Free Good to a Fault by Marina Endicott Page B

not at all wanting soup. She didn’t seem to be able to cry, but she had sometimes found herself sobbing, noise without tears, and she didn’t want to do that in front of Clara. She was tired in her chest and deep in each arm, in a way she found very frightening. Knowing herself to be really sick, knowing it from inside.
    She wanted her brother Darwin. It had been hard to find the house occupied by a stranger, someone who’d never heard of him or Rose. She should have looked after Rose better in her last years, made her come live with them instead of Mom Pell. But now Clara had Mom Pell. Lorraine almost smiled. The tender unfamiliar feeling in her cheeks made her laugh, especially because it was about something kind of mean.
    Coming back, Clara smiled too; relieved, probably, to see her more cheerful.
    Lorraine slapped herself mentally and sat up. “Thanks,” she said, reaching for the bowl. It was homemade, invalid soup: pale gold, a few tiny noodles, shreds of chicken and delicate slivers of carrot and green onion.
    Clara sat and watched her eat.
    “How are they?”
    Arranging her mind to tell what could be told, Clara said, “Trevor is happy, except for missing you, but he’s an easy, good-natured boy. Darlene is sad, but not complaining. Harder to tell with Pearce.”
    “Eating lots?”
    “Oh, like a monster. I’ll have to weigh him for you.” Clara paused. “I thought I might take him to the doctor, just to—”
    “He’s sick?”
    “In case you hadn’t been able to take him lately, to get him weighed, and so on.”
    Lorraine looked at her for a minute. Clara felt like she had stones in her stomach, but she didn’t look away. Nothing to be worried about, she was saying to Lorraine’s eyes. Behind, she was thinking Don’t ask about Clayton. But Lorraine did not.
    “Yeah,” Lorraine said, finally. “The health cards are in my wallet, in the cupboard.”
    Clara unlocked the cupboard for her, and saw Lorraine’s scuffed shoulder-bag on top of the box and maps. Lorraine went through the skinny wallet to find the health cards. She pulled out a photo, not Clayton.
    “My brother,” she said. “Darwin.”
    Clara took the photo, a broad smiling face under dark hair.
    “We thought he was in Saskatoon, but we couldn’t find him. The last place he was, they couldn’t tell me anything,” Lorraine said, searching for the health cards. “It seems like I’m all alone.”
    “Well,” Clara began. “You’ve got your mother, and the children…”
    Lorraine laughed. “That’s Clay’s mother. She’s sure as hell not my mother. Thanks a lot.” She handed three health cards to Clara.
    “Oh!” That made more sense. “But her name is Pell, not Gage.”
    “Husband three, Dougie Pell. He wasn’t around long, anyway. She’s had a rough life.”
    Clara couldn’t think of anything to say to that that wasn’t rude.
    “My mother’s dead,” Lorraine said. “She died when Darwin was little. My cousin Rose brought us up. Darwin’s got a different dad. My dad died before I was born, he was a long-haul trucker. After that my mom got married again.”
    Clara wished she could respond, other than reciting the deaths on her own family tree. “I always wanted a brother or a sister.”
    “That’s why I wanted to have lots, because it’s good for kids to have each other. They get along so good, it’s great to have them all, I’m glad I did.”
    Lorraine stopped talking and looked away, overcome suddenly by the unpayable, unbearable cost of Clara looking after her kids. And no word from Clayton, so probably he’d skipped town. Shit. She just had to let go of all this for now.
    Clara thought maybe Lorraine was trying to spare her feelings for not having children.
    “They’re kind to each other,” she said. “And to Pearce, always.”
    Lorraine nodded and lay back on the pillow. Clara knew she should go back and relieve Grace and Moreland, so they’d have time to shop. Only she didn’t want to leave