fell, my throat felt a bit better. I couldn’t eat the slice of meatloafDad brought upstairs, but I managed a few mashed potatoes. The dessert – yogurt – went down easily and filled the hole in my stomach.
Dad said casually, “I hear Blair dropped by. What did she want?” I looked at him as if he’d said something stupid. Which he had. “Yeah, okay, she came to see how you were. But what else?”
I knew what he meant. Was Blair filling my head with stuff he didn’t like? Like how she felt Dad had been rushed into marriage by Jean, who had secretly and slyly courted him even before Mom died. That was Blair’s theory anyway. Mine, too.
Jean had been one of a small group of neighbors from the local Women’s Institute Mom belonged to who helped us in her final few weeks. Jean had spent a lot of time here. I was so focused on Mom, I hadn’t noticed her much. She and the other women were usually gone when I got home from school anyway. Blair wanted to be the only caregiver during the day, but Mom said Blair had to make a living and shouldn’t shut down her shop. She insisted her sister come only in the evenings.
“Did your aunt say anything about the changes in the house?” Dad asked.
“Just that the old furniture should be in proper storage, not in the barn.”
He looked sour. “She’d probably like to sell it in her shop. She was always jealous that your mom got this house and the antiques in it.”
“You have
never
said that before, Dad! Because you know it’s not true. Blair got Grandpa’s business and house when he died. Mom got this house. It was worked out between them ahead of time. That’s sick, Dad. You must really hate Blair.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. And I don’t
hate
her,” he said quickly.
“I bet it was Jean’s idea that Aunt Blair hasn’t come around because she’s jealous. You both know why Blair doesn’t come. She’s not welcome here.”
He shrugged and looked away.
“Look, Dad, she just stopped by to see how I was. She said I could come and stay with her when I feel better. I’ll go there during the holidays for a few days.”
I saw him bristle. “Of course. She’s your aunt. However, Jean did say Blair was very brusque with her.”
“Aunt Blair didn’t come to see Jean. What are you going to do? Ban Mom’s sister from the house?”
“Don’t be silly. It was her choice to cut herself off from the rest of us. I’m glad she stopped by to see you. But if she’s going to be difficult …”
I was done. I heard Dad sigh, then the door clicked shut. I rolled onto my side. I knew he was still hurt by Aunt Blair not accepting Jean into the family. But he hadn’t done anything to fix it.
Around midnight, I woke up and thought about Beatrice. I touched the star brooch. My skin prickled and, almostinstantly, the diary appeared on my bed. It felt warmer this time, the brown leather oily soft. I quickly turned the pages until I reached the spot where she’d ended the last time.
Something had been added! The ink was fresh, dark. I read avidly. She
had
seen me in the school bus and in her classroom, too, her brooch pinned to my bright red top.
I kept reading. I loved it when she caught Ivy stealing from the wooden crate and Duncan witnessing the whole thing. I especially liked Duncan for telling his mother off. Beatrice thought he was doing it to get back at his mother, but I think he likes Beatrice. After the fight with Ivy, Beatrice saw me lying sick in my bed, and the shock of it all, plus the lack of food, had made her faint. It was clear from her writing that she was totally bewildered.
Was I only adding to her already fragile state?
After agreeing to spend Christmas with Miss Cameron and Reverend Dalhousie, I wondered if Beatrice would get a chance to know Robert better. So far, I wasn’t all that impressed with him. He seemed stiff, with almost no sense of humor, but oddly enough, of the two guys, Beatrice seemed more interested in
Dad said casually, “I hear Blair dropped by. What did she want?” I looked at him as if he’d said something stupid. Which he had. “Yeah, okay, she came to see how you were. But what else?”
I knew what he meant. Was Blair filling my head with stuff he didn’t like? Like how she felt Dad had been rushed into marriage by Jean, who had secretly and slyly courted him even before Mom died. That was Blair’s theory anyway. Mine, too.
Jean had been one of a small group of neighbors from the local Women’s Institute Mom belonged to who helped us in her final few weeks. Jean had spent a lot of time here. I was so focused on Mom, I hadn’t noticed her much. She and the other women were usually gone when I got home from school anyway. Blair wanted to be the only caregiver during the day, but Mom said Blair had to make a living and shouldn’t shut down her shop. She insisted her sister come only in the evenings.
“Did your aunt say anything about the changes in the house?” Dad asked.
“Just that the old furniture should be in proper storage, not in the barn.”
He looked sour. “She’d probably like to sell it in her shop. She was always jealous that your mom got this house and the antiques in it.”
“You have
never
said that before, Dad! Because you know it’s not true. Blair got Grandpa’s business and house when he died. Mom got this house. It was worked out between them ahead of time. That’s sick, Dad. You must really hate Blair.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. And I don’t
hate
her,” he said quickly.
“I bet it was Jean’s idea that Aunt Blair hasn’t come around because she’s jealous. You both know why Blair doesn’t come. She’s not welcome here.”
He shrugged and looked away.
“Look, Dad, she just stopped by to see how I was. She said I could come and stay with her when I feel better. I’ll go there during the holidays for a few days.”
I saw him bristle. “Of course. She’s your aunt. However, Jean did say Blair was very brusque with her.”
“Aunt Blair didn’t come to see Jean. What are you going to do? Ban Mom’s sister from the house?”
“Don’t be silly. It was her choice to cut herself off from the rest of us. I’m glad she stopped by to see you. But if she’s going to be difficult …”
I was done. I heard Dad sigh, then the door clicked shut. I rolled onto my side. I knew he was still hurt by Aunt Blair not accepting Jean into the family. But he hadn’t done anything to fix it.
Around midnight, I woke up and thought about Beatrice. I touched the star brooch. My skin prickled and, almostinstantly, the diary appeared on my bed. It felt warmer this time, the brown leather oily soft. I quickly turned the pages until I reached the spot where she’d ended the last time.
Something had been added! The ink was fresh, dark. I read avidly. She
had
seen me in the school bus and in her classroom, too, her brooch pinned to my bright red top.
I kept reading. I loved it when she caught Ivy stealing from the wooden crate and Duncan witnessing the whole thing. I especially liked Duncan for telling his mother off. Beatrice thought he was doing it to get back at his mother, but I think he likes Beatrice. After the fight with Ivy, Beatrice saw me lying sick in my bed, and the shock of it all, plus the lack of food, had made her faint. It was clear from her writing that she was totally bewildered.
Was I only adding to her already fragile state?
After agreeing to spend Christmas with Miss Cameron and Reverend Dalhousie, I wondered if Beatrice would get a chance to know Robert better. So far, I wasn’t all that impressed with him. He seemed stiff, with almost no sense of humor, but oddly enough, of the two guys, Beatrice seemed more interested in
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