I started to get up then, not to take off back into the wilderness as I’d planned, but to get away from the insufferable males, who were both glaring at me. Hadn’t I been good to the doctor, feeding him along with the jerk of a police officer? But that was typical of males, I decided. They used you for their purposes and then . . .
No. That wasn’t me. That was the cold hardness of anger. Old Mother would have called me out on that attitude, forcing me to see how I was projecting my personal hurt into resentment. Yes, I was feeling the sting of their distrust, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and the way life seemed to have a way of dealing out pain, I figure it wouldn’t be the last.
I hugged the boys one more time then gently pushed them away. “How about I go fix some lunch while you two read to Mrs. Penn?”
“I can’t read,” Carlo said.
“Okay, then you can help me fix lunch. Your choice. Listen to your brother or work in the kitchen.”
I was surprised at how torn Carlo looked by that decision. It wasn’t until Frances urged him to go with me that Carlo made up his mind.
“Okay,” he said. “I can help.”
“I will go with you, too,” the officer said, and there was nothing I could say that would be a polite way to disinvite him.
The doctor scooted into my chair, leaving Frances to sit on the bed with Mrs. Penn, which was what he did most of the time, so she could see any word that he was struggling with. The three of them seemed well content, as was Willow who had done the going around in a circle maneuver, that always left her in the same place that she started out, curled up in a gentle mound, purring beside Mrs. Penn.
As the three of us headed to the kitchen, Carlo with his hand entwined in mine and chattering about what his job was going to be in the kitchen, I thought about what I’d make for lunch.
“We need face cloths and plates,” I answered Carlo. “Maybe Officer Krugel can help you with the plates. They’re kind of heavy.”
“So, it’s back to Officer Krugel, is it?” the man said, his face as snarly as a guard dog on duty when a prowler came around.
“I call him Frank, even though he’s big,” Carlo informed me. “My mom said I should always call big people by their last names, but Frank said different. He told me to call him Frank.”
“That’s a good policy in general,” I said. “I mean about calling grownups by their Mr. or Mrs. name.”
“Is that why you call Frank that?”
“No. I call him Officer Krugel because . . .” I stopped. It wasn’t fair to pull little Carlo into my vexation. I sighed. “Do you think I should make some potato salad?”
Since that was one of Carlo’s favorite foods, he gave a loud cheer of approval.