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Lucy had stopped making even a pretense of listening to her Walkman. “You shouldn’t have bothered with the blanket. She won’t stay on it.”
Sure enough, the baby shot forward on her hands and knees. In seconds she was off the blanket heading for the front of the motor home.
“If you know so much, why don’t you take care of her?” Nealy enjoyed the novelty of being rude. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to snap at everyone who offended her?
The baby pulled herself to her feet, using the driver’s seat for support, and began cruising on two wobbly feet balanced by one small hand smeared with dried green peas.
“What do you think I’ve been doing since my mother died?”
Nealy felt terrible. “I didn’t know about your mother. I’m sorry.”
Lucy shrugged. “No big deal. Leave that alone, Butt.”
Nealy saw the baby had edged forward and was standing on her toes to reach for the gearshift. The infant turned toward her big sister, grinned, and plopped her fist into her mouth.
“I’m not calling her Butt,” Nealy said.
“Then how’s she going to know you’re talking to her?”
Nealy refused to get drawn into an argument. “I have an idea. Let’s give her another name. A nickname.”
“What kind of nickname?”
“I don’t know. Marigold.”
“That’s so lame. “
“It may be lame, but it’s better than Butt.”
“She’s doing it again. Move her.”
Nealy was getting tired of taking orders from a teenager. “Since you know her behavior patterns so well, it would probably be better if you watched her.”
“Yeah, right,” Lucy scoffed.
“I think it would be best. You’re obviously good with her.”
Lucy’s face reddened beneath her makeup. “I am not! I can’t stand the little brat.”
Nealy regarded the teenager closely. If she disliked the baby so much, why did she keep such a watchful eye out for her?
Baby Butt—Baby Marigold—reached for the gear-shift again. Nealy dashed forward, slipped her hands under the child’s arms, and carried her over to stand by the couch. The baby steadied herself with one hand and craned her neck toward her big sister, who was determinedly ignoring her. She let out a demanding squeal for attention.
Lucy bent her head and began picking at the blue nail polish on her big toe.
The baby shrieked again, even louder.
Lucy continued to ignore her.
Another shriek. Louder still.
“Stop it! Just stop it!”
The little one’s face crumpled at her sister’s anger. Tears pooled in her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered.
“Shit!” Lucy jumped up and stalked from the motor home, leaving Nealy alone with a heartbroken baby.
“Tell me it’s my imagination and that pinging coming from the engine isn’t getting worse.” Mat glanced over at Nealy, who was sitting in the passenger seat. They’d been on the road for about an hour, but he’d seemed occupied with his own thoughts, and it was the first time he’d spoken to her.
