Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1)

I was going to protest, but Daddy came out and stood in the hallway with Uncle Buster, so I took a deep breath and looked away.

“Now, we’ll talk to Jake and Barbara Ann,” Aunt Mae Louise declared. “I asked them both to wait in Barbara Ann’s room,” she said, and led me two doors down the hallway.

Jake was sitting at a desk working on a puzzle. Dressed in a white shirt and a pair of black pants with his hair neatly trimmed and brushed, he looked older than five. Of course, he knew me well enough, but I also knew that both he and his sister had been warned about me often.

Barbara Ann was sitting and reading a book. They both looked up quickly when we entered.

“Children,” Aunt Mae Louise said, “your cousin Phoebe is going to stay with us for a while.”

Jake’s eyebrows lifted.

“Where’s she going to sleep?” Barbara Ann asked, probably afraid she would have to share her own room.

“She’ll be in the guest room,” Aunt Mae Louise told her, and she looked relieved. “Everyone is to behave and help everyone else. Everyone is to respect everyone else’s property,” she continued as if we were in a camp and not a home. “The same rules apply when it comes to watching televisio

n and to cleaning up after ourselves.”

“Is she going to our school, too?” Barbara Ann asked. She was tall for her age and, unfortunately for her, looked more like her father than her mother. Her features weren’t as dainty as her mother’s, and she had big shoulders and plump cheeks. She looked a good twenty or so pounds overweight.

“Of course she is.”

That seemed to interest her more.

“You can sit with me on the school bus,” she said as if she was granting me a wonderful opportunity. “I’ll save you a seat if I’m on first after school, and you can save it for me if you’re first.”

Great, a school bus, I thought, with a load of screaming children. That was just what I needed every morning.

“When is she coming to live here?” Jake asked.

It felt funny standing there and hearing everyone talk about me as if I wasn’t there.

“Tomorrow. And that’s that,” Aunt Mae Louise said. “Get ready for bed, Jake. Barbara Ann, I want to see what you did for homework tonight.”

We walked out and joined Daddy and Uncle Buster in the kitchen.

“You want something, tea or coffee, Horace?” Aunt Mae Louise offered.

“No, thank you, Mae. We’d better get back and start organizing.”

“Good idea,” she said. She turned to me. “You help your father now,” she ordered. “This is not easy for him, and he’s a good man just trying to do the best he can with his terrible burdens.”

I flinched at being called a burden, but then I thought, what else am I really?

Daddy and I walked to the front door. Uncle Buster shook his hand, and we started out. As we walked down the sidewalk to the driveway, I gazed back and saw both Jake and Barbara Ann peering out the bedroom window, looking like two children kept prisoners in some high tower. That’s how I’ll feel for sure, I thought.

The night sky was so overcast I felt like I was moving through a tunnel, even with the streetlights in front of the other homes.

“This will be only for a little while,” Daddy said after we got into the car.

I looked at him with eyes as coldly realistic as those eyes of his, and he turned away quickly.

Daddy wasn’t good at lying to anyone, even to me. To my way of thinking, that was a weakness. I used to wonder how he could be a good salesman. Everyone lies to everyone about everything, I believed. If the story of Pinocchio were true, everyone in the whole world would have a long nose.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, Phoebe,” he continued. “I don’t like putting my responsibilities on someone else, but I’ve spent many a restless night worrying about you. At least I’ll know you’re safe. You understand all that now, right, Phoebe? You’ve got to be happy about that.”

I didn’t answer him. I stared out the window. This sleepy residential world looked like another planet. There were no bright lights, no music pouring out in the streets, and no one standing on any of the street corners. Everyone was locked safely behind his or her doors or gathered around television sets like cave people gathered around fires.

Then I thought that somewhere in the night, Mama was laughing. I was sure. She was listening to music and having a good old high time of it. Did she even pause once to think about me? Did she ever wonder about me? Or did she force herself to forget me? I had no doubt that she would probably say I was better off with her sister than I was with her. Mama never tried to pretend she was good.