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she looked forward to Sunday dinners with her immediate family. But, this thing with Neema was weighing heavily on her mind. Neema loved her two children. At least that’s what Hattie wanted to believe. How was it that she could run off andleave them for days at a time and not even call to check on them? The thought nagged at Hattie, making her feel exhausted. The sooner she could get everybody fed, packed off, and headed back to their own space, the sooner she could get off her feet and relax. “I miss when Glen used to come with you.”
    â€œYeah, well, you know how it is being married to a doctor, Mama.” Myra was talking, but her mind was really on her dog, Princess. She was worried about whether Glen would remember to feed her. “Their first love is their job. Glen doesn’t like to do much on his off-days. Golf and playing videos; that’s about it.”
    â€œEven doctors need to spend quality time with their wife and family.” Hattie took up a spoon to stir her mushroom risotto. She was sure that she’d made enough. Thank goodness, she’d made the salad earlier. Of her two daughters, Myra loved to bake. The lemon coconut cake she’d brought down with her would go well with some ice cream. “Can you set the table for me?”
    â€œTell me about it.” Myra fetched plates and arranged them along the table. Silverware came next. “I really can’t complain about Glen. I realized what I was getting myself into before I got married.”
    One of the twins opened the sliding door and ran into the kitchen. “Nanny, Brandon called me a bad word!”
    â€œHe what?” Hattie feigned anger. That child could be a cussing fool and she knew it. “You tell Brandon I said one more bad word and I’ll be using a bar of soap to wash out his mouth.”
    Hattie refused to get her feathers ruffled up about it, but Myra didn’t think the same. In a split second she was at the sliding door again with strong words for her nephew.
    â€œBrandon, if I hear one more complaint about you, I will come out there with a belt and wear your little tail out. Don’t believe me? Try it!”
    Brandon didn’t back down. “Go to hell. I ain’t afraid of you either!”
    Myra’s eyes bugged as she gasped. “Oh, no, he didn’t just talk to me like that. Oh, hell no. Let me find a belt for his behind.”
    â€œMyra, please.” Hattie stopped her. “He’s showing out for his cousins.” Granted, the boy had no business talking to his aunt that way, but the last thing Hattie needed was Myra beating on him. “Don’t worry ’bout it. I’ll deal with ’im later.” She didn’t want to have to hear Neema’s mouth about Myra disciplining her son.
    â€œMama, I don’t let my own kids talk to me like that.”
    â€œI know, I know.” Hattie gave her a pleading look. “The boy is going through something right now. That’s why he’s acting out. Don’t worry; let me get to the bottom of it.”
    â€œOh, he’s gonna be going through somethin’ when I get finished with his behind. Talking to me like that. Humph.”
    Hoping to quell Myra’s anger, Hattie stopped what she was doing and moved to the door. “Brandon! You come here. Now.”
    The boy stood stubbornly rooted. “For what?”
    Hattie gave him the look she used to use on her own kids when they were younger. Myra and Neema Jean were her only two, but not her first child. God was still punishing her for what had happened to her first child. Neema Jean was that punishment. Maybe even Brandon, too.
    Raised in a rural part of Alabama, overly strict parents had prompted Hattie to run away from home at the age of fifteen, right into the arms of twenty-year-old Macon Winston. Things were lovey-dovey perfect until the baby was coming and Macon skipped out. Hattie still remembered how hard it was to