she keeps telling me, for when you are feeling down in the dumps.
I tell her to stop talking like that. I run out and bury my face in Anna May’s neck. After a while, there is Mirabel right beside me, handing me another basket of beans.
I am down by the barn giving Minnie and Olympia and Bea the what-for because they have hidden their eggs again where I can’t find them.
I hear crying, and first I think it is Birdie, out by the road again. It is not. It is Phoebe. She is ripping her little braids apart, and throwing the little strings on top of the sunflowers that are just poking up. Then she stomps all over everything. She is making quite a mess. Then she sinks down and buries her face in her arms, and I can see her shaking all the way over where I am.
I hear my heart saying I better go over, and of course Anna May and Belle are right there telling me to hurry, Mirabel won’t even know.
“Phoebe?”
She looks up at me, soon as I get across the road. Her face is wet.
“Phoebe. What’s wrong?”
She puts her face on her lap again. I bend down closer. I think how with that many tears, the sunflowers won’t need watering.
“Phoebe?”
“What?”
“What’s wrong?” I look over at Anna May and Belle. They have come all the way down to the fence and are telling me to keep trying.
“Phoebe?” I say softly.
“My mama did my hair the right way and Rosalyn does it all stupid,” Phoebe says, crying so hard she has to stop talking. Finally, she says, “I don’t want Rosalyn anymore. I want my mama.”
I look up, and Anna May and Belle are remembering what it feels like to lose someone you love.
I reach over and touch Phoebe’s hair, her every-which-way braids all undone. “Oh, Phoebe,” I say. “Rosalyn loves you, I know she does.”
“Rosalyn is terrible with hair.”
“I bet she’s better than Mirabel.”
Phoebe shakes herself away from me.
“I will do it,” I say, finally.
Phoebe cries even more. I’m not expecting this.
“What do you know about my kind of hair, Charlie Anne?”
I look back at Anna May and Belle. “Nothing,” I say. “Except I think it’s pretty. And you can teach me how.”
I keep wondering the next few days if Mirabel will ever see the hole in my heart. She says that after I milk Anna May, I can have some time to myself. She hands me
The Charm of Fine Manners.
“Keep it in your pocket, and keep looking at it whenever you think to,” she says, wiping the biscuit flour off her hands. “Your reading will get better before you know it and you’ll be bettering yourself at the same time.”
Mirabel picks up a tray of biscuits and puts them in the oven.
“What about Ivy?” I say, looking at the book. “How come she never has to?”
Mirabel shuts the oven door and turns around. “She’s started being friends with that Ellis girl, that’s why. She’s developing plenty of manners over there, I’m quite sure.”
“With Miss High-and-Mighty? How can Becky Ellis be better than Phoebe?”
“It is quite clear, Charlie Anne, that you need thatbook more than anyone. Why must you make a to-do about absolutely everything? Now go, before I find more work for you.”
Anna May doesn’t stand still for milking any better than she used to, but at least with Belle close she’s happier.
I still have to be very stern with her, though, because Anna May is that kind of cow. I give her my most terrible mad look, just to get things started on the right foot, and then I tell her I am in no mood for any horsing around.
Then I turn soft as butter while I brush her with her favorite cow brush and scratch her behind her ears, and I whisper sweet things in her ears, like what a lovely girl she is and how all the other cows in the world can only wish they were as wonderful as her.
This makes her happy.
Then I scratch her some more and give her some corn, and while she’s eating, I set the milk stool on her right side (cows like things to be the same way all the time) and
I tell her to stop talking like that. I run out and bury my face in Anna May’s neck. After a while, there is Mirabel right beside me, handing me another basket of beans.
I am down by the barn giving Minnie and Olympia and Bea the what-for because they have hidden their eggs again where I can’t find them.
I hear crying, and first I think it is Birdie, out by the road again. It is not. It is Phoebe. She is ripping her little braids apart, and throwing the little strings on top of the sunflowers that are just poking up. Then she stomps all over everything. She is making quite a mess. Then she sinks down and buries her face in her arms, and I can see her shaking all the way over where I am.
I hear my heart saying I better go over, and of course Anna May and Belle are right there telling me to hurry, Mirabel won’t even know.
“Phoebe?”
She looks up at me, soon as I get across the road. Her face is wet.
“Phoebe. What’s wrong?”
She puts her face on her lap again. I bend down closer. I think how with that many tears, the sunflowers won’t need watering.
“Phoebe?”
“What?”
“What’s wrong?” I look over at Anna May and Belle. They have come all the way down to the fence and are telling me to keep trying.
“Phoebe?” I say softly.
“My mama did my hair the right way and Rosalyn does it all stupid,” Phoebe says, crying so hard she has to stop talking. Finally, she says, “I don’t want Rosalyn anymore. I want my mama.”
I look up, and Anna May and Belle are remembering what it feels like to lose someone you love.
I reach over and touch Phoebe’s hair, her every-which-way braids all undone. “Oh, Phoebe,” I say. “Rosalyn loves you, I know she does.”
“Rosalyn is terrible with hair.”
“I bet she’s better than Mirabel.”
Phoebe shakes herself away from me.
“I will do it,” I say, finally.
Phoebe cries even more. I’m not expecting this.
“What do you know about my kind of hair, Charlie Anne?”
I look back at Anna May and Belle. “Nothing,” I say. “Except I think it’s pretty. And you can teach me how.”
I keep wondering the next few days if Mirabel will ever see the hole in my heart. She says that after I milk Anna May, I can have some time to myself. She hands me
The Charm of Fine Manners.
“Keep it in your pocket, and keep looking at it whenever you think to,” she says, wiping the biscuit flour off her hands. “Your reading will get better before you know it and you’ll be bettering yourself at the same time.”
Mirabel picks up a tray of biscuits and puts them in the oven.
“What about Ivy?” I say, looking at the book. “How come she never has to?”
Mirabel shuts the oven door and turns around. “She’s started being friends with that Ellis girl, that’s why. She’s developing plenty of manners over there, I’m quite sure.”
“With Miss High-and-Mighty? How can Becky Ellis be better than Phoebe?”
“It is quite clear, Charlie Anne, that you need thatbook more than anyone. Why must you make a to-do about absolutely everything? Now go, before I find more work for you.”
Anna May doesn’t stand still for milking any better than she used to, but at least with Belle close she’s happier.
I still have to be very stern with her, though, because Anna May is that kind of cow. I give her my most terrible mad look, just to get things started on the right foot, and then I tell her I am in no mood for any horsing around.
Then I turn soft as butter while I brush her with her favorite cow brush and scratch her behind her ears, and I whisper sweet things in her ears, like what a lovely girl she is and how all the other cows in the world can only wish they were as wonderful as her.
This makes her happy.
Then I scratch her some more and give her some corn, and while she’s eating, I set the milk stool on her right side (cows like things to be the same way all the time) and
Similar Books
