Read South of Shiloh for Free Online Page B

loyal.”
    “Ha,” Molly snorted. “So Mary is fickle.”
    “Perhaps,” Jenny said. “Now spell it.”
    As Molly used “tickle” as a basis for spelling “fickle,” Jenny’s eyes drifted back out the window; thinking of other relevant definitions that exceeded grade-school perfidies. Words like “deceive” or “treacherous,” which reminded her how her husband’s presence tended to exercise a governing influence on her…well…fantasies.
    Jenny turned back to the table and found her mother’s eyes studying her over a forkful of romaine, poised in midair. Lois said, “You’re distracted. Penny for your thoughts.”
    “That’s a cliché, we studied them in Mr. Magnan’s class,” Molly piped up.
    Jenny reached over and tousled her daughter’s unruly dark hair. So unlike her own, or Paul’s. Recovering briskly, she said, “I was thinking the weather in March is fickle. That winter is warmer and comes later.”
    Her mother continued to appraise her; then said, “It’s a fact. Minnesota is turning into southern Iowa.”
    Back home, they put on sweaters and sat on the deck off the kitchen, watching Molly and her friend Rachel kick a soccer ball. After one of those long silences full of invisible maneuvers, Lois asked casually, “Have you thought more about getting that medical history?”
    Jenny let the question slide by, staring across the backyard. Not really a yard, more a grassy gully, a low common area hemmed by ranks of new houses that resembled a beige quilt pattern of dollhouses. Then, down in the yard, Molly decided to impress Rachel with her ability to sneak up on a squirrel.
    “Look at her,” Lois said, “the way she stands statue-still, then creeps…”
    Jenny nodded. “I saw her actually get close enough to touch one.”
    “A squirrel? Is that a good idea?” Lois wrinkled her nose. “A squirrel could have rabies.” Since Jenny’s father died suddenly three years ago from an aneurysm, her mom had become a collector of exotic medical stories. Of possible scenarios. Hence, the current discussion that Lois wanted to initiate.
    Below the deck, the girls squealed as the alerted squirrel ran for the sanctuary of a spindly tree. As they darted around the corner of the house, Lois turned to Jenny, patiently.
    “So it’s time, don’t you think?” Lois said.
    “Paul and I have talked about how to break it to her,” Jenny said.
    “No telling what’s in his family background,” Lois said.
    “His parents died in a small-plane crash, Mom,” Jenny said pointedly.
    “Doesn’t mean there wasn’t heart disease, cancer, diabetes. You haven’t talked to him since…?”
    Jenny took a breath, held it until it started to hurt, and exhaled. “Five years ago, just before Molly started kindergarten, he called and asked if there was anything I wanted him to do. You know, with her starting school…I thanked him for calling and said I’d just as soon leave things the way they were.” Jenny narrowed her eyes. “He was never there, Ma. Now what? We spring him on Molly out of thin air?”
    “He’s never approached her, you’re sure?”
    “Positive. We’ve drilled her about strangers. She’s good at sneaking up on things. But she’s not sneaky.”
    “So, you don’t have to meet him face-to-face. Do it on the phone, to break the ice. It’s a legitimate request.”
    Jenny shivered slightly. “Now’s probably not a good time.”
    “The thing in the paper?” Lois arched an eyebrow and studied her daughter. “That’s just doing his job. That’s not real trouble.”
    Jenny smiled tightly. “You mean, not like the other time.”
    “Let me do it,” Lois said. “He’ll remember me. I’ll just call him up and explain it’s time to fill in a blank. All he has to do is provide a basic medical history; him, his parents. Just swab his mouth with a Q-tip, pop it in a baggie. No sense in having half a picture.”
    “Okay, Mom. Enough. I’ll think about it,” Jenny said with rising