Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1)

I sat there staring ahead.

“Well?” she asked.

I looked at her with a “Well, what?” expression.

“You understand and agree to everything I’ve said?”

I glanced at Daddy. He looked like he was ready to break into tears any moment, but I could see the fear in his face, too, fear I would say something nasty and end it all. His eyes were full of pleading.

“I understand,” I said.

“Good.” She turned to Daddy. “All right, Horace. We’ll give it a try, but if she gives us any problem and doesn’t listen…”

“Oh, she won’t give you any problems,” Daddy said quickly. “She’s a good girl. She’s just in with too many bad kids, and she doesn’t have me around enough. I appreciate this, Mae. I know she’ll do well in a home where there is love, responsibility, and supervision.”

Aunt Mae Louise grunted skeptically and looked very self-important. I hated to see Daddy grovel like that, but I was afraid to raise my voice. I just continued to stare at nothing, like someone who could meditate herself right out of hell.

“When you bringing her things?” Buster asked. I saw that he kept his eyes on me instead of Daddy whenever he spoke about me.

“I thought tomorrow, Buster, if that’s all right with you.”

“It doesn’t matter when she starts, Horace. It’s how she behaves afterward,” Uncle Buster said.

“Oh, right. Of course,” Daddy said. “She knows that.”

“The room’s all ready. I always keep it clean and prepared for guests,” Aunt Mae Louise said. “I’ll just move some of my things out of the closet tonight so she has all the room she needs.”

“What about the school?” Daddy asked.

“I’ll get her registered and all,” Aunt Mae Louise said. “I’ve already spoken to the principal, Mr. Wallop, about her, and he explained what has to be done. You sign a paper saying you give us temporary guardianship. We go to all the parent-teacher meetings so they know us well at the school. There was even talk about Buster being on the board,” she said proudly.

“Maybe someday,” he said, “but I’m a little too busy at the moment to give it the time it requires.”

“There’s a good lesson for you,” Aunt Mae Louise told me. “Never take on any responsibility you can’t give one hundred percent to.”

I looked at her as if she was totally crazy. What did she think I was going to do, run for student government president?

“Then it’s settled,” Uncle Buster said. “How is your business going?” he asked Daddy, anxious to get off the topic of me.

They started to talk about the economy. Aunt Mae Louise brought me to the guest room and explained how she wanted things kept.

“You make sure you make the bed before you leave for school every morning, Phoebe. Fix it just like this, with the pillows fluffed and the comforter neatly folded. I don’t want people coming to my home and seeing an unmade bed. And no clothes lying about on the floor or over chairs. Everything gets hung up properly. Nothing looks messier than discarded garments. I used to fight with your mother all the time about that. She was just too lazy and didn’t care what people did or didn’t see.”

“I can keep the door closed,” I said, “can’t I?”

“It doesn’t matter if a door is closed and everything behind it is a mess. It’s still a mess. Now you be sure you don’t drop any makeup or such on this rug. It’s practically new,” she pointed out.

“You’ll be sharing a bathroom with Jake and Barbara Ann, of course. They know how to clean up after themselves. They even wash out the tub after they bathe. Jake does the best he can, and I come in after him and finish, but he’s gotten into the good habits.”

“I’m not a dirty person, Aunt Mae,” I said.

“I never said you were. I’m just telling you how things are here in our home and how I want them to remain. I feel sorry for your daddy. I felt sorry for him two minutes after he said ‘I do’ to my sister. If you care about him, you’ll be a good girl now. In a way,” she said, “it might be the best thing that happened to the both of you, your mother running off like that. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and sometimes, something that seems bad really is good. You go to church with your daddy much?” she asked.

“Never,” I said dryly.

She pulled up her shoulders.

“Well, we’ll see about changing that.”