Janet looked at me expectantly.

“Good morning, Miss Janet,” I parroted.

“Good,” she said, without returning the greeting. Her hair was smoothed back in a knot, and she wore a pearl bracelet on her wrist. Because I’d tried on my mother’s pearl necklace more often than my mother knew, I recognized that the beads on Janet’s wrist had likely never seen the sea. I wanted to say so out loud but held my tongue.

“Miss Janet,” I said instead, approaching her timidly.

“Yes, Anna?” she replied. I didn’t bother correcting her.

“I want to see Ms. Tilly. Please. She is in hospital.” I would have explained more if Janet hadn’t turned her attention back to the calendar on the wall.

“I don’t know who Ms. Tilly is, dear. I’m sorry to hear she’s in the hospital. I think it would be wonderful to pray for her in church this morning.”

I was trying to find more persuasive words when Everett descended the stairs wearing a green tie and a white short-sleeved dress shirt. A crease sharp as a blade ran down the length of his slacks. His hair was parted on the side and had a remarkable sheen to it. He must have taken great care to pat every rogue strand into place. I could picture him lingering in front of a mirror to take in his carefully arranged image.

Shawna greeted him as she had Janet. He barely looked at her when he replied. I followed suit, as did Gabriel, who had burst into the kitchen with his shirt on inside out.

“Good morning, family,” Everett said, breathing in deeply. “Nothing like a good breakfast to begin our Sunday.”

I knew what to expect by then. Janet and Everett enjoyed fried eggs, orange slices, and toast and jam while we ate slices of white bread that might have stuck to the roof of my mouth all day had I not had a glass of water to wash it loose.

Once we children had washed the breakfast dishes, they piled us into their car. I did not bother telling them I was not Christian because I worried that they might make me stay behind with Everett or punish me for disobedience. I was also curious. My mother had said that the church she’d visited in Oklahoma had the most beautiful glass windows she had ever seen, as colorful and intricate as the painted mosques we attended on holidays.

Everett’s cologne filled the car, musky and overwhelming. Janet looked over her shoulder at us.

“Gabriel, roll up your window. The wind’s blown your hair every which way. You’re looking more like a sheepdog than a young man.”

Gabriel did as he was told, and the smell of cologne intensified. My head ached, and I thought how terribly untidy it would be if I were to vomit in the backseat of Everett’s car.