Around her the early-morning mountain rang with birdsong, the leaves of the trees glowing orange, then blue, then emerald green, the long grass mottled with lilies and sage grass, and as the screen door closed, huge wild turkeys rose up in an ungainly flap, or small deer skittered back into the woods, as if it were she who was the intruder. She ate while reading one of Margery’s books, and every other morning she baked a pan of fresh cornbread to take to the jailhouse. with the sun, splashed herself with icy water from the spring, fed the animals, climbed into whatever clothes she had laid out to dry and cooked herself a breakfast of eggs and bread, scattering the remaining crumbs to the hens and the red cardinals that gathered on the windowsill. She slept early and deeply, rose at 4:30 a. Because… we are not involved in that way.” “If you’re not involved in that way, girl, it’s because of your disgusting notions.” “I beg your pardon?” Annie began to put the plates down. “What did you just say?” “Bennett isn’t going to have any wretched children. “ Well, Bennett isn’t having any children, is he?” She looked up and saw Annie in the doorway, her eyes wide with delight at this turn of events. They’re dead things! Meaningless!” “They were heirlooms! They were for Bennett’s children!” Her mouth opened before she could stop it. You don’t care about dolls any more than you care about half the trinkets in this place. What were you going to do with two dolls, Mr. I really didn’t think it would matter.” “What has gotten into you, Alice?” Alice let her gaze fix on a point of the tablecloth just past her spoon. “You are grown men after all.” “They were Dolores’s dolls! My darling Dolores! She’d had Miss Christina since she was a child!” “ Then I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d even notice, to be honest.” She tried to raise a smile. They were just sitting there doing nothing and there are plenty of dolls left. She glanced at Bennett, who was staring at his plate.
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