“Are you all right?” Angel picked the baby up, and held her at arm’s length.
Julia-Rose turned in her arms and pointed to the dishes scattered in pieces all over the floor. “Broke.”
“Yes, sweetie, they’re broken, all right.” Angel sighed as she wiped the little girl off as best she could without a bath and placed her in the play area so she could clean the mess.
She no sooner finished cleaning when Julia-Rose let out a wail.
“Hurt.” The little face screwed up, tears spilling from her eyes. She raised one chubby finger, red and swollen. Julia-Rose had gotten her finger caught in the cat’s mouth, who sat in the corner, licking herself.
“Honey, I’m not going to get anything done today if you don’t stay out of trouble.” She scooped the toddler up and took her to the sink where she dangled her by her middle and pumped cold water over her finger.
As the day wore on, Julia-Rose ate mouthfuls of flour, and then spent a half hour crying and vomiting into the chamber pot. She crawled up the stairs, and tumbled halfway down, banging her head on the floor. Angel laid a wet cloth on the bruise, but a considerable lump remained. During lunch, the baby managed to shove a small pea up her nose from the vegetable soup Angel gave her, resulting in tears and screaming as Angel extracted it with the tines of a fork. Exhausted, she put the baby in for an early nap.
The boys came home from school as Julia-Rose woke up. “Mama.” A black and blue lump on her head, molasses still stuck in her hair, she greeted Angel with a huge smile.
Angel grinned at her stepdaughter, and lifted from the bed with a kiss to her warm cheek.
Full of energy after sitting in school all day, the boys stomped through the back door, shoving each other, and racing around the kitchen. The noise was deafening as they banged into chairs and hurled insults back and forth.
“Stop!” Angel shouted. They finally quieted, and took their places at the table.
“I want you all to finish your snack and get your chores done.” She set out glasses of milk and cold biscuits. “And you two,” she said giving the twins a quelling look, “forgot to collect the eggs this morning. I’ve already done it,” she added.
Julia-Rose climbed on a chair, and grabbed the jar of jam from the center of the table. It slipped from her chubby hands, and shattered as it hit the floor.
“Broke,” she said, looking down.
The boys all fell into hysterical laughter just as the doorbell rang. Company was truly the last thing she needed. She grabbed the baby, shushed the boys, and headed for the door.
On the way, she banged her leg against a chair. “Ouch.” Jiggling the baby with one arm, she rubbed the injury with her other hand.
Frustrated, she limped to the door with the baby on her hip. Flinging it open, she stared at the woman on her porch.
“Angelina!” Sylvia cried. “I’m so glad I found you at home.” Her stepmother turned to wave at the driver of the buggy parked in front of the house. “You may bring my trunks in, now. My daughter is home.”
Chapter 14
Sylvia sailed past, waving a lavender-scented handkerchief in the air. “The trip here was a terrible ordeal. I hope there is a well-shaded room where I can lie down. I have an impossible headache.”
Finally able to move, Angel shook her head as if to clear her brain. “Sylvia, what are you doing here?”
The driver dragged in a large trunk, and tipped his hat to Sylvia. “I’ll get the rest of them, ma’am.”
The boys gathered around Angel, wide-eyed at the glamorous, perfumed woman who directed the placing of the trunks, all the while keeping up a running dialogue of complaints about her trip.
Five trunks, two hatboxes, and several satchels finally sat in the middle of the parlor when the driver took off his hat and swiped his forehead. Nodding at Sylvia, he said, “That’s all of it.”
“Ma’am.” He turned to a slack-jawed Angel. “The lady said you would pay me for the trip out here from town.” He settled his hat back on his head, and extended his hand. All of a sudden, Sylvia seemed especially interested in the room, examining the fireplace, studying knick-knacks. With the baby still hugging her hip, Angel limped to the counter above the sink and retrieved her cup of coins.
“How much?” She counted out the money, and dropped it in his outstretched hand. Tipping his hat, he turned and left, closing the door softly.
Angel turned to face her stepmother. “Sylvia?”
“Yes, dear?” Sylvia pulled off her gloves, and looked around.
“Why are you here?”
“Angelina, I really need a cup of tea. Could we please sit down? Then I will tell you everything.”