hands looked lifelike--gentle, kind, and steady. The self-portrait I'd been working on seemed so
flat in comparison.
"Yeah, you can," Daniel said. "I'll teach you."
I crinkled my nose at him. "Like you could teach me anything."
But I knew he could. This was my first reattempt at oils in almost two years, and I was about
ready to give it up all over again.
"Only because you're so darn stubborn," Daniel said. "Do you want to learn how to paint better
or not?" I guess so.
126
Daniel pulled a Masonite board from his supply bucket under the kitchen table. The board looked
like a mess, smeared with a dozen different colors of oil paint. "Try this," he said. "The colors
come through as you paint. It gives more depth to your work."
He coached me as I started my self-portrait over again. I couldn't believe the difference. I loved
the way my eyes looked with flecks of green and orange coming through behind the violet irises.
They looked more real than anything I had ever painted before.
"Thank you," I said.
Daniel smiled. "When I get some more, I'll show you this really great trick with linseed oil and
varnish. It gives the most amazing quality to skin tones, and you won't believe what it does for
your brushstrokes."
"Really?"
Daniel nodded and went back to work on his own portrait. Only, instead of painting himself like
Mrs. Miller had assigned, he was painting a tan-and-gray dog, with eyes shaped like a person's.
They were a deep, earthy brown like his.
"Daniel." Mom stood in the kitchen entryway. Her face was pale. "Someone is here to see you."
Daniel cocked his head in surprise. I followed him into the foyer, and there she was. Daniel's
mother stood in the doorway. Her hair had gotten a lot longer and blonder in the year and two
months since she'd sold their house and left Daniel with us.
127
"Hi, baby," she said to him.
"What are you doing here?" His voice crackled like ice. His mother hadn't called in months--not
even for his birthday.
"I'm taking you home," she said. "I got us a little place in Oak Park. It's not like the house, but
it's nice and clean, and you can start high school there in the fall."
"I'm not going with you," Daniel said, his voice climbing in anger, "and I'm not going to a new
school."
"Daniel, I am your mother. You belong home with me. You need me."
"No, he doesn't," I practically shouted at her. "Daniel doesn't need you. He needs us."
"No, I don't," Daniel said. "I don't need you." He pushed past me, almost knocking me over. "I
don't need anybody!" He ran past his mother and out into the yard.
Mrs. Kalbi shrugged. "I think Daniel just needs some time to get adjusted. I hope you will
understand if he doesn't see your family for a while." Her eyes flicked in my direction. "I'll send
for his things later." She closed the door behind her.
THANKSGIVING MORNING
I woke up early to the sound of wind battering my window. I shivered and shook in my bed.
Daniel was
128
right. He didn't need anybody. I'd been fooling myself in that garden. Daniel didn't need my
lifeline. He didn't need me at all.
I palled my comforter over my shoulders and hunched into a ball, but no matter what I did, I
couldn't find warmth in my bed.
The clinking of flatware in the distance was evidence that my mother was already setting the
table in anticipation of today's Thanksgiving dinner to end all dinners.
I decided to get an early start on making amends for yesterday's absence and lurched out of bed.
The sleepiness in my brain vanished the second my feet hit the frigid hardwood floor. I scurried
over to the closet and pulled on my slippers and robe and then made my way downstairs.
Mom had two of the tables from the parish's social hall pushed together so they stuck out into the
foyer from the dining room. They were draped with pressed linen tablecloths the shade of maple
leaves, and she was setting places for at least twenty-five with her best china and crystal goblets.
Festive floral arrangements and candles adorned the table instead of the usual papiermache
pilgrims I'd helped her make when I was nine.
"Looks nice," I said from the last step.
Mom almost dropped a plate. She steadied herself and placed it on the table. "Hmm," she said. "I
don't need you up until a quarter to six to get the pies started."
129
Obviously, all had not been forgiven yet,
I sighed. "I was awake anyway." I rubbed my
hands together. "You could stand to turn up the heat, though."
"It will get plenty warm in here when the ovens get going and this place starts filling up with
people. We've got a crowd this year. I'm doing two turkeys." She placed silverware around the
table as she spoke. "But that means the pies need to be done by eight at the latest. I bought
fixings for two of your caramel apple pies and a couple of spiced pumpkin. Your dad is making
his famous crescent rolls, so we need to time those just right."
"Thank goodness for two ovens."
"Like I said, it will get plenty warm in here."
"But can't we turn up the heat for a few minutes?" I peeked through the window curtains and was
actually surprised that the lawn was still bare and dead and not blanketed with snow. "Aren't you
afraid Baby James will freeze to death or something?"
Mom almost laughed. "It's not that cold." She came up and swatted me on the butt. "Go get an
early start on those pies. Or if you're so cold you can go work up a sweat helping Jude clean out
the storage room."
"The storage room?"
"Somebody might want a tour of the house." I raised my eyebrows. "You don't have to show
them the storage room."
130
Mom shrugged. "Jude was up looking to get his penance over with an hour ago, and we both
know that your father is the only male in this family who can cook."
"Oh." I didn't bother to point out that she could have had Jude set the table because she was
repositioning the floral centerpieces to be exactly the same distance apart. "Is April still
coming?"
"Yes. Didn't she tell you?" Mom gave me an inquisitive glance.
"Seems like she talks more to Jude these days than she does me." I knew it was petty to be
bothered by April and Jude hanging out--but I couldn't help it.
Mom wrinkled her nose. "I guess that explains why he seems so anxious lately." She clucked her
tongue.
"I guess so." I fingered the tie of my robe. "April is a good person."
"I'm sure she is." Mom adjusted the fold on one of the linen napkins. "I'm sure she is."
"Um, I guess I'll get dressed and then start in the kitchen."
"That would be nice," she mumbled, and started straightening all the goblets.
PIES
Mom was right. Things got pretty heated around the house later that morning. It all started when
Dad revealed that he had no idea Mom wanted him to make [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]