Read Online News from Heaven by Jennifer Haigh - Free Book Online Page B

years.”
    I stared at her in wonderment. It’s hard to credit now how exotic I found this, as if I’d just discovered that Melanie could fly. “Really? Never?”
    â€œNope. And God hasn’t struck me dead.” She threw open my closet door and rifled through the dresses and blouses, stopping to admire a skirt I’d made that summer. “This is pretty, but I don’t think it will fit.”
    â€œYou’re skinnier than I am,” I said, though that didn’t describe it. Melanie had small breasts, a narrow waist, sharply curving hips. My body had the same features, or was beginning to, but these were recent developments. I wasn’t used to seeing myself that way.
    She gave me a playful shove. “No, silly. We’re the same size. You wear your clothes too big.”
    I blinked. My mother bought patterns in size fourteen when she could have worn a twelve. I’d never realized I did the same thing.
    Melanie chose a simple white dress that I’d never liked, feeling exposed by its plainness. I turned my back politely as she untied her sundress. “You’ll need a slip with that,” I told her, digging through a bureau drawer. I couldn’t bring myself to say, You’ll need a bra.
    Now she had changed back into blue jeans, though the rest of us were still in Sunday clothes. Even Tilly wore the dressiest outfit Melanie had packed for her, a denim skirt and blouse.
    â€œAnd who is this little princess?” Aunt Fern asked, patting Tilly’s head. “Honey, we’re so happy to have you here. We’ve been hearing about you for ages.”
    That was a blatant untruth. Though Melanie’s name came up often in family conversations, no one ever spoke of Uncle Dan, let alone his daughter.
    Tilly blossomed under the aunts’ attention, guzzling cream soda and eating Velva’s lemon drop cookies. Watching her, I felt lonely for my childhood, when the aunts had been at the center of my small universe. I had especially adored Elsie, the oldest aunt, who, until she died of kidney failure, had spoiled me with small presents—knitting needles, beautiful buttons—prompting protests ( You shouldn’t have ) from my mother. Recently the aunts had become less interesting to me, their company less dear. They had always fussed over me, the youngest of the girl cousins, but it was no longer the type of attention I craved. I wanted them to notice the ways I differed from JoAnn and Prudence and Theresa and Ruth: my love of reading, my high marks in school. Of course, those differences weren’t visible, and I was too shy to speak of them. But at the time that didn’t occur to me.
    T he fair opened on a Monday, with a horse show and equipment expo, nothing I cared about. Tuesday would be barn games and harness racing; Wednesday, the milking contest and tractor pull. This year I begged off, complaining—in whispered tones, to my mother—of menstrual cramps. “I’ll be better by the weekend,” I told her. The most popular events would be held then—the Beef Cattle judging, the aerial show. Saturday night was the grand finale, an outdoor dance with a live band on the stage behind the Ag Hall.
    We drove there in the pickup, my father, Melanie, and I. My mother had gone ahead of us, taking Tilly with her, to sell baked goods and preserves at the Church of the Brethren tent. My father left us at the main gate and we wandered into the Ag Hall, past booths showing pies and needlecrafts, macramé and ceramics, hooked rugs and intricately pieced quilts.
    â€œWait. Look at that,” Melanie said.
    The winning quilt hung against a makeshift wall, a blue ribbon pinned to its corner. The pattern was classic, an eight-pointed star on a white background, surrounded by a jagged border. It was the border that was most difficult to execute: sixteen sharp points, folding out from the original star like a paper snowflake. The design