My mind was spinning, trying to process. “Your mom didn’t know you’d applied?” Ayisha shook her head and I felt something from her I never thought I’d feel—vulnerability. It was heavy. My throat closed and I realized I was teetering on the edge of tears. And I wasn’t entirely sure why. I swallowed and asked quietly, “I mean, she was proud of you . . . wasn’t she?”

She relaxed her hold on the bedspread but still held on. “She was a lotta things for me. Proud was one. But pragmatic won out.” She dropped the bedspread to the mattress. “Someone had to watch the wonder twins while Mamma was at work. And that someone had to be me.”

I filled in the blanks. “You withdrew.”

“I withdrew.” Her eyes met mine, sharp and unyielding. “You’re welcome.”

I reeled. But before the beginnings of a reply could start to form in my head, she nodded to the bed.

“I have a headache. Finish up, will ya?”

She didn’t wait around for me to respond before she walked out, leaving me alone in the room with a swarm of questions that were going to have to wait.

Nineteen

“Are those camels?”

Arthur pointed at the small, dimly lit pen where indeed three bored camels were waiting for the tiny humans known as children to be placed on their mighty backs for a small fee as excited parents took photos and videos on their phones.

“Yep,” I said, doing my best to keep myself out of the funk that had hit me on and off since my earlier encounter with Ayisha. I didn’t want anyone to ask me if I was all right; there had been enough of that already and I didn’t have the answer.

But if I kept brooding on the situation, I would wind up being a killjoy for the evening’s excursion and that wasn’t cool, either. Brody-and-Mia confrontation aside, last night’s parade had been very close to successful, helped in part by the freaky synchronicity of the actual experience with my online creation.

So I pulled a card from Grandma Jo’s hostess deck and pasted on a smile from the moment our quartet—Arthur, Aunt Esha, Grandma Jo, and me—assembled for our journey to Chickasha.

And it mostly worked. I did feel better.

At least in the moment.

Tonight, however, as I lay in my temporary bed, staring at the ceiling of my temporary room, would likely be another story. Then I could concentrate on what to do with the info bomb Ayisha’d dropped.

But that was hours away.

The air was brisk as the four of us walked around the Chickasha Festival of Light, which was a legitimately cool Christmas experience.