“Who’s Jake?”
“The one that made the wreck.”
“Oh.”
“He was always mad that Mama come and got me.”
“Was he mean to you?” she asked fearfully.
“Some. I didn’t like him.” She didn’t dare ask him what he meant. She couldn’t stand it if some strange man had beat up on him. “Would Daddy be mean to me?” he asked.
“He never hit me a single time when I was little. Remember? I told you he was the one gave me Grizzle.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He messed up a lot, maybe he still does sometimes, but he was never mean to me or you, either. I think—I know he really loves us.”
“That’s good,” Bernie said, stretching out his leg.
“Your leg hurt?”
“Some,” he said. “When Mama gets all well, we should go back to the jail and see him, shouldn’t we?”
“Yeah, after she’s all well and strong, yeah, we ought to ask her about that.”
“Angel?”
“Yes, Bernie?”
“I missed you when I was gone.”
“I missed you, too, Bernie.”
“I thought it would be nice to have Mama to myself, but it was all wrong. I didn’t like it without you there.” Angel swallowed hard. “We need to stick together, Bernie. We’re a family.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Are you cold?” she asked again. She’d wrapped him up as best she could, but the December air bit and stung. “Some,” he said.
“Want to go in?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.” They were both quiet for a long time, looking at the sky. “Angel,” he said at last, “what makes the stars shine?”
“They’re on fire, Bernie.”
“Oh,” he said, the fire of the stars sparkling in his eyes.