Free KARTER by Scott Hildreth, SD Hildreth Page A

mother had truly accepted Karter as being a permanent part of my life; and hers.
    “Honey, nibble on that cheese, it’ll make you feel better,” my mother said as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.
    “Karter, did you grow up around here?” my mother asked.
    Before I could attempt to change the subject, Karter responded. I had purposely not asked Karter of her upbringing nor did she offer. As a result, she never asked specifically of my childhood or where I went to school. The majority of what we had not discussed was a result of me not necessarily being completely satisfied with our age variance being a non-issue. It made no difference to me, but I feared the seventeen years which separated us may make a difference to her. If asked, I would be truthful. If not, I had no intention of simply offering my age. Her open admission of her age, by mistake or not, made me fractionally less comfortable allowing her find out mine. Without a doubt, in time, there would be no secrets between us.
    “I grew up in Hartford.” Karter smiled over her shoulder.
    “Connecticut?” my mother smiled as she sat down.
    “Yes ma’am, Connecticut.”
    “Brothers? Sisters?” my mother asked as she sipped her coffee.
    “No ma’am. I’m an only child. And both my parents are deceased,” Karter responded flatly.
    My heart immediately sank for Karter. Instinctively, I wanted to know more. I knew not to ask. Some things are best left unasked and unanswered. Commander Warrenson’s words came to mind as I sat and waited for my mother to respond.
    Never turn over a rock if you aren’t prepared to discuss what may lie beneath it.
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, Wichita is a fine city. For as big as it is, it’s also as small as you’ll let it be. You can come see me anytime; you don’t need to bring Jak with you, honey. Give her my phone number Jak,” my mother sighed.
    She turned toward Karter and inventoried her from head to toe, “How tall are you, honey?”
    Her eyes focused on me, Karter narrowed her gaze and turned toward my mother, “Excuse me?”
    “How tall are you, honey? You seem tall for a girl.”
    “Mom, everyone is tall to you. You’re five feet nothing,” I laughed.
    My mother lowered her coffee cup and scowled my direction. Karter alternated glances between my mother and I, and eventually became fixed on my mother.
    “Five-six.”
    “You’re six foot if you’re an inch,” my mother argued.
    My mother pointed to what she called the junk drawer , “Get the tape measure out of the drawer. Let’s measure her, Jak.”
    “Mom…”
    “It’s fine, Jak,” Karter said as she stood from her chair.
    As if it was a common occurrence, Karter stood and walked to the doorway which led to the living room. As she backed up to the wooden trim, she straightened her posture and stood arrow straight, smiling. I shook my head in disbelief and opened the drawer behind me. I removed the tape measure and extended the end to the floor. As I raised my arm over Karter’s head, tape measure in hand, my mother stood. I watched as she opened a drawer behind her and eventually walked our direction.
    “Here. Hold her hair flat with this butter knife, so you get it right, Jak,” she said as she shook a butter knife in front of me.
    I looked down at the knife, and up into my mother’s eyes. I tossed my head toward the table and furrowed my brow. I turned toward Karter, and stared at the rule behind her head. As I studied the inch declaration on the face of the rule, my mother reached around me and pushed down on Karter’s hair with the blade of the butter knife. Karter rolled her eyes and smiled.
    “Well, I don’t have my glasses, what does it say?” My mother asked.
    “Five foot six, on the money,” I responded.
    Karter thrust her hands into the air as if she had won the lottery, “Told ya.”
    “You’re six foot if you’re an inch, honey. There’s something wrong with that damned thing. Always has been,” my