She shook her head.
"It's his way with everyone," she said and continued her work.
"No, it's not. Mommy. You know it's not. He's always been on me, lecturing, warning, trying to frighten me into being a good girl. Why?" I pursued.
"It's his way," she repeated, this time with her back to me.
I told her what he had done the night before with his Bible and what I had done in return. She listened, her eyes growing smaller and darker.
Then she nodded.
"I thought he was quieter this morning and had that mad gleam in his eyes, like someone who had seen Satan himself stroll through the house."
"I'm afraid of him," I admitted.
She stared at me and nodded again.
"It's good that you'll leave this place," she said with such vehemence, I lost my breath for a moment.
"But why. Mommy? Why do you say it like that?"
"I just do."
"Why is Grandad so stern with me?"
"Because he's a sinner himself," she blurted.
"I don't understand. Mommy. How is he, of all people, a sinner? Because he won't go to church?"
"No."
"Then why. Mommy?"
"Leave it be. Honey. Go on, play your violin. Practice," she ordered and once again turned her back on me.
It left me cold, even colder than I had felt when I had seen Grandad's Bible on my bed.
Chandler phoned mid-afternoon and asked me if he could come by. "I have something I want to give you." he said.
"What?"
"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise."
I laughed and told him to come. Then I told
Mommy. Daddy, Uncle Simon. and Grandad were still out in the fields. I waited outside for Chandler, who arrived even sooner than I had anticipated. He stepped out of his car and handed me a gift-wrapped box.
"What is this? Why did you buy me something? It's not my birthday or anything," I said.
"I don't need a reason to buy you something,"
he insisted. He looked so intense, so determined. I
nodded.
"What is it?" I sat on the front steps and undid
the ribbon, then tore away the paper and opened the