Read Online All for a Sister by Allison Pittman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Allison Pittman
Ads: Link
saying. “Now touch the flowers. Go ahead, lean in and smell it; then look at me.”
Nadine followed his instructions, running her tapered fingers across the blossoms as if encountering such a thing for the first time in her life. She looked over her shoulder. “Can I pick one?”
“Of course,” Daddy said, and Celeste drew in a sharp breath. Not even Mother touched any of the flowers in the garden without Graciela’s guidance.
Nadine plucked a flower from the bush and turned to face the camera. She held it up to her nose and then ran the petals across her lips as if they had somehow contributed to the stain. Even from this vantage point, Celeste knew she wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Daddy. She held her head down somewhat and looked up, her eyelids heavy, almost like she was sleepy.
“Hussy,” Abby said, and while Celeste didn’t recognize that word any more than the Spanish term Graciela had used whenthey were looking on from upstairs, once again the tone was unmistakably insulting.
“Beautiful,” Daddy said, straightening his stance and putting his hand on his hip.
“Why, thank you,” Nadine said. She’d removed her hat along with her coat, revealing chestnut-colored hair coiled and pinned at the nape of her neck. She took the flower now and tucked it just above her ear, thrusting her bust forward as she did so.
“How does that look?” she asked, tilting her head to give the best possible view.
“Beautiful,” Daddy said again, but slower this time. “Blow me a kiss, sweetheart. Right to the camera.”
Nadine complied.
“Now a little twirl.”
And she twirled. Her plum-colored skirt fluted out toward the hem, and she staggered just a bit when she stopped, facing the camera. She giggled like she was one of Celeste’s schoolgirl friends rather than a grown woman.
“Sorry about that. One more spin and you’d have to come catch me. I guess I didn’t miss my calling as a dancer after all.”
“Sweetie, you don’t miss anything,” Abby said, though far too softly for Nadine to have heard her.
When Daddy said, “Cut,” the cameraman’s arm stopped its motion, and he stood straight, emerging from the black cloth covering.
“What do you think?”
“What do I think? I think it’s a good thing your kid’s in the audience.”
Daddy laughed and turned toward the porch, opening his arms. “Come here, Celi!”
At any other time, Celeste would have run to him, sometimesmaking him tumble under the force of her jump into his embrace, but the scrutinizing eyes of Abby and Nadine slowed her steps, and it felt like she was walking in wet sand rather than the small-stoned path that trailed through the yard and garden. When she finally reached him, he took her hand, called for Abby to follow, and walked her to the brightly colored playhouse in the corner.
“Now—” Daddy squatted down to her eye level—“I want you to look right out at me and say, as clearly as you can, ‘Come find me, Mama!’ Then duck into your playhouse and shut the door.”
“But Mother isn’t here,” Celeste said, looking into his eyes for some sign that he was telling a joke.
“That’s me,” Abby said, not sounding at all thrilled. “I’m the mama.”
Celeste cupped her hands around her mouth and came in close enough to smell her father’s shaving soap. “She’s not my mother, and I don’t like her.”
“Oh, darling.” He hugged her close and nuzzled his moustache in the crook of her neck, tickling in the way that usually made her laugh, then pulled back to his arm’s length. “We’re just pretending. Like you do with your dolls, how you pretend to be their mother? Think of it in reverse. You’re a real little girl, and she is like a great big doll.”
“Now that I like,” Abby said.
Celeste scowled at her. “Nobody asked you.”
Daddy strengthened his grip to get her attention. “Be kind. We’re only going to play for a few minutes. You will say, ‘Mama! Come find me!’ then
Nadine followed his instructions, running her tapered fingers across the blossoms as if encountering such a thing for the first time in her life. She looked over her shoulder. “Can I pick one?”
“Of course,” Daddy said, and Celeste drew in a sharp breath. Not even Mother touched any of the flowers in the garden without Graciela’s guidance.
Nadine plucked a flower from the bush and turned to face the camera. She held it up to her nose and then ran the petals across her lips as if they had somehow contributed to the stain. Even from this vantage point, Celeste knew she wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Daddy. She held her head down somewhat and looked up, her eyelids heavy, almost like she was sleepy.
“Hussy,” Abby said, and while Celeste didn’t recognize that word any more than the Spanish term Graciela had used whenthey were looking on from upstairs, once again the tone was unmistakably insulting.
“Beautiful,” Daddy said, straightening his stance and putting his hand on his hip.
“Why, thank you,” Nadine said. She’d removed her hat along with her coat, revealing chestnut-colored hair coiled and pinned at the nape of her neck. She took the flower now and tucked it just above her ear, thrusting her bust forward as she did so.
“How does that look?” she asked, tilting her head to give the best possible view.
“Beautiful,” Daddy said again, but slower this time. “Blow me a kiss, sweetheart. Right to the camera.”
Nadine complied.
“Now a little twirl.”
And she twirled. Her plum-colored skirt fluted out toward the hem, and she staggered just a bit when she stopped, facing the camera. She giggled like she was one of Celeste’s schoolgirl friends rather than a grown woman.
“Sorry about that. One more spin and you’d have to come catch me. I guess I didn’t miss my calling as a dancer after all.”
“Sweetie, you don’t miss anything,” Abby said, though far too softly for Nadine to have heard her.
When Daddy said, “Cut,” the cameraman’s arm stopped its motion, and he stood straight, emerging from the black cloth covering.
“What do you think?”
“What do I think? I think it’s a good thing your kid’s in the audience.”
Daddy laughed and turned toward the porch, opening his arms. “Come here, Celi!”
At any other time, Celeste would have run to him, sometimesmaking him tumble under the force of her jump into his embrace, but the scrutinizing eyes of Abby and Nadine slowed her steps, and it felt like she was walking in wet sand rather than the small-stoned path that trailed through the yard and garden. When she finally reached him, he took her hand, called for Abby to follow, and walked her to the brightly colored playhouse in the corner.
“Now—” Daddy squatted down to her eye level—“I want you to look right out at me and say, as clearly as you can, ‘Come find me, Mama!’ Then duck into your playhouse and shut the door.”
“But Mother isn’t here,” Celeste said, looking into his eyes for some sign that he was telling a joke.
“That’s me,” Abby said, not sounding at all thrilled. “I’m the mama.”
Celeste cupped her hands around her mouth and came in close enough to smell her father’s shaving soap. “She’s not my mother, and I don’t like her.”
“Oh, darling.” He hugged her close and nuzzled his moustache in the crook of her neck, tickling in the way that usually made her laugh, then pulled back to his arm’s length. “We’re just pretending. Like you do with your dolls, how you pretend to be their mother? Think of it in reverse. You’re a real little girl, and she is like a great big doll.”
“Now that I like,” Abby said.
Celeste scowled at her. “Nobody asked you.”
Daddy strengthened his grip to get her attention. “Be kind. We’re only going to play for a few minutes. You will say, ‘Mama! Come find me!’ then
Similar Books
