Free The Seventh Mother by Sherri Wood Emmons

was happy. Maybe this time it would last. Please, God . . . I began again.
    A knock at the door startled all of us. I ran to open it and found Lashaundra standing on the step, her coat wrapped tightly around her. A bitterly cold wind whipped at her braids.
    “Come in, Lashaundra,” Emma called. “And close the door! Good Lord almighty, it’s cold out there!”
    “This from the woman who lived year-round in Idaho,” Daddy said, flicking her bottom with a dish towel.
    “That’s a different kind of cold,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s cold, yeah. But the cold doesn’t seep into your bones like it does here.”
    “That’s the humidity,” Daddy said. “Dry cold is better than wet cold, just like dry heat is better than wet.”
    “Your pie was really good,” Lashaundra said, rubbing her belly and beaming at Emma. “Daddy said it’s the best pecan pie he ever ate.”
    “Well, your mom’s pie was amazing!” Emma smiled back at her. “I think Brannon ate half of it in one sitting.”
    “Do you want to spend the night?” Lashaundra turned to me. “Mama’s gonna make spiced cider.”
    I licked my lips, remembering Mrs. Johnson’s cider.
    “Can I, Daddy?”
    “Sure,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
    “She said you-all should come, too,” Lashaundra said.
    “Not to spend the night,” she added quickly. “Just for cider.”
    “That sounds like a plan,” Daddy said.
    And so we all spent the evening together, eating the last of the pie and sipping Mrs. Johnson’s spiced cider.
    By the time we climbed into Lashaundra’s bunk, my tummy was aching from so much food.
    “Guess what,” she whispered.
    “What?”
    “Daddy says we might be staying here for good.”
    “Really?” I stared at her. “How come?”
    “There’s talk at the warehouse about some of the temp workers staying on. If Daddy gets asked to stay, we’ll sell the RV and move into a real apartment.”
    “Wow.” I thought about it for a minute. “Do you think my dad will get asked, too?”
    “I don’t know.” Lashaundra sighed. “I hope so. Wouldn’t it be great if we both stayed? Then we could go to school together and everything.”
    I nodded. It would be great to stay in one place and to have a real friend.
    “Mama said we should pray real hard about it.”
    I nodded again. Would that work? If I prayed, would that help Daddy get a real job, so we could live in a real house and I could go to a real school?
    I thought about what Daddy always said about people who prayed. Then I thought about Emma wanting to say something at lunch. She didn’t seem ignorant or superstitious. Neither did Mrs. Johnson, and she prayed all the time.
    I shut my eyes tight and held Lashaundra’s hand.
    “Dear Lord,” she said softly, “please let Daddy get a permanent job. And let Mr. Bohner get one, too, so Jenny and I can be friends forever. Amen.”
    “Amen,” I said.
    Long after Lashaundra was asleep, I lay awake listening to the sounds in the RV and wondering about praying. Finally, just before I fell asleep, I whispered, “Dear God, if you’re there, can you please help my dad get a real job? If you do, I’ll be really good for the rest of my life. I promise.”
    I waited a minute more, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. So I just said, “Amen.”

12
Emma
    “O rder’s up!” Harlan called from the kitchen. I picked up the plates and carried them to a table, managing to set the right order before the right customer.
    My first couple shifts at the diner had been pretty bad. I messed up so many orders, I thought Harlan was going to fire me on the spot. But then I started getting the hang of it. And Resa was fun to work with.
    “Ya’ll got room for some dessert?” Resa asked the table behind me.
    “I’ll have the apple pie with ice cream,” the man said loudly.
    “How ’bout you, Shirley?” Resa smiled at the woman sitting in the booth.
    “It all looks good,” she said softly.
    “Well, your fat ass sure