top of page
Search

Excerpted Inspirations #174

  • Writer: Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
    Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
  • Apr 15
  • 0 min read

[Continued from last week. Months later, Jeremy finds a way to use the money given to him by Uncle Ralph. His mother has sold their house and they are moving into an apartment.] The night before the Talbots moved, six o’clock came and there was no sign of supper. Jeremy knew better than to ask his mother when they were going to eat. Next thing he knew, he’d be slaving over a hot stove. He helped himself to a pear. He had just finished it when Mum came into the kitchen. She had on the old clothes she wore when she was painting. She had pushed the sleeves of her baggy sweatshirt up out of the way but, as he watched, one slipped down. She shoved it up again impatiently. She looked grouchy and tired, as if she’d like to bite somebody. He did his best to fade into the woodwork. “Hey, Mum, what’s for supper?” Sarah asked from the doorway. That did it. “What makes you think there’s going to be any supper?” Mum said in a voice so icy that Jeremy felt himself shiver. That was only the beginning. As she launched into her tirade, Jeremy couldn’t help admiring her flashing eyes and the way the long, ferocious sentences came rolling off her tongue. He thanked his lucky stars he had not been such an idiot as to ask about supper, much as he had wanted to know. Then, to his own surprise, he found himself actually interrupting her. “Woman, hold your whisht,” he said. “Nobody will have to cook because I’m taking the whole family out for hamburgers. We’ll leave as soon as you two can make yourselves presentable.” Sarah stared at him. His mother gave him a strange look he could remember seeing once or twice lately. He shifted uneasily under her gaze, hoping she was not about to do something dumb like kiss him or start to cry. “Whatever you say, Mr. Talbot,” she said, her voice as soft as when she sang to Sarah. “I’ll hurry but I do need a shower. I feel as if I’ve spent the entire day grubbing around in King Tut’s tomb.” When she had vanished into the bathroom, Sarah, still staring at him, remarked, “You sounded like Daddy.” “I did not,” he retorted automatically. He hadn’t meant to. The words and the tone in which they were spoken had just come to him. Had he heard is father say them? He guessed he had. “You’d better get cleaned up, too, or you won’t get so much as a French fry out of me,” he growled. “Where did you get the money?” she pried. He had never shown them the money Uncle Ralph had pressed on him after the funeral. Now he was glad he had kept quiet about it. “Don’t you wish you knew,” he said, grinning in a way he knew would infuriate her. Jean Little, Mama’s Going to Buy You a Mockingbird (1984), pp. 164-166

 
 
 

Comments

  • Black YouTube Icon
  • Black Facebook Icon

The views expressed on this website are the opinions of their authors, and may not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any other author, agency, or organization, including Deborah's Tree.


©2020 by DEBORAH'S TREE. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page