Emilie Richards – The Color Of Light (страница 15)
Shiloh tried to imagine two weeks of clean clothes. Really clean. Not gas-station-sink-clean.
Analiese gestured toward the pantry. “Right now I thought maybe we could run over to the grocery store and stock these shelves a bit. We can leave your parents a note and tell them we’ll be back soon.” She hesitated, as if she’d just thought of something and didn’t know how to broach it.
Shiloh felt a surge of anger. She answered the unasked question. “Yes, they
“I’m sorry, Shiloh. But a lot of people can’t read. I have a friend, somebody you’d like, who never learned how when she was in school. So I never take reading for granted.”
Shiloh felt a little better. “People think just because we’re homeless, we’re stupid.”
“I can see that’s not true.”
Dougie came barreling out of the bedroom. “I finished!” He skidded to a stop in front of Analiese. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” She held up her hand and they slapped palms. “Interested in going to the grocery store with Shiloh and me?”
“Can we get chocolate cereal?”
“Not on my watch.”
Dougie pouted, but only for a moment. “Cookies?”
“Let’s see what they have.”
Shiloh thought going to the store was going to be interesting.
* * *
Analiese was no expert, but she thought if she opened a medical textbook she would find a line drawing of Dougie next to the word
Shiloh was a different matter. The girl was riveted on choosing food that would fill her family’s stomachs at the cheapest price. Pasta. Potatoes. Bulk American cheese slices from the dairy case. Analiese watched the girl lift a bag of apples from an endcap, then put it back in place after she considered.
“Okay, you’ve got some staples here,” Analiese said. “Let’s move on to the fresh fruits and vegetables.” She put the apples in the cart. “What else do you like to eat?”
“We mostly eat canned vegetables. Whatever’s available.”
Analiese was sure “available” meant cheap or free at whatever food bank allowed them through the door. “While you’re at the apartment you’ll have a refrigerator. Do you like salads?”
“When we had a garden Mama made salads out of anything that was ready to harvest. Beets, squash, green beans.”
“I dump lettuce in a bowl and maybe a tomato. Let’s get a little of everything that looks good and let her have fun.”
“She doesn’t cook anymore. When there’s a place to cook Daddy does it.”
Every sentence was a reminder of how drastically everything had changed for the family, and as she pushed the cart toward the center of the produce section, Analiese had to be careful not to overreact.
“How about you? Do you like to cook?” she asked Shiloh.
“Mama never let me in the kitchen. I’m not very good.”
“My mother was the same. The kitchen was her domain, and we had to stay out. She still loves to bake. Now that there’s nobody at home to fatten up, she joined a church so she can bake for their Sunday social hours. I don’t think it’s a coincidence they had to start a weight loss group.”
“My mother could use a weight loss group. She says she’s fat because she can’t smoke anymore.”
Analiese considered how best to broach a change of diet. “Let’s get some fresh produce anyway, and I’ll show you what little I know about making a salad. Maybe your mother will help once she’s feeling better.” She stocked the cart with lettuce and other salad vegetables, adding a healthy-enough dressing she used at home.
“Mama’s been sick on and off for a long time,” Shiloh said. “Since before we left South Carolina. After we got there, she helped Aunt Mimi make meals and clean, but she got feeling worse and worse, and pretty soon my aunt had to do everything. Aunt Mimi didn’t like that. And nobody liked Dougie, because he broke things. He’s always fooling around. He can’t sit still.”
As if on cue Dougie arrived again, this time with graham crackers. “Good choice,” Analiese said. “Do you like peanut butter?”
After an emphatic yes she told him which kind to buy and sent him on his way again.
“Do you like broccoli?” Analiese looked closer at Shiloh, who was frowning, and in response she put the broccoli back. “What’s up?”
“This isn’t right, you buying all this food for us. It’s your money, isn’t it? Even if it isn’t, it’s somebody’s money.”
“We make money to spend it. This is the way I want to spend mine.”
“I don’t see why.”
“If I didn’t want to spend money on you, would that make sense? Because for some reason it always seems to. Nobody questions that.”
She could see that Shiloh was working that out, so Analiese did a mini-sermon on the Golden Rule. “Look at it this way. If I were in trouble I would want somebody to help me. I’m just taking my turn.”
“I’m ready to be on the other side, you know? Being helped gets old really quick.”
“I bet.”
Shiloh’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How do you know? Have you ever been there?”
“We’ve all needed help from friends or family, and sometimes from strangers.”
“Friends and family, that’s different.”
“Then let’s be friends and this won’t feel so strange.” Analiese picked up the broccoli again. “Some broccoli between friends?”
“That’s weird.”
“I can show you how to cook it.”
“You’re not like any minister I’ve ever known.”
“I’ll consider that a compliment.”
They finished the shopping, adding Dougie’s peanut butter, a package of chicken and another of frozen fish before they checked out. They were in the car heading back to church with an exhausted Dougie napping when Analiese brought up the subject she knew Shiloh would least want to hear.
“Have you thought about school, Shiloh? Because you’re much too smart not to get a good education. And Dougie is, too.”
“We’re homeschooling.”
The girl was trying so hard with so little. She tried to think of a way to say what she was thinking without alienating her, never easy with a young teen.
“We have parents in our church who homeschool their children. I’ve seen it work two ways, Shiloh. One, the family is conscientious and partners with others to offer their children a well-rounded education with the chance to socialize and be involved in sports and other activities. Two, the family just lets their children do whatever they want. The second doesn’t work very well, and those children suffer.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I’m guessing you’re thirteen?”
“Fourteen going on fifteen.”
Answered like a child. Analiese guessed fifteen might be eleven months away. “That means you should be in eighth grade?”
“Ninth. I skipped a grade.”
And these days she was skipping a lot more. Analiese decided it was time to go right to the heart of the bad news.
“You had a difficult time at school in Atlanta. But, Shiloh, you saw how much trouble that caused your parents. So as smart as you are, you must see you have to go to school while you’re in Asheville, and so does your brother. If you don’t, you’ll get them into the same trouble again.”
“I’m not going, and neither is he.”
“It was that bad, huh?”
The sympathy seemed to take her aback. “I hated it.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“I was in gifted classes in Ohio. When we got to South Carolina they said they didn’t have gifted classes unless my parents could pay to have me tested again, and then they put me in with dumb kids because that’s where they had room for me. In Atlanta they looked at my South Carolina records and put me in dumber classes. And the kids were awful.”
Analiese heard two things. One, this girl was so unhappy with the way she had been treated that she was willing to share her story with a stranger. Two, that Shiloh’s self-esteem had suffered and getting her back into school was going to require every bit of skill Analiese possessed.