Robbins looked across Miz Rose's breakfast table at the
toddler.
Cute kid.
Tasha cut her eyes and smiled, a natural flirt.
Her daddy's gonna need a shotgun when this one gets
older, he thought—then remembered she didn't have a
daddy.
Daintily pinching the Cheerio between forefinger and
thumb, Tasha offered him a cereal circle. Mouth open, he
lowered his head and she dropped the Cheerio inside. He
kissed her fingers in return, a loud smack that drew
laughter.
"Don't you be encouraging her," Miz Rose said. "Tasha,
you eat that cereal. And use yore spoon."
The child jammed the spoon into the bowl, spilling more
cereal onto the highchair tray, then lifted the mounded
spoon toward her mouth.
"That's right." Miz Rose turned back to the sink and
tackled the older kids' breakfast dishes. Sunlight
reflected off the glass beads in her hair. Overnight, she'd
braided her hair into a bunch of cornrows, a sure sign she
was worried.
Robbins sipped his coffee, watching both Tasha and her.
Two months ago, when he and Child Services dropped the
toddler off with Miz Rose, the kid had been a clingy, weepy
mess. "Tasha seems happy."
"She just need to be where folks ain't angry."
"Don't we all?" Robbins considered the mood at home. The
tension level there needed to drop below an "orange" threat
level, but how was he supposed to change Sharon's attitude?
"Most peoples forget to think about the other person,"
Miz Rose said.
Robbins sat back. The woman had an eerie ability to say
things that mirrored his thoughts.
Miz Rose had a point. How often did he consider Sharon's
feelings?
What would make her happy? Other than him taking out the
trash and cutting the grass? He slurped more coffee. To be
fair, how much of the tension in the house was his fault?
Miz Rose dried her hands and stepped across the kitchen.
The place—the house and the furniture—was old
and worn, but other than the area right around the
highchair, it was clean. She wiped Tasha's grubby face and
hands, then plucked the toddler from the high chair and
kissed her chubby cheek.
Tasha leaned into Miz Rose, molding against her body,
stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked—the picture
of contentment.
"I ‘spect you didn't come over here for my coffee or to
check on this chil'. You hear anything about George Beason?"
