Once In A Blue Moon. Kristin James

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СКАЧАТЬ buy a lovely secluded house with plenty of yard for Jenny to play in. She could send Jenny to an excellent school and pay for a housekeeper/companion for her daughter. She had even been able to pay back her parents for the money they’d lent her during her first years in L.A. But money was the only thing that had changed for them. Isabelle still had only one interest outside of work, and that was her daughter.

      She squeezed Jenny tightly to her now. “How was school?”

      “Fine. I made something.”

      “You did? How nice. May I see it?”

      Jenny shook her head. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

      “I see. A special present, then.”

      Jenny nodded. “We made it this morning. But I can’t tell you.”

      “That’s all right. I’ll see it when you bring it home.”

      Jenny nodded. “Miss Bright said, ‘Shh.’” She brought her forefinger up to her lips and made an exaggerated gesture of silence. “I don’t like it, they say. ‘Don’t talk.’”

      “Who says, Jenny? Miss Albright?”

      Jenny nodded emphatically. “Miss Bright says ‘Don’t talk,’ and I only asked... He was drawing, see, like this.” She made big circular motions with her right hand, as if drawing in air. “And he—” She pulled her hands apart as if ripping something.

      “He tore up his paper?” Isabelle wasn’t sure exactly what Jenny was talking about; she sometimes had trouble following her disjointed, repetitive way of speaking even after years of experience.

      Jenny’s dark head came down in the same hard nod. She was clearly feeling indignant. “Yes! And Miss Bright, she said, ‘Don’t talk.’ I don’t like that.”

      “I’m sure not. You just wanted to see what he was drawing, right?”

      “‘Whatcha doing?’” Jenny agreed. “‘Whatcha doing?’”

      Isabelle repressed a smile. This was Jenny’s favorite question of any-and everyone. No doubt some other child in her class had resented her asking it.

      “Well, I’m sure Miss Albright didn’t want you disturbing the other students. Apparently he didn’t like it when you asked him to let you see.”

      “He’s a poophead,” Jenny commented. Then she added, “Kevin said ‘He’s a poophead.’”

      “I bet Miss Albright didn’t like that.”

      “Uh-uh.” Jenny shook her head exaggeratedly. “She said, ‘No, no, no.’”

      “And what have you been doing since you came home from school?” Isabelle asked, deciding it was probably better to switch off this subject. Miss Albright would probably not appreciate Jenny’s implanting the forbidden word in her mind with further repetitions.

      “I gave Patience a ride.” Jenny leaned down and patted the dog firmly on the head.

      “Good. But don’t ride her around too much, or she might get sick.”

      “She likes to ride. Lady didn’t like to ride.”

      “No. Lady was getting a little old for riding.” Lady had been their first dog, a rather cantankerous old miniature poodle that had been Isabelle’s mother’s dog. Jenny had cried so much at leaving her when they moved to Los Angeles that Frances had given her to them.

      “Lady’s gone now. Lady’s in Heaven,” Jenny pointed out.

      “I know. And I’m sure she’s very happy.”

      “Lady’s in Heaven now. We took her—she went—weeks ago.”

      “Even longer than that.”

      “She went to the dog hospital. Now she’s in Heaven.”

      “That’s right. Why don’t you put up your bicycle and let’s go inside and see what Irma has fixed for supper?” Isabelle suggested.

      “Hot dog and chips.”

      “That’s what we’re having for supper?” Isabelle smiled. “I imagine Irma’s cooked something healthier than that.”

      “I had it. Hot dog and chips. That’s what I wanted.”

      “When you came home from school? That’s what Irma gave you for a snack after school?”

      Jenny nodded and started over to her cycle, saying again, “Hot dog and chips.”

      She walked her big tricycle into the garage and carefully stowed it away in its place beside Isabelle’s car. Isabelle waited for her, and they walked in the back door. Irma Pena, their housekeeper, turned and grinned at them, whisking off her apron.

      “Ah, Mrs. Gray. I’m glad you’re home. I’m sorry, but I have to run tonight.” Usually Irma was happy to stay longer with Jenny when Isabelle ran late in the evenings. “I have to pick Estrellita up at school. They’re practicing a play, and I have to be there at eight-thirty.”

      “I’m sorry I kept you late. We ran over at the studio today.”

      “Sí. No problem.” Irma waved away Isabelle’s explanation and apology. “I got plenty of time still. But I don’t like for Estrellita to have to stand around and wait, you know—you never know what can happen.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue, as she crossed the room and picked up her handbag and keys from the counter. “Terrible thing, when a girl isn’t safe at school.”

      “Yes, it is.”

      Jenny was frowning, listening to her. “I’m safe,” she said.

      “Of course you are, precious one.” Irma smiled at her. “I was talking about something else. Don’t you worry about it.”

      “Don’t talk to strangers,” Jenny told her solemnly. “Then you’re safe.”

      “That’s right. Never talk to strangers,” Isabelle agreed, waving to Irma as she bustled out the door.

      “I never do. Miss Bright told us. Strangers might—might—”

      “They might hurt you,” Isabelle supplied gently. “That’s why Miss Albright told you not to talk to them.”

      This was a lesson that Jenny had been taught regularly for years, both in school and out. She repeated the words often, proud that she had learned the lesson, but for all her words about it, Isabelle was not at all sure that Jenny would heed the advice. She was impulsive and affectionate, prone to hug everyone she met, and Isabelle could easily imagine her wandering off with anyone, hand in hand, while she faithfully repeated her maxim of “Don’t talk to strangers.” For that reason, she made sure that Irma was always there to pick Jenny up as soon as school was let out, and she never let Jenny play outside their fenced-in yard.

      Irma had left grilled tuna and a broccoli-and-rice casserole on the stove for them, and Isabelle dished СКАЧАТЬ