Free Bombshells by T. Elliott Brown Page B

asks me how I feel about anything much. I had to think for a few minutes how to put it in words. Finally I said, I didn’t like it much, but what could I do about it? What could my Granny do about it?
    Mellie sat up straight and said, “I don’t know, but I would do something about it.”
    I had to say, “Melanie Adams, you’re a good girl, and a smart girl, too. I know you gonna look around and see what’s wrong and try your hardest to make it right. A body can’t ask for more than that.”
    The poor thing looked like she had the whole world on her shoulders. She’s too young to be thinking she’s got such burdens. There will be plenty of cares and woes for her to carry later on in her life, sure enough.
     
    NORAH
     
    “Birdie, please. Just stand still for two seconds.” I swear this girl is going to drive me insane. To provoke me, Birdie starts hopping, first on one leg, then on the other. Calmly, I set the red hairbrush on the back of the toilet. What I want to do is flush the damn thing. “Okay, have it your way. You can do your own hair.”
    Birdie places her palms on the sink and pushes up so that her feet dangle an inch off the floor. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she says, “My hair is just the way I like it, Mama. It’s free!” She shrieks and runs from the bathroom waving her arms in the air.
    I hear Melanie muttering in her bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I stand in the doorway of the bedroom she shares with Birdie. The sight of her at the dresser in her crisp white blouse and plaid skirt takes my breath away.
    My God, she’s almost grown.
    Her little breasts push against her shirt, a gentle curve in contrast to her ramrod straight back. The skirt’s waistband nips her waist and the pleats flare over her hips. Her legs are beautiful—smooth and tanned, shaped like an athlete’s.
    Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. She already thinks this pregnancy is making me crazy. Maybe it is.
    Mellie tugs her blue brush through the glossy, extravagant waves the permanent gave her dark, straight hair. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
    She drops the brush to the dresser and turns to face me with a hand on her tummy. “I feel sick, Mama.”
    “Got a few butterflies this morning?”
    “Feels like a whole herd.” She frowns and rubs her hand in a circle at her waistband. “Do butterflies travel in herds?”
    Smiling, I pull her into a hug. “I don’t know. But I do know you’ll be fine.”
    She rests her head on my shoulder for a few seconds and I wonder how soon she’ll decide that she doesn’t need my hugs anymore. Kissing the top of her head, I assure her again. “Sweetie, you’ll be fine.”
    The doorbell rings and Birdie yells, “I’ll get it.”
    Mellie pulls out of my embrace. “What time is it?”
    “Early still. That’s probably Flossie.” We both walk into the living room as Birdie lets Flossie in the front door.
    “Good mornin’, good mornin’. Don’t you girls look pretty as a picture? Ready for school?” With a big smile, Flossie removes the prim little straw hat she’s wearing over her slicked back hair.
    Melanie responds with a shrug. Birdie with a bounce, shouting, “I don’t want to go to school ever, ever, ever !”
    “Birdie, calm down,” I say. “You’re going to wear yourself out before the day even starts.”
    Mellie snorts. “Mama, you know she never tires out.”
    “That’s true.” I sigh. “Let’s get pictures of you both, Birdie’s first day of first grade and your first day of junior high. Now, where is the camera? I got it out last night.”
    Birdie runs to the buffet in the dining room. “Mama, here it is.” Grabbing the camera’s strap, Birdie careens around the table and heads back toward the front door.
    I hold my breath as the camera swings wildly in her wake. “Slow down, Birdie. Be careful with that.” As she passes me, I grab her and catch Clay’s Argus C-9 before it whacks into the end table. If this camera