Angie gripped Daisy’s hand. “Get out of our way,” she said to the boys. Lifting her chin, she stepped forward. “Hold your head up, Daisy. It’s them who bear the shame, not you.” And there was someone else who should be ashamed, she thought, narrowing her gaze on the small figure ahead who walked into their house.
By the time Angie and Daisy arrived, Lucy had already put away her straw hat and white gloves. She waited beside the kitchen door.
Angie took Daisy’s hat and gloves, then knelt and washed the tears from Daisy’s cheeks with a cool, damp cloth. “I don’t think they’ll bother you again. But if they do, ignore them. Believe me, three boys like that aren’t worth one little girl like you.”
Daisy threw her arms around Angie’s neck and held on so tightly that Angie couldn’t breathe. Finally she drew back and looked into Angie’s eyes and a faint smile brushed her lips.
“You really smacked Billy hard.”
Immediately she thought about setting a good example, about teaching young girls the gentler, softer side of life. Undoubtedly a real mother would have handled this situation very differently and much better.
Angie stood and smoothed down her skirts. “A woman should never resort to violence,” she said self-consciously. “It’s unladylike and absolutely wrong to strike anyone.” She gave each girl a long, sober look to show that she meant what she was saying. And she hoped they hadn’t heard about her smacking Sam when she got off the train. “But . . . if you ever find yourself in an unusual circumstance—such as we just experienced—and violence is the only sensible recourse . . . and unfortunately, sometimes it is . . .” She threw up both hands and prayed her Italian temper wouldn’t ruin them for life. “Then hit the bastard as hard as you can.”
They gaped at her. “You said a bad word,” Lucy gasped.
“I know and I apologize.” Today was certainly the day for apologies. “Now then. Daisy, you run over to Mrs. Molly’s and ask her which part of her garden she wants you to weed. Tell her that Lucy will be along in a few minutes.” She looked at Lucy over Daisy’s head. “You and I need a few words.”
Lucy dragged her feet to the table and sat down. A sulky pout stole across her eyes and mouth.
Angie pushed aside the green material and folded her hands on the table. “I’m disappointed in you,” she said finally.
“I said I was sorry for breaking your mama’s cup and saucer.”
“If someone had asked, I would have sworn that you would never abandon your sister to a gang of bullies.”
At once Angie saw that her instinct had been correct. A stricken expression erased any trace of a sulk, and Lucy looked down at her lap. “Daisy doesn’t stick up for me.”
“She sides with you whenever she can. Daisy idolizes you, Lucy. She tries to do everything just like you. She brushes her hair a hundred strokes because you do. She wants to go where you go and do what you do. Her new school dresses might be different colors than yours, but the pattern must be the same. I could give you a dozen other examples. When Daisy honestly cannot agree with something you say, it upsets her terribly. She loves you and looks up to you.”
A tear welled over Lucy’s lashes and plopped on her clasped hands. “She sticks up for you!”
“Is that a reason to punish her?” Angie asked gently. “Those boys frightened and humiliated her. Don’t you think you should have helped her?”
“She doesn’t think about Mama anymore.” Lucy’s tears came faster and she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “But Mama’s watching from heaven and Mama feels bad because Daisy loves you!”
Angie blinked. Had she heard correctly? Leaning forward, she put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder and bent to see the child’s streaming face. “Lucy . . . do you think that you and Daisy betray your mother if you love someone else?” Oh my heavens. She dropped to her knees beside Lucy’s chair.
“She’s our mama and we should love her!”
“Of course you should. And I know you do.”
“We shouldn’t love anyone else!”
“Darling, you can love two people at the same time. If Daisy loves me, and I hope she does, that doesn’t mean that Daisy no longer loves her mama. She can love us both.” Gently, she pulled a tear-damp strand from Lucy’s cheek and tucked it behind her ear, then she framed Lucy’s face between her hands and gazed into wet gray eyes. “Think about all the people you love. Daisy, your papa, Mrs. Molly, your teacher, maybe even Miss Lily.”