What Once We Loved by Jane Kirkpatrick Page B

tell me what your pappy might say about you, if he wished to compliment you, say something nice.”
    “He wouldn't cotton to such talk, Missis. It be prideful to speak kindly of kin.”
    Suzanne remembered to make herself smile. “I'd say you're honest and sincere. And since I'm not kin, I can tell you that and hope you hear it.”
    “My hearing's real good, Missis. Was you wondering over that?”
    “I think that's all for now, Miss Edina. Can you find your way out? I'll be in contact if I need to speak to you further.”
    “Yes'urn. Thank you, ma'am. And tell your boy it were real nice to shake his little hand.”
    Suzanne heard the swish of Miss Edina's skirts and the heavy thump of the girl's feet as she left. A large girl, most likely. Able to lift Clayton or Sason if need be. But certainly she'd be unable to teach them a thing about good grammar. Suzanne had thought to tell her to stay, that she'd find some work for her, even if it weren't teaching her children.
    No, she had to find the right person, not jump in too soon, not get frustrated and slip off a rock in her haste to make it across this stream. At least Miss Edina was the last interview for the day. Suzanne had forgotten how much energy it took to listen to everything a new person said, to hear the lilt in their voice, the length of a pause, the boldness of a question. What did the shuffle of their feet mean? If Pig barked but thumped his tail on the floor, was that different than if he stood and slobbered at the person's skirts? If they paused, were they thinking, or scheming, about how to answer? Did they sneak little candies from the bowl right in front of her, or did they sit and look at her as though she could see even though she couldn't? She hadn't realized the comfort that came in familiarity, in not having to wonder about every detail of a relationship. She removed her dark glasses and rubbed at her eyes. How could they tire when they did nothing all day?
    She stood, said, “Pig, go,” and waited for the dog to stand, heard him stretch and yawn, then press beside her with the harness she held to let him lead her. She felt for the leather, then started toward the door.
    “There is one more,” Esther told her, startling her.
    Suzanne put her hand to her throat. She'd forgotten Esther was in the room. For some reason, Suzanne resisted simply hiring Esther as the boys' tutor. Perhaps it was Esther's chuckle when Esty told her of the finger talking. As if it was a joke. Esther was set in her ways and came quickly—too quickly—to conclusions. But Suzanne had promised her she would officially consider her for the position. She didn't want to hurt Esther's feelings, though she knew by delaying she was.
    “Would you mind terribly waiting until tomorrow, Esther?” Suzanne told her. “I'm very tired. This is more work than I'd thought it might be.”
    “I wasn't thinking of my own interview.” Suzanne heard frostiness in Esthers voice. “However, there is still another. A gentleman, who has been waiting quite patiently.”
    “You didn't tell me there was a male applicant. I don't think that would work at all.”
    “I told him as much. He said he was hoping to ‘press his case,' as he put it. Seems he had a brother once who was a mute.”
    “Clayton is not a mute! He has words! You didn't say anything like that in the ad, did you?”
    “Certainly not. But I brought Clayton past him each time you had the applicants talk with the boy. And he asked me, having heard nothing come from the child's mouth. People must know something's amiss, or you wouldn't be seeking a ‘compassionate, patient, skilled tutor of young children and reliant mother.'“
    “Maybe the word reliant threw him off,” Suzanne said.
    “You didn't want ‘needy,' you said. And you aren't. You simply have specific needs. That's different.”
    Perhaps she should just give in and let Esther be the one to tend her children, herd them—and her—around. It would be easier than