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I told her Nick wouldn’t be there, so I sat with her each recess, assuring her he was fine and would be back in school as soon as he could. She never said a word, just stared at the ground like I wasn’t there.
    Normally, I piddled my way home after school, stopping to play or talk to the other kids who walked with me, but that day, I ran all the way.
    “How is he?” I asked the Judge.
    “Sore, but he’s going to be okay.”
    Relief flowed through me. “Can I go see him?”
    “I reckon. He’d probably like some company besides mine.” So I spent the whole evening in Nick’s room, telling him about the first day of school, about Lindsey, feeding him supper when he couldn’t move his arms without gasping from pain. I even retrieved the books I’d loaned him, found the place he’d marked, and read to him until he dozed off. I would have stayed there all night if the Judge hadn’t shown up and sent me to the house.
    The next morning Mama halted my headlong rush to the barn and hustled me into the car for our annual trip to buy school supplies. I took both my list and Nick’s. If Mama noticed that our basket was quite a bit fuller than usual, she didn’t protest.
    To my surprise, our second stop that morning was at the used clothing store. Mama went through it in a very business-like manner, picking out jeans, shirts, underwear, and shoes. All of the items were obviously used but still in excellent condition. She even bought a warm winter jacket. When we got home she cut all the string tags off the garments, folded them neatly, and looking me straight in the eye, held the pile out.
    “I cleaned the closets this morning, Alix, and found a bunch of your Uncle Vern’s old clothes. Would you take them out to Mr. Bob’s room and put them in the chest for me?”
    I think I loved my mother more at that minute than I ever had before. “Thank you,” I whispered, hugging her hard.
    It was a week before Nick recovered enough to do more than sit up. During that week the bare room was transformed into a cozy nest. First an old desk appeared, then a bookshelf which I promptly filled for him. Next a braided rug covered the bare floor and the single window was adorned with new plaid curtains.
    26

    The Sweet Gum Tree
    According to the Judge, my mother and aunts had gone into one of their cleaning frenzies and were tossing out everything in the attic. Since he hated to throw away anything still useful, he put it in Nick’s room. I doubt we fooled Nick for a minute, but he never said anything, and I lost count of the times I’d catch him touching the books or clothes with an expression of wonder on his face. No one had ever cared about him before either, except maybe Lindsey, and he wasn’t sure how to take it.
    We never heard a word from Frank Anderson while Nick recuperated, and I don’t think he ever hit Nick again, but Nick kept his promise to the Judge. The room in the barn was undisputedly his. Many nights over the next ten years I’d look out and see the gently glowing light spilling from the window and know he was there, safe. Sometimes, if it wasn’t too late, I’d sneak down and we’d talk or read together. And I finally got to ask Nick my question about babies.
    It was late in the evening on a Friday, about two weeks after Nick’s return to school.
    I’d seen the light come on in his room and, taking the new copy of Dune I was reading, went down to join him. While our school housed all the grades from kindergarten to senior high, I rarely had a chance to talk with him during the day. During recess, he would stand behind Lindsey, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who came too close. I had been admitted to this closed circle, but Nick didn’t talk much when other people were around. He would acknowledge me with a small nod, then return to his “on guard” position.
    We were sitting on his bed that night, legs crossed as we used the wall for a back support, our shoulders touching companionably as we read. He