Free Henry's Sisters by Cathy Lamb Page A

more human to myself, as if I could still love a mother like Momma.
    ‘We’ve tried to get the dragon to go to the retirement centre, but she’s refused,’ I said.
    ‘The dragon will go,’ the doctor almost sang out.
    ‘Huh. You don’t know our dragon.’
    He hummed a happy song. ‘I told her that there were many healthy people there. Many healthy men. And there’s dancing and trips. I had no idea your mother was a dancer in her youth.’
    I cleared my throat, Cecilia made a sound between a whistle and a gasp, and Janie hummed.
    Yes, Momma had been a dancer. Of sorts.
    ‘So she agreed to go?’
    ‘Yes. Definitely. She’s a character. A free spirit. A warrior.’ He clenched his fist and raised it. ‘Awesome!’
    ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Cecilia said.
    ‘Any chance, doctor, that you sewed her mouth shut?’ I raised my eyebrows.
    Momma was still out cold when we went in to visit. For once in her life, she seemed tiny, barely a bump under the white sheets, the machines humming, the nurses and doctors in and out, the IV line a clear snake above her.
    We stared at our petite, silent momma, lost in our own thoughts.
    ‘She’s gonna be raving when she realises she’s not in her pink robe,’ I observed.
    ‘She’s going to have a fit because her make-up is smudged,’ Janie said, with worry.
    ‘She’s not going to like the food here,’ Cecilia said tiredly.
    I didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m thinking it’s time we returned to Trillium River.’
    ‘Shit, yes,’ Cecilia said. ‘I’m with you.’
    ‘Oh yes. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,’ Janie breathed. ‘The nurses can handle her and I know she’ll upset my spiritual balance if I’m here when she wakes up.’
    ‘Out we go,’ I said, turning.
    Janie was out the door first and into the hallway before I could say, ‘Escape, ladies, before the volcano wakes up and explodes.’
    She didn’t even bother smiling.
    Soon we were sailing by the gorge, our hair flying with the wind, like pinwheels, for once not trying to talk, our thoughts our own as they tilted and spun and finally settled into a pattern of peace as we headed back to Trillium River. Janie pulled out a Yo-Yo Ma CD from her bag and we floated along on the notes, pitching and diving and soaring.
    Three sisters.
    And Yo-Yo.

CHAPTER SIX
    ‘I’m a practising Mormon now.’
    The silence at the table would have been complete if Cecilia had not stabbed her fork into the spinach ravioli with unnecessary force at her daughter, Kayla’s, announcement.
    It was a typical dinner at Grandma’s house with me, Cecilia, her girls Kayla and Riley, Henry, and Janie. Henry was wearing a shirt with Big Bird on it; Grandma was in her black pilot’s outfit, her goggles atop her head; and Velvet, the caregiver, was wearing a blue velvet dress.
    Kayla is fourteen, Riley is thirteen. They have the blonde hair of their mother and the brown eyes of their father. They are sharp as tacks. Kayla studies religions and has papered her room with pictures from National Geographic . Riley is obsessed with physics and reads science books for fun.
    ‘You’re a practising Mormon?’ Janie asked Kayla, taking a sip of lemon tea, then putting her teacup on a doily.
    Cecilia glared at her daughter.
    ‘Yes, I am.’
    ‘I thought you were Catholic,’ I said mildly. Kayla is hilarious. She antagonises Cecilia until Cecilia’s about to pop.
    ‘I go to a Catholic church, because I’m forced to against my will , but I’m a practising Mormon.’
    ‘Ah. How do you practise being a Mormon?’ I asked.
    Grandma made the sound of a plane’s engine. Then she dropped her fork and clasped her hands together. ‘Dear God, this is Amelia. I pray for my plane. Don’t let it pretzel. I pray for my gas. I hope there’s enough of it. I pray for the natives here. They seem friendly. I pray for my bottom bullet wounds. Amen.’
    Henry puffed out his chest. ‘I wear my Big Bird shirt today!’
    ‘Well, I’m reading the