her, the more she resented her. Betsy harbored all
sorts of ridiculous suspicions. I thought.
"I know exactly what your mother's up to," she
told me one afternoon after she had just had another
argument with her father and Mama had interceded on
her behalf .She came charging out of the house and
found me stacking some kindling wood.
"What are you talking about now?" I took off
my gloves and wiped the sweat off the back of my
neck.
"I'm talking about how she makes herself look
so good and pure to my father just so hell hate me
more "
"That's not true. She's just trying to keep him
from getting sick over the things you do." I put my
gloves back on.
"Oh. brother. You'd defend her no matter what.
You know what?" she said, with her eyes as mean and
cold as she could make them. I turned my back on her
and started on the wood again, but she seized my
shoulder to spin me around. "I said, you know what?" "What?"
"People don't just think you're weird or gay.
They think you and your mother have an unnatural
relationship."
I wanted to reach out and slap her because it was as if she had just slapped me. I couldn't help the
rush of blood to my face. It brought a smile to hers. "Did I hit a sensitive area. Noble man? Is there
some truth to the rumors? Maybe Daddy wouldn't be
so devoted to your mother if he 'clew, huh?" "Shut up," I snapped, and with the small hatchet
in my hand I started toward her with such fury that
she backed away,