The Mother Tongue by Teri Holbrook

Author:Teri Holbrook [Holbrook, Teri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-42223-1
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2001-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

15

Nadianna had been in the Greenes’ old house only once as a child, when her mother had taken over some food. She couldn’t remember now what the food was for—a death? a birth?—but she had been young enough to sit under a table next to the sofa where she had watched the shoes and hems of women move past. The Greenes had a red-and-brown braided rug that covered the living room floor, and she remembered running her fingers along the braids, trying to find the stitches so she could unloop it. Her mother had removed her before she could do damage, but she had never forgotten Mrs. Greene’s eyes on her as her mother tugged her out the door. Serious and considering eyes.

Mrs. Greene had been a widow when she died more than a year before, and the house had stood empty until Ron Goddard rented it. The grass had grown up in dry bunches, and the runoff from the overflowing gutters had streaked the light blue paint with dirt. Her photographer’s eye had always been intrigued by the house, juxtaposed next to the vivid red of the Alden place. She had taken several photos, huddled in a sniper’s position behind the railroad tracks that ran in front of the two houses, peeking out over the abandoned rails like a soldier not wanting to get shot. At the time, she had been attracted to the contrast between the houses—large, small; bold, demure. To her the houses were the two extremes of Statlers Cross. This was before the Nguyens moved to town. Her artistic perception had been forced to undergo a shift.

She pressed the baby’s carrier to her chest as she strained to hike up the front porch steps without dropping her portfolio. The outside light was off, and she was beginning to wonder if she had been wrong about Goddard’s invitation when the door swung open.

“Gracious, Nadianna, I forgot to turn on the light. Here, let me help you with the baby. He looks awfully heavy.”

Nadianna turned sideways, away from Goddard’s outstretched hands. “I’ve got him. He’s just about asleep. Let me set him down inside and I’ll bet he’ll drift right off. Here, you take this,” and she handed him the portfolio.

Stepping into the house, she was immediately greeted with the warm smell of cinnamon. The baby rubbed his nose as she gently lowered him to the floor and tucked his blanket around his chin.

“Smells nice,” she said. “Have you finished supper?”

“Oh, yes. I’m making up a spot of spiced tea for us. You do drink tea, don’t you? I could make you something else if you prefer.”

Nadianna shrugged, not wanting to admit that to her tea came in one style—plain with sugar. She had no idea what someone would spice tea with. “Tea’s fine. Not much, though. Just a taste would be good.”

He smiled and motioned her to the sofa as he left the room. The place was not at all as she remembered: no rug covered the

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