why do I have your dolls in my bed, anyway? Good God, I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman, and I want to go to church like I’ve done every Sunday since I came here to live with Aunt Ruthie.”
“Your legs aren’t working right now,” Teresa told her. “Maybe next week the medicine the doctor is giving you will help you walk again. Until that happens or we buy a wheelchair, you can’t go to church.”
“Then one of you go and record the service so I can hear it.” Her eyes finally settled on Kayla. “You need it worse, so you go.”
“How am I supposed to record the services when I don’t have a cell phone?” Kayla asked.
“Find one.” Miss Janie tossed the second doll out of the bed and onto the floor. “And put those back where they belong.”
“Miss Janie, how old are you?” Teresa asked.
“I was thirty on my last birthday.” She raised her voice and glared at Teresa. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Why is it so important that you go to church this morning?” Kayla asked.
Miss Janie’s face softened. “They already had Aunt Ruthie’s funeral, didn’t they? Did I miss it? I promised her on her deathbed I would never miss church, even if I was still mad at God for taking my babies away from me. I never go back on my word. I’ve been in the church here in Birthright every Sunday except when I was sick since I came to live with Aunt Ruthie. When did they bury Aunt Ruthie?”
“You told me that you went to Aunt Ruthie’s funeral. She’s been gone for years,” Kayla said.
“Are you still mad at God?” Teresa asked to distract Miss Janie from the time shift.
“No. I made my peace with Him when Noah found you girls and y’all came home to me. I’m hungry. When are we having breakfast?” Miss Janie asked.
“How about a chocolate cupcake and a glass of milk?” Kayla asked.
Miss Janie giggled. “Don’t you try that on me. You think if you can talk me into eating a cupcake, then you’ll get to do the same. Eat your bacon and eggs first, and then you can have dessert.”
Kayla went to the kitchen to heat up the plate of food. Teresa picked up the two dolls and laid them on the other bed. Kayla’s lips trembled, probably with tears, when she returned to Miss Janie’s still-angry expression. “Why did you blame God for taking your babies?”
“Daddy was a preacher, and Mama was a dutiful Christian wife. At least she was that in public. She was the boss at home,” Miss Janie answered. “If Daddy had been a farmer or maybe even a bartender”—she giggled—“then he and Mama might have given me a choice in what I wanted to do with my babies.”
“That made it God’s fault?” Teresa asked.
“Of course. Didn’t you hear me? Daddy was a preacher. God ruled our lives.” Miss Janie frowned like Teresa was having trouble following the conversation.
Kayla laid a hand on Miss Janie’s arm. “I understand.”
“So do I, now.” Teresa sat down on the edge of Miss Janie’s bed. “Would you like for us to get a bed that you can lower and raise, and maybe a wheelchair so we can go out on the porch every day?”
“That would be nice.” Miss Janie yawned. “I’m sleepy now, so y’all can go. I’ll call you when I need you. I think I’m going to like this new nurse.”
“That’s good.” Teresa covered Miss Janie’s feet with a crocheted throw.
Teresa poured them each a glass of lemonade when they reached the kitchen. “Have you been to church since you left Birthright?”
“Not one time. Have you? And are you losing your mind, too?”
“Why would you ask a stupid question like that?” Teresa asked.
“You poured lemonade for me. You never did that before.” Kayla grinned.
“You never deserved it before,” Teresa smarted off. “And to answer your question, I have not been to church. Not even when Luis and I got married. He was a practicing Catholic. The only place of worship I’d ever been to was the one here in town with Miss Janie. He told me that the Catholic Church wouldn’t recognize our marriage.”
“That made it easy for him,” Kayla said. “Did you blame God for the parents you got?”
“Yep,” Teresa answered.
“Do you remember when you realized that you’d gotten lousy parents?” Kayla toyed with her glass.
“Second day of kindergarten.” The pain that came with the way she felt when she got to school that