could have her parents all to herself. Even Picky-picky would be glad to see the last

of her.

As Ramona watched her mother fold

underwear for her to take away, she began to understand that deep down inside in the place where her secret thoughts were hidden, she

had never really doubted her mother’s love

for her. Not until now. . . . She thought of all the things her mother had done for her, the

way she had sat up most of the night when

Ramona had an earache, the birthday cake

she had made in the shape of a cowboy boot

all frosted with chocolate with lines of

white icing that looked like stitching.That

was the year she was four and had wanted

cowboy boots more than anything, and her

parents had given her real ones as well. She thought of the way her mother reminded

her to brush her teeth. Her mother would

not do that unless she cared about her teeth, 181

would she? She thought of the time her mother let her get her hair cut at the beauty school, even though they had to scrimp and

pinch. She thought of the gentle books about bears and bunnies her mother had read at

bedtime when she was little.

“There.” Mrs. Quimby closed the suit-

case, snapped the latches, and set it on the floor. “Now you are all packed.” She sat

down on the bed.

Ramona pulled her car coat out of the

closet and slowly put it on, one arm and then the other. She looked at her mother with sad eyes as she grasped the handle of her suitcase and lifted. The suitcase would not

budge. Ramona grasped it with both hands.

Still she could not lift it.

Hope flowed into Ramona’s heart. Had

her mother made the suitcase too heavy on

purpose? She looked closely at her mother,

who was watching her. She saw—didn’t

182

she?—a tiny smile in her mother’s eyes.

“You tricked me!” cried Ramona. “You

made the suitcase too heavy on purpose.

You don’t want me to run away!”

“I couldn’t get along without my

Ramona,” said Ramona’s mother. She held

out her arms. Ramona ran into them. Her

mother had said the words she had longed to hear. Her mother could not get along

without her. She felt warm and safe and com-

forted and oh, how good her mother smelled,

so clean and sweet like flowers. Better than any mother in the whole world. Ramona’s

tears dampened her mother’s blouse. After a

moment Mrs. Quimby handed Ramona a

Kleenex.When Ramona had wiped her eyes

and nose, she was surprised to discover that her mother had tears in her eyes, too.

“Mama,” said Ramona, using a word she

had given up as babyish, “why did you do

that?”

“Because I could see I couldn’t get any-

place arguing with you,” answered her

mother. “You wouldn’t listen.”