Planting a kiss on the top of his head, she smiled down at him, her words careful but tender. He was the only thing in her world that mattered and she vowed she would protect him. So I cain't be Baby-Paisley no more."Īlthea squatted down next to him and set her hands lovingly on the small expanse of shoulders so eager to take on the weight of the world.
"I suppose your grandma told you that," she said. The curve of Althea's smile hardened and sadness extinguished the bright stars in her eyes. "I'm the man of the house," he stated flatly and with considerable consequence as he stuck his thumb against his chest. "You are a pretty big boy," she admitted. "I'm too big."Īlthea's bright brown eyes twinkled. "You cain't carry me, Mama," he told her, his brow furrowed in serious contemplation. Ignoring her open arms, he dropped to his knees, taking a grateful breath at the respite. "I suspect I'm walking as fast as I'm thinking. "I'm sorry, Baby-Paisley," she said, bending down waiting to sweep him up into her arms. His short, chubby legs had to make three strides for every one of hers. He was fair and freckled, sturdy and determined. The rolled up cuffs at his ankles were at least three inches wide. His homespun overalls were still a bit big for him. "Baby-Paisley!" she called out to him as he hurried toward her. In her furious haste she'd not given a thought for this child, her son. She had been walking way too fast for the short legs of the small person who accompanied her. She turned to the little fellow coming up behind her, her expression a mixture of surprise and guilt. She made her way angrily along the steep forest path at such a pace that the little cherub-faced boy who followed her could hardly keep up. "That woman! That woman!" she whispered furiously to herself. This morning Beulah had been in fine form.Īlthea couldn't still her thoughts as her hands tightly clenched the handle of the woven market basket. Her anger was a typical consequence of her morning visit with her mother-in-law.īeulah Winsloe had apparently made it her goal in life to frustrate, subjugate, and infuriate Althea. Her face was red, her teeth were clenched, and she was marching down the well-worn mountain path with such determined haste that she was completely unaware of the bright blue sky, the lush fall colors of the oak and ash and elm-the beautiful autumn day that surrounded her. She will never read this book but she can recognize her name.Īlthea Winsloe was hopping mad.
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