“She painted a gorgeous picture yesterday. I think she’s going to be the next big thing—only in small pictures.” Sophie told her about Emma’s love for tiny houses and how she wanted to do paintings to decorate them.
“At least she’s got a dream now,” Rebel said.
“Mama, did you ever wish that you hadn’t gotten pregnant and had a child to support all on your own?” Sophie blurted out.
“No! Good Lord, Sophie, why would you ask that?”
Sophie sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. “Victoria told Emma that she never wanted children. I just wondered if you felt like that, especially when you found out you were raising me with no help.”
“No, I didn’t.” Rebel’s tone was blunt. “I had help. My mother came and stayed with me for six months after you were born. Then I got a few jobs cleaning houses where they didn’t mind me bringing you with me. Honey, you were my best friend, even as a baby and a toddler. Don’t ever feel like you upset my dreams or my life. You’ve always been a blessing.” Rebel chuckled. “Back that up. You were a little monster from the time you were about fifteen until you graduated, but I just figured I was payin’ for my raisin’. Your grandmother Mason said I was the same way.”
Sophie closed her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Mama.”
“No, darlin’, thanks go to you for completing my life,” Rebel said. “On that note, I’ve got to get ready for work. It’s Monday, and today I’ve got two houses to clean. I’m sorry Emma grew up knowing that she wasn’t really wanted. Give her a hug from me.”
“Will do, and love you,” Sophie said.
“Right back atcha, kid,” Rebel said and ended the call.
Sophie stared at the ceiling for a long time. If she was given the chance at having another child, would she be a good mother? She could never be like Victoria and almost despise her child, but would she be a loving one like her own mother? No answers came floating down from the ceiling, so Sophie laid the phone aside, crawled out of bed, and followed her nose to the kitchen, where she smelled coffee brewing. Emma had already set up painting equipment on the bar and had roughly sketched in a cardinal sitting on the porch rail. Sophie stopped by the barstool where she was perched and gave her a brief hug.
“What’s that for?” Emma asked.
“Surviving that horrible nightmare, and this one is from Mama. Thank you for letting me talk to her about it.” She gave her another hug and headed for the coffeepot, poured herself a cup, and then topped off Emma’s. “Looks like the weatherman was right and we’ll be inside today.”
“I loved Rebel’s hugs, and I’ve always trusted her.” Emma smiled. “Daddy gave good hugs, but”—she frowned—“I don’t remember Mother ever hugging me at all. Do you think that if I ever do come out on the other side of all this and become a mother, I’ll be like her?”
“Of course not. If either one of us ever has kids, we’re going to be like my mother.” Sophie hoped with all her heart that she was telling the truth and that neither of them wound up acting like Victoria.
“I hope so.” Emma didn’t ever want to bring into the world a child who would feel the way she did. She had given up on ever thinking that she could alter herself so that her mother would love her like Rebel loved Sophie. Yet, somewhere deep in her heart, she wished that Victoria would change.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to make a breakfast burrito,” Sophie said. “Want me to make you one?”
“Love one.” Emma started to move the paints.
“We can eat on the sofa and open the door a crack so we can smell the rain,” Sophie told her.
Emma slid off the barstool and opened the glass door a little. “I love the sound and the smell of rain.”
“Me too,” Sophie said. “I wish we could paint the smell of a good rainstorm.”
Emma carried her coffee to the living room and sat down on the sofa. “As real as your pictures are, I can feel the warmth of the sun coming off that one, so I bet I could smell rain if you work on one like that today.”
“You give me way too much credit. I see you’re doing a cardinal, but not a male one.” Sophie tilted her head toward the small canvas on the bar.
“The female needs to be recognized,” Emma said. “She lays the eggs, sits on them, takes care of the babies. She should be recognized, and besides, I found a tiny feather on the porch yesterday from the lady bird to work into my picture. It was an omen for sure. I’m painting it with a very faint rainbow in the background to show that we have to endure the rain if we want to have the rainbow.”
Sophie handed her a paper towel and a burrito. “You are a walking example of that.”
“Do you really think I’ll ever get to see the rainbow?” Emma sighed and dabbed at the single tear finding its way down her cheek.
“Yes, you will.” Sophie sat down on the end of the sofa. “You are going to have lots of rainbows in your future, and many pots of gold at the end of them.”
“I don’t even care about the gold. I just want the rainbow, because to me that will mean that all this rape stuff is finally over. But I don’t want to talk about that today. What are you going to paint?” Emma asked.
“I’ve decided to do a long, thin picture today—just a slice of the mountain and maybe a yucca plant in the foreground with rain falling on the bloom.”
A rap on the door startled Emma so badly that she almost dropped her burrito. Then the door opened and Filly dashed in without an invitation. She had cut a hole in a black garbage bag for her head and one in each side for her arms. She carried a pan across the living room and set it on the cabinet, and then she removed the garbage bag and tossed it in the trash can.
“I brought cinnamon rolls for y’all’s breakfast. I need some inspiration for my jewelry this morning. Nothing seems to appeal to me. What are y’all working on?” She poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it to the rocking chair that had been shoved back in the corner so Sophie could set her painting up to dry.
“Emma is going to paint a mama cardinal in the rain, and I’m thinking about doing one of the mountain that’s in that picture”—she pointed to the one that was finished and drying—“but mine will have a big yucca in the foreground in this one, and where that one has the sun peeking over the mountain, this one will have rain.”
“I knew I could find something to kick me in the butt and get me going if I came over here. I never thought of painting rain on my rocks. Maybe three rocks on one necklace,” Filly said. “Dark clouds, rain, and then a rainbow.”
“Sounds beautiful. Those cinnamon rolls smell wonderful,” Emma said. “Have one with us.”
“I plan on it,” Filly said. “I’ve got a question for you, Em. What made you decide to be a flower child like me?”
“Remember what you said about cracking the eggs so we can get to the heart of things?” Emma asked.
Filly sipped her coffee and nodded.
“This has always been the real me.” Emma shrugged. “I was closed up in a shell until Sophie rescued me, and now I’m coming out, kind of like that little yellow peep I painted on one of my eggs.”