Alfreda began visiting every Sunday.
She brought her husband and children.
The boys helped collect pecans and repair the porch.
Sometimes we sat outside for hours, talking about relatives they’d never met.
One afternoon, Alfreda looked at me.
“Mama, I’m sorry I couldn’t take you in when you lost your job.”
I took her hand.
“Sweetheart, you were doing your best.”
She shook her head.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
For a moment, we sat quietly.
Entonces sonrió.
“¿Recuerdas cuando te dije que no te involucraras en la propiedad de Lockridge?”
I laughed.
“I remember.”
“Aren’t you glad you went to that courthouse?”
I looked toward the sign.
“More than you’ll ever know.”
Rosella began visiting on Tuesdays.
She’d bring a deck of cards.
We’d play gin rummy at the kitchen table.
Just as she’d done with Henrietta for years.
No era una jugadora de cartas particularmente honesta.
