chapter 26.3

Cindy tugged her through the door. “This is my bed.” She raced across to the bed farthest from the door and bounced her little rear on its pink- flowered quilt with a pink-and-white ruffled pillow sham and matching dust ruffle. A little girl’s fairy-tale bed.

In the far corner, near the foot of Cindy’s bed, sat an old wooden rocker. “That’s Jasmine’s bed, the yellow one in the middle,” Cindy said.

“’Cause she’s the middle sister, and the blue bed by the closet is Pammy’s. She likes blue. A lot.”

“She does, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” Cindy asserted. “You’re gonna tell us a story?” “I thought I would, if you want.”

“Sit here.” Cindy patted the smooth oak seat of the rocker. “It’s our story chair.”

Amy had a sudden picture of Brenda sitting in this very chair, holding one of these beautiful darlings to her breast to nurse. Another followed, of Riley holding a crying baby in the middle of the night while Brenda slept down the hall. The chair took on sacred proportions in her mind. She looked to Ril