But all the important talks in this house happen on the porch. So after the oven beeps, I shove the rooster in tail-first and take my chances.

“Can I join?” I say, rolling out onto the porch. They both turn to me, and I’d guess that neither of them has said a word to the other yet. They look like they’ve been having a staring contest—both their eyes watery from not blinking.

“Oh, Ellie, not with that wet head.”

“Listen to your mama, honey. You’ll catch your death out here.”

They’re in the orange-and-yellow–striped patio chairs on opposite ends of the porch, about as far away from each other as they can get. I move to the old rocking couch in the middle and grab the arm to pull myself over. Mom stands to help.

“Correction,” I say firmly. “I am joining you.”

I can see my breath and feel the ends of my wet hair turning crunchy with cold. But I lean back and let the couch rock me. This has been my favorite spot as long as I can remember—this big old ugly orange couch with springs that creak, and jiggle you back and forth like a baby in a bouncy seat.

Mom and Mema blow into their coffee.

Mom starts: “Mother, I only—”

Mema holds up a hand. “Now, I know what you only, and I know you meant well. But you lied to me, Alice, and that is not how I raised you.”

I shoot Mom a told you so look, and she does her eyebrow-waving thing at me.

“You want to help? You came to help? Then you say from the get-go that’s why you came. None of this sneaking-around business. You hear me?”

Mom nods.

Mema nods at no one and takes a sip from her GIVE ME STRENGTH mug. She hasn’t told us to go. Not yet.

My turn: “Last night—”

“Ellie”—Mema holds up a hand again—“I do not want to talk about last night.”

Now Mom again: “Mother, we have to. Ellie is just as worried as I am.”

“Ellie is a child, Alice. Children do not need to worry about their grandparents. They need to be roaming the malls or falling asleep in class or tweeting or texting or whatever it is they do these days.”

“I’m not much for the mall.”

“Well, that’s good, because we don’t have much of one here. This place is for old people, honey. We’ve got the lake, the church, and a bowling alley, and that’s about it by way of entertainment.”

“I like to bowl,” I say.

“I’ve already taken a leave of absence,” Mom adds.

Mema puts down her cup and holds up both hands.