Some Luck by Jane Smiley

knock them down by touching the first one in the line. It was a good game for Joe, time-consuming, and he was getting better at it—he could set up nine or ten dominoes in a row without knocking them over until he wanted to (or until Frankie knocked them over, but Irma was good, and quick, at stopping that, too). Sometimes, she could divert his attention from the dominoes and get him to practice hopping and twirling and riding his hobby horse from Christmas. She was good at creating a circle around Joey into which Frank could not rush with ridicule, shoving, and kicking. This was because (and Rosanna appreciated this and was not jealous) Frankie liked Irma, too. Irma told Frankie stories, and sometimes Frankie told Irma stories. So Rosanna was willing to do a little more work in order to be free of those particular cares that revolved around her two ill-matched sons.
    She did not, however, give Irma much leeway with Mary Elizabeth (who could now be heard calling to be picked up after her nap). Rosanna set down her hemming and, when Irma looked up, gestured to her to keep on with what she was doing. Rosanna had waking nightmares of Irma falling down the stairs with Mary Elizabeth in her arms, or Irma bumping the child’s head on the edge of the cupboard, or stumbling and falling on her. These worries Rosanna acted upon, but kept to herself.
    Mary Elizabeth was not as active as Frankie and not as fearful as Joey. She was willing to try some things, but not everything. Rosanna considered that she had a thoughtful look on her face. Once, before Christmas, when she was—what?—ten months old, she had crawled over to a book and picked it up. As Rosanna watched, she opened the book and began turning pages, carefully pressing her tiny forefinger against the corner of the page and pulling it down, and then taking the page between her thumb and finger, and turning it. She hadn’t torn a single page. Now she was standing in her crib, holding her arms out.
    Rosanna laid her back down in the crib to change her. She was good about that, too—she had been easy to train (Rosanna always started early and went at it with dedication, because it was better inthe end not to leave it too late). Now she took Mary Elizabeth’s long johns off. They were not wet, so she carried her over to the potty and sat her upon it. Mary Elizabeth was neither a bouncer nor a wiggler. When she had produced, Rosanna handed her a page from last year’s Farmers’ Almanac , then helped her with it. Really, she was an agreeable child, and she would make a useful young woman, and wasn’t that the best kind? Rosanna adored her even though she was a bit plain (Rosanna noticed this but never, ever mentioned it and was always maybe too affectionate). She in fact suited her name, Mary (common) Elizabeth (respectable). Should there be another girl, Rosanna thought, she would name her something more elegant. Dorcas? There was a Dorcas in town. Helene? Was there a Helene? But she was one of the Carsons. She had probably started life as a mere Helen. Mary Elizabeth held out her arms, and Rosanna slipped her into the romper suit she had knitted in the fall. Then she gently gripped Mary Elizabeth around the waist while the little girl slipped her feet into her shoes. Once they were tied, Rosanna walked her to the top of the stairs and held her hand as she stepped her way down them. They were steep, steeper than most stairs, so Rosanna was careful to give all of the children plenty of practice but to watch them (even Joey, nearly three, even Frankie, at five—these stairs were no joke).
    Downstairs, Joey was waiting for her with his face alight. He shouted, “Mama, Mama! Look!” and gestured at the line of dominoes.
    Rosanna said, “How many are there, Joey?”
    Joey looked at Irma. Irma’s lips moved, and then Joey shouted, “Sixteen!”
    “Sixteen! My goodness, such a lot!”
    Joey said, “May Liz! Touch it!”
    “Really?” said Rosanna. “You want Mary