Miss Julia's Marvelous Makeover by Ann B. Ross Read Free Book Online

look at the burn. From the way she was carrying on, trembling and crying and moaning, I’d expected to see blisters at least, but it was a quickly fading red spot about an inch in length. My sympathy was fading as fast as it was.
    I clasped her arm and held it still. “Calm down, Trixie, and let Lillian put some salve on it. Ice is not the proper treatment.”
    â€œBut Meemaw always—”
    â€œI don’t
care
what Meemaw does. Hold still. Lillian, smear some on.”
    She did, and Trixie almost immediately dried up, amazed at the soothing quality of the salve. Lillian then put a gauze bandage on the area and held it on with adhesive tape, while Trixie sniffled and wiped tears away with her other arm.
    â€œThere now, Miss Trixie,” Lillian said. “That’ll help it heal real quick.”
    With a long, wet sniff, Trixie said, “I got to go lay down.”
    And away she went without a word of thanks to Lillian or an apology for disrupting the meal to the rest of us.
    Lloyd and Sam had been quiet during this medical procedure, Sam helping Lloyd wipe up the spilled water and clean the table of the remains of his meal. In fact, Lloyd had gotten another plate, refilled it, and sat now calmly eating his dinner.
    I thanked Lillian as she repacked the kit, and she and I exchanged wry glances. “I guess,” Lillian said, “she don’t want no dessert either.”
    â€œWell, I do,” Lloyd said. “It’s all so good, I could eat second helpings of everything, which is what I’m doing.”
    We all laughed and the tension eased. “I’m sorry that she got burned,” I said, almost whispering in case my voice carried up the stairs, “but who could imagine she’d reach over a candle?”
    Lillian turned at the door. “I won’t light the candles no more, jus’ in case she forget.”
    â€œNo need for that, Lillian,” I said. “She won’t be here long. Besides, I like candlelight.”
    â€”
    After dinner, dreading every step, I walked upstairs to see about Trixie. As undemanding a guest as she was, she seemed to be taking up all my time.
    I tapped on the door of her room, but, getting no response, I eased in. “Trixie? How are you feeling? How’s your arm?”
    She was not on the bed, but in it, her dress thrown over the chair and her sandals left in the middle of the floor. She moaned, pulled the covers over her head, and turned away from me.
    â€œTrixie?” I said, sitting on the side of the bed. “You need to wake up now. I think we can go on to the bus station in a few minutes, so we’ll have plenty of time to get your ticket. You mightwant a snack from the vending machines before the bus comes, too. Let’s get on up now.”
    â€œI can’t,” she mumbled.
    â€œDoes your arm still hurt? We can put more salve on it if it does.”
    She shook her head against the pillow.
    â€œWell, is there anything else wrong? Tell me, so we can fix it before you start your trip.”
    She buried her face in the pillow and began sobbing. “I wanna go ho-o-ome.”
    Well, I wanted her to go, too, so I said, “Then jump up, so you can catch your bus.”
    She turned to lie flat on her back, a look of pure misery on her face. “I can’t!”
    â€œOf course, you can. The burn is not that bad. It won’t keep you from traveling.”
    â€œNo!” she yelled, as if I were hard of hearing. “I
can’t
go home. They’s nobody there! They went off and le-e-eft me up here.”
    â€œWhat? I don’t understand. Aren’t your grandparents at their farm in Georgia?”
    â€œThey
sold
it!” Trixie almost screamed, behaving as if she were reminding me of something I already knew and was too dense to understand. “They sold the farm and moved to
Florida
!”
    â€œWhen?” I asked, almost as befuddled as Trixie thought I was. “I