"I'll bet. We could all use some air." Betsy remarked. "It smells in here."
"Betsy!" Mr. Fletcher cried.
"Well, it does. You burn that incense or something all the time., don't you?" she asked Mama.
"Yes, but from what I understand, you haven't been sleeping in the sweetest-smelling places anyway, dear. I'm sure you'll get used to it."
Betsy looked at her father. "Thanks a lot, Dad. I can just imagine the stories you've told about me."
I took Baby Celeste into my arms and started down the stairs.
"I'm going out. too," I heard Betsy say. She followed me down and out the door.
I set Baby Celeste down on the porch floor and she went right for one of her dolls she had left in the rocking chair.
"You're still not going to public school. right?" Betsy asked.
She went to the railing and sat against it, putting her hands on it and straightening her shoulders. It brought up her breasts. I glanced at her, then looked at Baby Celeste, who had climbed into the rocking chair and held the doll in her lap just the way Mama and I often held her,
"No. I got my high school equivalency two years ago."
"So what are you going to do, babysit for the rest of your life?"
"No. I don't babysit," I said sharply. "I help out once in a while, that's all."
"Sure. 'Take the baby out. She needs some air,"' Betsy mocked, then laughed, "You still don't have any real friends, do you?"
I didn't reply.
"What do you do for fun? Plant frees or something?" "There is a lot to do here. I'm busy. And I read."
She shook her head. "This is really the boondocks."
"Why did you come back if you hate it so much?" I fired at her.
"I won't stay long. I have to warm up to Daddy a bit. you know. Be nice and cooperative until he gives me some money and I can leave."
"To where?"
"Anywhere but here. What did your mother do to get him to want to marry her, cast one of her spells over him or something?"
"She doesn't cast spells."
"Elliot used to believe she did. He told me about you."
The mention of Elliot brought the blood up my neck and warmed my cheeks so fast I had to turn away from her and look at Baby Celeste.
"Rock." she said, "Rock me. Noble."
I started to rock the chair gently and she hugged her doll and looked up at Betsy. "How old is that kid?"
"She'll be three," I said.
"She has hair like Elliot. How long's my father been poking around this place?" I didn't reply.
"Is she my sister or not?'' she came right out and asked.
"No. She's my cousin. Her parents were --"