“Will you go to bed too?”
“Yes, I’ll go to bed too.”
For the most part, life in the house with the rutabaga top was happy and serene. There were no shadows in the large old-fashioned kitchen where Mom and Janie worked at preparing the evening meal. Crisp washed lettuce was taken from the refrigerator and tossed in a big wooden bowl. Noodle ring, with cheese and ham sauce, fresh string beans, corn-meal muffins, and hidden somewhere and smelling heavenly was a fresh-baked rhubarb pie.
“Yum, pie,” said Jane. “Is it because it’s the last day of school?”
“Yes,” said her mother, “a special celebration.”
“Did you say pie?” asked ten year old James, suddenly appearing at the back door. Mom and Jane laughed for an answer, for there never was a boy with an appetite like James. He was tall and slim and inclined to be awkward. His clothes hung loosely on him. His hair, almost curly, was completely unmanageable. He had a quick, hot temper, a generous heart, and a lovely smile. As he stood there in the doorway, dirty and warm from the baseball lot, he gave his mother one of those quick rare smiles. He interrupted her unspoken greeting to say, “Yes Mom, I’ll wash myself, and I’ll wash the back of my neck and my ears, and I won’t throw my towel on the floor.”
Mom laughed and shook her head, and as Janie filled the water glasses she mused, “Sometimes I think James is Mom’s favorite, and then again perhaps it’s Bill. There’s so much pride in her eyes when she looks at Bill. Of course, Davey is the youngest, and she pets him a lot. Perhaps she loves him the best of all.” Quietly, Mom was there beside her putting the salad on the sideboard, and she bent and kissed the busy little waitress.
“Janie, you’re a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lo and behold, there was that special, shining look. And this time it was for me,” thought the suddenly glowing Jane. “Mom is funny. She must like each one of us best of all.”