left and intently watched her until she stopped talking. Then he settled on the rug beside the cot with a contented huff and closed his eyes. Jocie had a harder time settling down.
The long outside wall of the porch had four hinged windows that swung up and hooked to the ceiling to let in the cool night air along with the evening serenade. The tree frogs and katydids were going strong just outside. When an owl screeched over in Mr. Crutcher’s woods, Jocie reached down to touch Zeb’s head. The dog didn’t move, not bothered at all by the night sounds or the novelty of being inside, or almost inside.
A whip-poor-will began his night chorus. The same notes over and over, “whip-poor-will,” but there was something calming about the sound. Nothing unexpected. The bird never got bored with the song God had given him and switched it around to “poor-will-whip” or “whip-will-poor.”
And her father was right about the stars. A couple of the windows were blocked by the maple outside, but the others were open to the sky with stars so thick it was as if God had spilled a whole package of them there and the angels had forgotten to pick themup and spread them around. How could she close her eyes on that and just go to sleep? It seemed disrespectful somehow.
Jocie started a thank-you prayer a dozen times, but her mind kept scooting away to other things. Tabitha sleeping in her bed. How to keep Zeb from barking if Jezebel made an unexpected appearance. The Mt. Pleasant vote. The kittens and the mother cat who might lead them off and lose them in the woods. Her own mother. DeeDee. Maybe she could write her a letter. She’d written her before and never gotten an answer, but maybe if she said “Dear DeeDee” instead of “Dear Mama.”
Dear DeeDee, I hope you are doing okay. We’re fine here and really glad to see Tabitha. Daddy was surprised. Why didn’t you come back with her?
Jocie stopped and rubbed out that last question with a mental eraser. She couldn’t ask that. After a few minutes she began to write the note in her mind again. Do you look the same? I remember you were very pretty. I don’t look the same. I’m thirteen. Do you think I should ask Dad if I can buy a bra? I’m skinny and don’t much need one, but I can’t start high school without bra straps. I got a dog. Well, actually, God sent me a dog. Dad says he’s the ugliest dog he’s ever seen, but I like him. Do you like dogs?
I really don’t know what you like. Sometimes I wonder if you were ever here. I mean, I know you were. I remember seeing you, but did you listen to the whip-poor-will at night and wish you could find his tree and see him singing? Did you ever peek in on me at night to see if I was sleeping? Did you ever kiss my bumped head to make the hurt go away? Did you teach me to say Mama? I can’t remember any of that, and it seems like I should be able to remember something. I mean, I was five, almost six. Was I too young to be your sister and that’s why you left me behind? I mean, that’s okay. I don’t think I could be a California girl. Wes says I could, that anybody can move anywhere and be okay after a while. I guess he should know. Being from Jupiter and all. But I like Hollyhill. The people are sometimes funny, but aren’t people funny everywhere?
We’ll take good care of Tabitha. Love, Jocie .
She went back and mentally crossed out the part about Wes and how she liked Hollyhill. Her mother would just laugh at that anyway. Of course, she probably wouldn’t ever write any of it down to send. Not unless Tabitha said her mother wanted to get a letter from her. Maybe after Tabitha had a while to rest, Jocie would ask her about their mother. After all, shouldn’t a person know something about her mother? Like her favorite color. And did she lick or bite ice cream cones? And did she still wear that icy pink lipstick and that tropical
The long outside wall of the porch had four hinged windows that swung up and hooked to the ceiling to let in the cool night air along with the evening serenade. The tree frogs and katydids were going strong just outside. When an owl screeched over in Mr. Crutcher’s woods, Jocie reached down to touch Zeb’s head. The dog didn’t move, not bothered at all by the night sounds or the novelty of being inside, or almost inside.
A whip-poor-will began his night chorus. The same notes over and over, “whip-poor-will,” but there was something calming about the sound. Nothing unexpected. The bird never got bored with the song God had given him and switched it around to “poor-will-whip” or “whip-will-poor.”
And her father was right about the stars. A couple of the windows were blocked by the maple outside, but the others were open to the sky with stars so thick it was as if God had spilled a whole package of them there and the angels had forgotten to pick themup and spread them around. How could she close her eyes on that and just go to sleep? It seemed disrespectful somehow.
Jocie started a thank-you prayer a dozen times, but her mind kept scooting away to other things. Tabitha sleeping in her bed. How to keep Zeb from barking if Jezebel made an unexpected appearance. The Mt. Pleasant vote. The kittens and the mother cat who might lead them off and lose them in the woods. Her own mother. DeeDee. Maybe she could write her a letter. She’d written her before and never gotten an answer, but maybe if she said “Dear DeeDee” instead of “Dear Mama.”
Dear DeeDee, I hope you are doing okay. We’re fine here and really glad to see Tabitha. Daddy was surprised. Why didn’t you come back with her?
Jocie stopped and rubbed out that last question with a mental eraser. She couldn’t ask that. After a few minutes she began to write the note in her mind again. Do you look the same? I remember you were very pretty. I don’t look the same. I’m thirteen. Do you think I should ask Dad if I can buy a bra? I’m skinny and don’t much need one, but I can’t start high school without bra straps. I got a dog. Well, actually, God sent me a dog. Dad says he’s the ugliest dog he’s ever seen, but I like him. Do you like dogs?
I really don’t know what you like. Sometimes I wonder if you were ever here. I mean, I know you were. I remember seeing you, but did you listen to the whip-poor-will at night and wish you could find his tree and see him singing? Did you ever peek in on me at night to see if I was sleeping? Did you ever kiss my bumped head to make the hurt go away? Did you teach me to say Mama? I can’t remember any of that, and it seems like I should be able to remember something. I mean, I was five, almost six. Was I too young to be your sister and that’s why you left me behind? I mean, that’s okay. I don’t think I could be a California girl. Wes says I could, that anybody can move anywhere and be okay after a while. I guess he should know. Being from Jupiter and all. But I like Hollyhill. The people are sometimes funny, but aren’t people funny everywhere?
We’ll take good care of Tabitha. Love, Jocie .
She went back and mentally crossed out the part about Wes and how she liked Hollyhill. Her mother would just laugh at that anyway. Of course, she probably wouldn’t ever write any of it down to send. Not unless Tabitha said her mother wanted to get a letter from her. Maybe after Tabitha had a while to rest, Jocie would ask her about their mother. After all, shouldn’t a person know something about her mother? Like her favorite color. And did she lick or bite ice cream cones? And did she still wear that icy pink lipstick and that tropical
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