Trade-off wasn't fair. Down in her cave in late fall, when the waves were so high and noisy that she could hardly hear herself, let alone the girl from Connecticut, Nola decided that if she had to trade the most important thing for Jenna to get better, she would trade her singing no matter how it hurt to give it up. At three, Jenna colored beautifully and made up silly little stories to go with her paintings. The pictures and stories came to her as easily as songs came to Nola, and the two of them performed them when Dad came.

No unexpected guests appeared at the door to stay, and when Mom finally returned, she no longer smoked cigarettes, not even the rolled ones. Mom said they had ruined her voice and she wanted to start singing professionally again. She ironed her hair again, and the two of them had what Mom called a "search and destroy party,” in which they found all the cigarettes in the house and drowned them in the toilet. Afterward, they gobbled down a whole Sara Lee cheesecake and Nola drank coffee for the first time. It was like being friends, not a mother and a daughter. If only Mom would agree to have a TV, they'd watch it together; the kids at school said that “The Love Boat” and “Diff'rent Strokes” were cool.

That afternoon, having the best time with Mom, Nola forgot about Jenna living elsewhere, but then felt guilty and promised God she'd never ever forget her sister again, especially since Jenna loved her so. She could now read the hands on the clock and would wait by the front door for Nola's visit when school was over and then cling to her all afternoon. Nola knew she didn't deserve Jenna's love, but it was she who talked Jenna into cooperating with whatever surgeries the doctors recommended. The nurses at Smithtown Hospital even allowed Nola to hang around past visiting hours, because Jenna was the only kid whose mother never came.