A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [18]
Maud broke in. “I have a home,” she said tightly. She waved a hand, directing his attention to the parlor. “This is my home.”
He had not expected that. Once again, she saw his face change and his color rise. She felt a flash of pity for him.
“Look here, Maud, are you still angry with me?”
“For what?”
“For taking a home with the Vines.” He opened his hands, palms up. “Look here. Are you going to stand up the whole time? Because if you are, I’ll stand up, too.”
Maud flopped down in the nearest chair. The words look here unlocked a roomful of memories. A boy with a serious freckled face . . . Look here, Maud, if you want to make a fist, you’ve got to keep your thumb on top of the other fingers. And Look here, Maud, you can’t bathe the cat! She remembered how impressed she had been by his knowledge of the world. Her face softened, and she almost smiled.
“I’m sitting,” she informed her brother.
“I see you are.” He risked a brief grin before going back to what he came to say. “That day — when the Vines came and Kit and I left you behind — I’ve always felt bad about it. I must have seemed old to you, being eleven and all, but I guess I still felt young to me. I thought I had to do what everyone told me.”
Maud considered. She was eleven. “Maybe you did.”
“What do you mean, I did?” His face twisted in pain. “There you were, five years old, and I was your big brother. I ought to have stayed behind to look after you — I ought to have told them —”
Maud interrupted him. “Don’t be stupid,” she said crossly. “They wouldn’t have let you. Grown-ups always get their own way.”
Samm’l’s face was filled with hope. “Do you really believe that?” he asked. “I mean, do you forgive me?”
Maud shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t ever think about that day. It was the worst day of my life.” She saw him wince and felt sorry for him again. “I guess when Mama died, that was really the worst, but I don’t remember that. Anyway” — she swallowed — “I was pretty bad that day.”
“You weren’t bad,” Samm’l said gently.
“Yes, I was,” Maud contradicted him. “I kicked that old Mr. Vine and I screamed. It’s no wonder they didn’t want me.”
“That’s not what happened,” Samm’l said firmly. “Don’t you remember? That was what you did after they said they were taking me and Kit. That was when you threw a fit.”
Maud shook her head. “No.”
“Yes, it was,” insisted Sam. “When you understood we were leaving you behind — that was when you threw a tantrum.” His mouth twisted into a grin. “It was a pretty good tantrum, too. You left teeth marks in my hand.”
Maud had forgotten that. She glanced guiltily at his hand, as if the marks might be there still. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Samm’l looked at her intently. “By God and all the saints, I swear it.”
Maud’s voice was a thread. “Then why didn’t they like me?”
“Well,” gulped Samm’l, “I don’t rightly know — but it wasn’t anything bad you did. The thing was, they wanted me for farmwork, and then, Mrs. Vine, she just fell in love with Kit. Kit’s always been as pretty as a picture — still is, in fact — and you’d been making mud pies.” He looked at her, shamefaced. “I don’t know what to tell you, Maud. They took a fancy to Kit, and they needed me, and I guess that’s about it.”
Maud nodded dumbly.
“I wish it had been different.”
“I don’t,” Maud said, between clenched teeth. “Because if those Vines had adopted me, I’d never have come here.” Her gesture took in the faded splendor of the parlor. “This is a better home for me. And Hyacinth Hawthorne — she’s the one who chose me — she wanted me.” She threw the word at him as if it could knock him flat. “She liked me the minute she set eyes on me. And she’s rich,” she finished stoutly.
“I can see she is.” Samm’l inclined his head. “That’s right, Maud! You look at the bright side. Mother used to say, ‘Maud’ll fall on her feet no matter what.’ That’s what she used to say.”
“I have four dresses and books of my own,” Maud shot back, “and we never have oatmeal, and there’s a servant.”
“Good!” Samm’l