danced around barking as if the screeching staccato noise would actually fix something. Justine had one of Dani’s arms. Delia the other. It looked like the girls were going to pull their baby sister apart.
Sighing, Anna started through the yard. Side stepping Killer’s dog doo, she reached the slide and pulled Dani up into her arms.
“Delia, go get your sister’s homework and let me see it. I swear, if you made too much of a mess you’re gonna be in trouble. Do you understand me?”
Delia’s bottom lip trembled as she ran into the house. Once the screen slammed shut, Anna turned to her oldest daughter.
Justine crossed her arms over her chest and let out a sigh that was far too old for her seven years. “I was hungry. It was just a cookie.”
It was more than that, and Justine was old enough to know it. Anna started to remind Justine of how much effort went into making sure they could have that cookie after school when her eyes caught the scar on her oldest daughter’s shoulder. The one that started there, matched by twins and triplets of puckered skin, skin that would never know perfection, all the way down to the top of her hip.
Guilt nagged at her even though Anna knew she’d done everything in her power to make it up to her girl, her oldest, her dear, sweet Justine.
But nothing was going to erase the awareness in those big chocolate brown eyes of hers. And nothing was ever going to put the innocence back.
What harm was an extra cookie? Justine’d earned that and more.
Anna tried to hold Dani close, to use the soft touch of the baby to give her a moment’s peace, but by the time she’d caught a whiff of her No More Tears Shampoo, Dani was wiggling free.
Anna sighed at the same time as Justine, and they both watched Dani waddle away. Once Anna made sure the baby was okay, she turned to face Justine again. “Yes, sweetie. It was just a cookie. I bought the cookies for you and your sisters. One a day after school. That’s the deal. You had two, so you skip tomorrow’s.”
Justine started in on the “Mom” rant at the same time Delia brought out the homework sheet. Yep. Colored. Bright red and orange scribbles marred the perfect printed spelling words beneath.
“I was just trying to write, Momma. I was helping Justine.” Delia looked up at Justine with unadulterated hero worship, and Anna tried to stifle her smile. Mr. Andrews would still take the work on Monday. He’d understand. No damage done.
“You leave your sister’s homework alone, Delia. If you want to help, ask her first.”
Delia’s bottom lip quivered. “She never lets me help. She hates me,” she cried.
Delia didn’t remember, thank God, how very untrue that statement was.
“Your sister doesn’t hate you, Delia,” Anna said taking the homework from her middle daughter. “She just needs her space. And her homework is important. Go get Dani, and we’ll have supper in a minute.”
“Mac’roni and cheese?”
Anna nodded her head. “Yep.” Third day in a row. Delia whooped with glee—the girl could eat her weight in macaroni and cheese—and chased after her baby sister. Their soft brown hair with golden highlights seemed to sparkle in the late afternoon sun. Sparkle just like Cass’s had once upon a time.
Turning to go back in the house, Anna knew she had to call Cass. She couldn’t keep doing this alone. Momma needed help. Help maybe Cass could give.
Help Anna’d been trying to give all by herself for eighteen years. But it wasn’t enough. Not any more. Cass had to come home.
*****
I can do this. I can do this. God help me, I can do this. Cass pulled into her mother’s driveway, put the car in park and tried to ignore the way her hands were shaking.
This was so stupid. She’d seen her mother and her sister over the years, just not here. Not on their turf. And not when she was feeling so completely out of control of her own life.
The living room curtain moved, and Cass wondered who was watching, waiting for her.
She flipped the driver’s side mirror down, fluffed her hair, slid a dab of soft pink gloss over her lips and then grabbed her purse. Procrastination over.
She’d no sooner opened the car door and stepped into the sweltering Standridge, Texas late spring heat than the front screen on the house smacked against the wall, and four-year-old Delia came barreling out.
“Auntie Cass. Auntie