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Ellie and Roger lean into the table. J.R. and I watch Knox. She glides the knife through the blue and pink icing, cutting a perfect square. I’m nervous, and I’m not sure why. I know what the cake will reveal.
Knox lifts the slice away from the cake, and her eyes grow wide. Roger and Ellie’s eyes are wide, too; and as their cheers erupt around me, I feel like crying with happiness.
The pink cake seems to glow as it sits on its plate like some type of trophy. A girl. Another girl. Poor J.R. Outnumbered by three females. He isn’t disappointed, though. He loves his girls. All three of us.
J.R. lifts Knox into his arms. “A baby sister. Does that make you happy?” he asks her.
“It makes me very happy,” Knox says, and then she looks at me. “What will you name her?”
I shrug. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” Roger’s voice comes loud from the midst of everyone’s smiles and laughter. It’s deep, and it catches our attention, bringing us all to silence. He looks different than he did just a few moments ago. He sounds different. I can’t be certain, but I think that I see anger behind his fading blue eyes.
We’re all looking at him now; the room is quiet. Maybe we’re waiting for the punchline.
“Can’t leave the farm to a girl,” Roger says. He folds his arms across his chest like a child, and it’s now obvious that he is upset. He wanted a boy—a boy to inherit the farm.
“You don’t mean that, Roger,” Ellie says gently.
I think I’m beginning to understand why she looks so exhausted. I wonder how often his mood changes. I wonder how nasty he’s been to her recently. It’s the tumor, I’m sure, but still, it doesn’t lessen the blow. Even I can’t fight feeling upset and disappointed by his reaction.
“What’s going to happen to the farm, Ellie?” Roger asks, and his voice is raised. He speaks to her like she’s a child.
I look at J.R., and I can see a rage starting to build behind his blue eyes. The air in the room is suddenly thick, and I’m not exactly sure what to do. J.R. puts Knox down, and I take her hand.
“Knox, get your cake. We’ll go outside,” I say to her softly. I’m not sure what is about to go down, but I know that I don’t want Knox to be present for it.
“You don’t have to go. I’ll go.” Roger stands up, and then he storms out of the barn, not giving anyone a chance to say anything more to him.
Ellie looks at us with sad and apologetic blue eyes. “It’s the tumor, J.R.” I see tears in her eyes. “It’s not him. Okay?”
“It is him, Mom,” J.R. says. “He just doesn’t have a sensor on his damn mouth anymore. Not that he did before, but he definitely doesn’t now.” J.R. is shouting now.
“J.R., don’t,” I urge. “You’ll make it worse getting angry. It’s okay.” I look at Ellie. “It’s okay.” Knox stands quietly beside me.
Ellie nods at me, and then she smiles. “I’m really happy for you. For all of you.”
J.R. thrusts his hand through his hair, and then he storms upstairs. Ellie wipes a tear from her cheek, and then she leaves the barn, too. Suddenly, it’s just Knox and me. Alone. Not unusual, I guess. This is how we have spent most of her life. Still, we stand quietly, just staring at the cake on the table. I’m not sure either of us knows what to do or say, so I do the only thing I can think to do.
“Sit down,” I tell Knox as I sit down at the table, too. I hand her a fork, and then I take one for myself. I stick my fork right into the middle of the cake, and I shovel a big piece from the center, cramming it into my mouth.
“Mom, get a plate.” Knox looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“I’ve got one.” I point to the sheet that the cake is on and smile. Knox’s concerned frown slowly turns into a smile, and then she laughs at me. “Get a fork, Rosie!” I urge her.
Knox picks her fork up and then, hesitant at first, digs into the cake, too. She shoves the pink cake and cream cheese icing into her mouth, smiling at me as the icing smears across her face. I laugh at her, thinking about her first birthday and how she smashed her cupcake into her mouth with her chubby hands.
She looks so grown up now with her long, dark hair; big, blue eyes; and perfect complexion. She’s beautiful. My girl. I wish I could protect her from everything that is wrong in this world, but I know that I can’t.
We sit silently for a few minutes, shoving cake into our mouths as though our lives depend on it. Then, Knox looks up at me. “Mom, is Grandpa going to be okay?”
I swallow my cake, take a sip of water, and then put my fork down. I lean back in my chair a little, and I look at her gently. “You know he’s sick, Knox.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t normally say mean things like that.”
“No, but the sickness he has—sometimes, it makes him say things that he doesn’t mean.”
“Why can’t a girl run a farm?” she asks me thoughtfully. It’s funny to me that of all the things Roger said, this is the one thing that stood out to her.
