Dulcie’s sharp voice startled both Emma and me. I stared at my aunt, puzzled. Why was she so angry?
“Don’t be mad, Mommy,” Emma begged, close to tears.
“I’m not mad.” Dulcie plunged her hands into the soapy water and began washing the dishes with swift, jerky movements. If she weren’t careful, she’d break everything in the sink.
I grabbed a dish towel. “Want me to dry?”
Keeping her back turned, Dulcie shook her head. “I’d rather you read to Emma.”
“But, Mommy,” Emma began.
“Go with Ali,” Dulcie said. “I need some time to myself.”
Emma followed me into the living room and sat beside me, her small face glum.
I put my arm around her and drew her so close I could smell the sweet scent of her hair. “Would you like to hear another chapter about the Moffats?” I asked.
Emma nodded and snuggled against me. While I read, I thought about my aunt’s reaction to Emma’s questions. She remembered Teresa, I was sure she did. Why wouldn’t she admit it?
9
The next morning, I slept late, probably because I’d tossed and turned most of the night, dreaming about Teresa. When I stumbled downstairs, eager for orange juice, I found Emma sitting at the kitchen table with Sissy. Turning her face so only I could see it, she smiled her smirky smile.
“Look who’s here!” Emma cried, obviously delighted. “Sissy came to play with me!”
“Whoop-di-do,” I muttered. “Where’s Dulcie?”
“In her studio. She’s got lots to do today, so we shouldn’t bother her.”
I took my seat at the table. Dulcie had already filled a bowl with my favorite cereal. As I added milk, I was aware of Sissy sitting beside me, close enough to touch. I wasn’t in the mood to put up with her. Not after a bad night’s sleep.
Ignoring me, Sissy busied herself pushing Cheerios around her bowl with her spoon, sinking them into the milk and watching them pop up again. As far as I could see, she hadn’t eaten any of them.
I tapped her shoulder to get her attention. “It’s bad manners to play with food.” Even to myself, I sounded like a crabby old lady.
“So?” Sissy shrugged and continued to stir the cereal into a gloppy mess.
“So, if Dulcie was nice enough to fix cereal for you, you should eat it.”
“Dulcie didn’t give me this. Emma did. I told her I wasn’t hungry, but she fixed it anyway.”
I looked at Emma, and she nodded. “Mommy wasn’t here when Sissy came, so I got to be the hostess.”
“I hate cereal unless it’s got lots of sugar on it.” With a frown, Sissy pushed her bowl away. “Let’s go to the lake, Emmy.”
“I still have my jammies on.”
“Get dressed, then, slowpoke.” Sissy followed us into the living room and flopped on the couch. “I’ll wait here.”
Leaving Sissy looking at a magazine, I took Emma to her room and helped her out of her pajamas and into her favorite yellow bathing suit.
Emma ran to the living room to make sure Sissy was still there, and I dashed upstairs and yanked on my bathing suit. When I came down, Sissy was looking at the names written on the Candy Land board. The minute she saw me, she shoved it aside. The board fell off the table and onto the floor with a faint thud.
“Candy Land is a baby’s game,” Sissy told me. “I outgrew it a long time ago.”
“Emma likes it,” I said.
“No, I don’t.” Emma stood in the doorway, frowning as if I’d betrayed her. “I’m way too big to play it.”
“You weren’t too big last night,” I reminded her.
“Well, today I am!” Emma flounced past me and smiled at Sissy. “Do you want to swim or build castles?”
“Both.” Sissy let Emma take her hand. I followed the two of them outside.
At the top of the steps, Sissy looked back at me. “You aren’t invited.”
“Sorry, but Emma doesn’t go anywhere without me,” I said.
“I don’t need you to baby-sit me,” Emma protested. She was learning to scowl exactly like Sissy. The nasty expression didn’t suit her sweet little face. Nor did the sly look she gave Sissy, hoping for her approval.
Sissy ran down the steps ahead of Emma and me and stopped at the bottom, almost as if she was afraid to go farther. “Is your mother in the studio?”
Emma nodded. “She’s painting a big picture of the lake, all dark and scary, like a storm’s coming.” She reached for Sissy’s hand. “Want to see it?”
“Dulcie’d love to meet you,” I added.
Sissy took a quick look through the open door. Dulcie stood with her back to us, hard at work on another painting, darker than the first two. Lake View Three, she was calling this one.
“Hi, Mommy,” Emma called. “We’re going swimming!”
Sissy drew in her breath sharply and ducked away, as if she didn’t want to be seen. Not that it mattered. Without turning around, Dulcie said, “Stay close to shore, Emma. Knee-deep, remember?”
Sissy ran to the end of the dock and posed in a diving position. Her tanned skin contrasted with her faded bathing suit and her pale hair. “Dare me?” she called to Emma.
“Not unless you swim really good,” Emma said uncertainly.
“The water’s over your head,” I added.
“I’ll do it, if you do it,” Sissy said to Emma.
“No.” I grabbed the straps of Emma’s suit. “Emma can’t swim.”
“I can so!” Emma struggled to escape.
I held her tighter. “You’re not allowed to jump off the dock unless your mother’s here.”
“Do you do everything Mommy says?” Sissy asked Emma. “Are you a little goody-goody girl?”
Emma looked confused.
“She has rules,” I told Sissy, “like everyone.”
“Not me,” said Sissy. “I don’t have any rules at all. I do whatever I want.” With that, she jumped off the dock and hit the water with a big splash. She popped back up almost at once, laughing and spluttering. “Emma’s a baby. She sucks her thumb and poops her pants and drinks from a bottle.”
Emma began to cry. “I’m not a baby. I’m almost five years old. I can do whatever I want, too!”
With a sudden twist, Emma broke away from me and ran to the edge of the dock. Before I could stop her, she’d leapt into the lake. One second she was beside me, the next she was gone. I stared at the water in disbelief, too surprised to move.
In a few seconds, Emma’s head emerged, eyes shut, mouth open, gasping for breath. Before she could sink again, I was in the lake beside her, holding her the way the lifeguard had taught me in swimming class.
Emma clung to me but turned her head to shout at Sissy, “See? I’m not a baby!”
Sissy paddled closer. Her hair floated on the water like pale yellow seaweed. “I bet you wouldn’t jump if Ali wasn’t here.”
“I’ll always be here,” I told Sissy. To Emma I said, “If you do that again, I’ll tell your mother.”
“Tattletale, tattletale,” Sissy taunted. “Nobody likes tattle-tales.”