More Talk

Malcolm strode into the kitchen with the thought of digging a large fork into the waffles he'd smelled wafting their vanilla scent through the house, but the light smile he wore vanished when he came upon his wife and daughter in an emotional embrace.

He side-stepped to make himself seem occupied with breakfast matters, but Sarah and Jo had already heard him padding down the hall in his morning slippers. They didn't much care though, and Malcolm knew what they were probably speaking of. He poured some milk from the glass jar in the icebox and after he sipped, said a little louder than usual, "Must be from that heffer of yours, Jo, she does make the best milk..." He waited for a reaction, and heard a shuffling of fabric as the women untangled arms.

"How can you tell, Papa," she sniffed, then after a pause, "you always know how to cheer me up." A weak smile glimmered on Jo's lips a moment--a silent "thank you" for her father's sympathy.

"Well, I should know from sweet, Jo, I have two of the best reminders right here," he ruffled her hair, already tousled from her crying.

"Papa," Josephine ventured, "do you think..." she stopped, confused.

"What little bird?" he would call her that whenever he needed to apologize for something, or when he needed her smile again.

"Do you want to send me away?" she asked so pitiously Malcolm had to swallow hard to keep his voice from waivering.

"Josephine, your mother and I don't want to "send" you away--we love you so very much...But we have been worried. We want you to be happy, and we both think that some time away from here might do you good," he tried to give a most sincere face to this last sentiment.

It was his earnest hope that Josephine find solace in a world away from all these familiar sorrows. Every day a schoolmate would nudge his friend and talk of Mitch drowning--another would sidle up to Jo and claim to be her confidante while whispering behind a dainty hand to other girls anything Josephine divulged.

"Papa, what about Grant? Are you sending him away too? Will he come with me?" the hope in her voice made Sarah wince, and Papa saw the faces of his girls and sighed.

"Little bird, you have to understand, this isn't about sending you away--we want you to learn what we can't teach you, to meet girls more your age and see things," Malcolm didn't wait for an answer or excuse, but continued, "We've talked about this for some time, and with Miss Jacob's help, you are going to start at a new school down south."

The room felt thick with tension. Sarah held her breath; Josephine was practically gasping, and Malcolm was trying to inhale and exhale evenly. No one spoke for a moment--then Josephine erupted from her seat and in the same motion flung her plate of cooling food to the floor. "Why would you do this?!" she wailed, and ran to her room.

Sarah's eyes met Malcolm's and he crossed to her. She stood and they pressed their foreheads together with eyes closed, reached for the other's arms and then pulled a little back to look in the other's eyes.

Sarah spoke first, "Are we doing the best thing for her? What if she's right, what if she needs more time..."

"No, love, she's been walking around like a stranger for weeks, I want our Josephine back," he said with sadness. "The only way this will work is if we all agree it's the right thing for her to do--Grant has to be a part too. They were all so close..." Malcolm had to stop himself before he lost his resolve to send his sweet little bird halfway to Mexico.

Syrup ran in ragged seams across the cool wood beams, in the next few days, Sarah could not quite ease out all the sticky liquid from the creases. In the week after Jospehine had embarked on her trip to Santa Barbara with Grant as a chaperone, she would crouch on her smooth kitchen floor, breathing the fading sweetness still infused in her heart.