Billie Standish Was Here by Nancy Crocker Page A

are . . .”
    â€œNow, wait a minute,” I said. “Of course you should’ve brought it up if it was on your mind. That was our deal, remember?”
    Miss Lydia smiled, but there wasn’t a shred of happiness behind it. “That it was. Just promise me you’ll try not to worry yourself sick over it, will you? What’s done is done and worrying about it won’t change a thing about what is and what isn’t.”
    I nodded and swallowed what was rising in my throat.

Chapter Ten

    T   ime has a frustrating way of continuing on at the same rate no matter how many terrible things have happened. So one day just kept dragging on after another. Each one with an equally anxious yesterday and tomorrow for bookends. I ate and slept and went to Miss Lydia’s. I tried not to bring it up in case she’d put her worries aside. I tried to push on my stomach only when nobody was around to see it.
    After a while, I’d forget to be afraid for stretches of two or three hours. Then I’d remember and feel guilty, like I had changed my fate just by letting my guard down. It’s hard to talk yourself out of stupid thoughts when you’re scared.
    And I had plenty of stupid thoughts to spread around. For one thing, just the idea of Mama and Miss Lydia in the same car made me break out in an itch. I couldn’t see Mama leaving her usual behavior at home any more than I could see Miss Lydia putting up with it and couldn’t imagine how that was going to average out. Of course I was rooting for Miss Lydia, but I did still have to share a roof with Mama. If they were going into Milton together, I was ready to be the go-between, if not the referee.
    That Saturday morning I walked into Mama’s bedroom and was surprised to see her dressing up like she was going to church. Once she was on the winning end of the zipper in back of her dress, I said, “You want me to go with you?”
    She jumped like she hadn’t known anybody was there. She’s so skittish. “No. Why would I?” She stood in front of the vanity while she brushed her hair back.
    I wasn’t sure how I felt about being left behind. I watched out the front window when Miss Lydia hobbled out and dumped herself into our car. I couldn’t stop watching until long after they were out of sight. Then I turned on the TV and sat watching cartoons. Pushed on my stomach every couple minutes to see if anything was going on there.
    Daddy usually ate at the grain elevator when Mama was gone to town so I was surprised when I heard his truck in the driveway at straight-up noon. I had the TV off and was in the kitchen before the back screen-door slammed. By the time he came in, I was pulling cold cuts and sliced cheese out of the refrigerator.
    â€œAw, now,” Daddy said as he passed, “Don’t go to any trouble. I can make a sandwich for myself.”
    As food preparation goes, I’d never seen Daddy do more than butter his own bread. But now that I thought about it, making lunch for just the two of us would be pretty strange. Kind of like I was taking Mama’s place. Cooking for all three of us never felt like stepping into somebody else’s role.
    It seemed like the rules were changing every day. Either that, or becoming visible was making me pay more attention.
    I got out plates and started building a ham and cheese sandwich on Wonder Bread. When Daddy came back from washing up I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I kept my head down with my hair hiding my face.
    Once he started slathering on the mayonnaise, though, another dilemma stuck a horn in my gut. With Mama gone, where did we eat? I took my time getting ice and let the tap run a good long while. I waited.
    When I turned, he was sitting at his usual spot, but the newspaper was nowhere to be seen. I caught his eye without meaning to and his face was a big question mark. I froze.
    â€œSomething wrong?” he