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who came was Luke Talley. I remember how he walked over to Daddy and started talking, words I couldn’t hear, and how his shoulders slumped after he heard what Daddy had to say. He stood there in the rain, his hat wet and droopy, shaking his head just like Daddy had done. Luke said something else and Daddy replied, nodding toward the truck as he did so.
    Through my tears I could see Luke glance at me, his face looking like I felt. He stared at me for a second and then tugged at the front of his hat in a sad hello. I gave him a nod back and put my arm protectively around Gemma.
    That was the day that Gemma came to live with us.

Chapter 4
    That drive home after the fire was the longest of my life, with Gemma and Daddy both sitting still and quiet beside me.
    Getting home wasn’t much better, with Momma crying and Daddy pacing the porch. Once Momma got hold of herself, she started rushing about fixing things for Gemma, which I think she did mostly to keep her mind busy. But Gemma didn’t want any apple tart or milk. She didn’t want a bath or a pair of my pajamas. She didn’t want anything, and she didn’t say anything. H y er silence worried me more than I’d ever been worried.
    I helped Gemma out of her sooty clothes and into my best nightgown. She never said a word until I fluffed up my pillow and steered her into my bed.
    “This is your bed,” she mumbled to me.
    “So?”
    “Where will you sleep?”
    “Right there beside you,” I said, pointing to a makeshift bed Momma had made on the floor out of a couple sheets and blankets. It was supposed to be for Gemma, that bed on the floor, but I wouldn’t have it. If anyone needed a good sleep that night, it was Gemma. “That way I’ll be here if you need anythin’.”
    “The floor’s hard,” Gemma said. “You won’t sleep.”
    “I can sleep anywhere. When the horse was sick, I slept in the barn.”
    She didn’t argue any more after that. She was too tired to, I figured.
    The next two days were a blur of phone calls and people dropping by to give their sympathies. A lot of people brought over food too, sometimes including a little something sweet for me and Gemma. But Gemma wouldn’t eat barely anything. She was quiet and strange, something Momma told me probably wouldn’t go away for a while. She told me I had to be patient.
    I couldn’t get rid of the pain in my stomach. It hurt all the time, but especially when I saw Gemma’s face or thought about her poor momma and daddy. Momma told me my stomachache would go away eventually too, just like Gemma’s strangeness.
    The funeral was on a Tuesday. It didn’t rain at all. Instead it was a beautiful day, sunny and not too warm. I’d always thought rain was more appropriate for the gloominess of a funeral. The Reverend Wright from Gemma’s church said some nice words about Miss Opal and Mr. Joe and told us that we should be rejoicing because they were with Jesus. I figured that was true, but I still felt bad for Gemma. After all, she’d been left behind.
    There weren’t too many white people at the funeral, and those of us who were there stood on one side of the graves while the colored people stood on the other. Except, of course, that Gemma stood with us. Gemma didn’t have any other family that anyone knew of, so it was only her church family who were there to tell her they were sorry. She still wasn’t talking much, so my momma thanked the well-wishers for her.
    Luke was one of the last people to come up to Gemma. “Your daddy helped me fix up my house. He was a fine man, and I’m glad I got to know him.” He put his hand on Gemma’s shoulder and then looked at me. “You’re a good friend to her. You keep on takin’ care of her now, ya hear?”
    “I will,” I reassured him. “I always will.”
    Some of the people at the funeral came by to have supper on our lawn, but it was the saddest supper I’d ever had, and no one ate much.
    By the time things got settled down, we were all tuckered,