Chapter 12: Holding Birdie

Birdie was on my porch when I got home from the preschool pickup.

She sat on the top step in her pajamas with a plastic grocery bag beside her.

She held the horse in her lap.

A note was pinned to her sleeve.

Please keep her tonight. I can't do it. Hattie, you're the only one who knows what to do with her. L.

There was no truck in the yard.

I stood at the bottom of the steps with Daisy's hand in mine.

Birdie looked up.

Her cheeks were red and her eyes were glassy, and she was shivering in the evening air.

"Mama said you'd let me stay," she said.

"Where is your mama?"

"She had to go to a lady's house. She said I'd be good."

I climbed the steps and put the back of my hand to her forehead.

She was hot again.

Not a hundred and four, but warm and dry, and her breath came a little fast.

I picked her up.

She put both arms around my neck and pushed her face into my collar.

"Daisy, run and ask the widow if she has the children's medicine," I said. "Go on. Fast."

Daisy ran.

I carried Birdie into the house and sat in my father's rocker with a damp cloth on her forehead.

I rocked, and the old floorboards creaked.

After a while she stopped shivering.

"Is Daddy Jesse coming?" she asked into my shirt.

"He's coming to see Daisy tonight."

"Does he like me?"

"He likes you very much."

"My real daddy lives in the oil place," she said. "Mama says. He sent my horse. He's far away, so Jesse's helping."

I closed my eyes.

I had been so angry at Lottie for so many days.

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