“Is she the lady from the bad picture?”
Silas’s face tightened.
“Junie.”
“What? Nana said people were being dumb.”
I tried not to laugh.
“Nana sounds wise.”
“She is,” Junie said. “She says Uncle Silas looks scary because God made him big enough to carry everybody else’s heavy stuff.”
I felt my throat close.
Silas turned away and pretended to study soup labels.
Junie continued, because children have no respect for emotional privacy.
“He takes care of Nana since her hip got bad. And me after school because my mom works at the clinic. And he fixes Mrs. Alvarez’s steps. And he gets cats out of storm drains.”
“Junie,” Silas muttered.
“And he cries during animal rescue shows.”
“Junie.”
“What? You do.”
I looked at him.
His ears had gone red beneath his gray hair.
For the first time in two days, I felt something loosen inside my chest.
