We settle into a nice little routine at Aunt Jean’s. Between Andrew, Mom, and me, there are comings and goings all day and all night long. The only person who stays in place is Jimmy. For two weeks, there’s no sign of Ted. Two Thursdays come and go and no Ted. I feel free enough to go to choir practice, confident that there will always be somebody to protect Jimmy. The adult choristers fuss over and pet me. Being the only kid, I’m an oddity. A specialty. I feel more at ease with them than any other people in the universe.

My solo performances in the choir somehow seem to help my public speaking. It’s strange really. Everything is forward-looking — practicing carols for Christmas. Practicing my speech for November 11^th. I don’t really remember much about Thanksgiving, except at dinner Ted had too much to drink and made remarks that Mom said were very inappropriate. Something about the meal being the Last Supper. After that, Ted stopped coming over every Thursday.

You might think that I’m glad not to see his ugly face. I am, but now I have to worry every day of the week about when he might pop up. At least before, I could relax until Ted-day My mom says I’m like a border collie, always nipping at her heels and Andrew’s heels to make sure that someone is going to be at home for Jimmy. Always.

On two Saturdays, Jimmy and I walk over to St. Joseph’s Hospital. My mom has arranged with Aunt Jean that she’ll sit in the lounge at one o’clock and Jimmy and I will be outside on the lawn. I count up five storeys and along to the end window. I point out Aunt Jean to Jimmy and he is so excited. We wave and wave and do goofy stuff on the lawn, like somersaults and play sword fighting. We try to put on a show for Aunt Jean to amuse her. She looks like an old lady up there sitting in a rocking chair watching us but, of course, she’s in a wheelchair. My mom says that Aunt Jean is recovering well from her operation, but she’ll have to rest when she comes home.

Her homecoming day is crazy with housecleaning. Jimmy picks up on the excitement, even though we don’t tell him what is going to happen. Andrew’s in charge of moving the furniture and I dust and vacuum. Jimmy tears around the place like a terrier, getting into trouble and in the way.

My mom makes homemade bread and Scotch broth for nourishment. There’s a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies and some old-fashioned current scones. And butter tarts.

Everything looks quite sparkly for Aunt Jean’s arrival. Jimmy and I cut some snapdragons that are growing beside the house and have managed to escape the frost. We arrange them in a pint milk bottle and place them on the kitchen table. It all looks very homey.

Ted picks up Aunt Jean in his car and brings her home. He and Andrew make a seat with their hands and lift Aunt Jean up the stairs and onto the verandah. Once there, she shoos them away.

“I can enter my own house under my own steam, thank you very much.” She wavers at the threshold of the front hall, gripping the doorjamb for support.

Jimmy is sitting on the stairs playing jacks.

“Mm-ahn!” he bellows. I grab his braces and hold on, fearful that he will run at Aunt Jean and knock her down. She’s so skinny and pale, her legs like Popsicle sticks peeking out from a black wool skirt. But her face softens when she sees Jimmy and tears stream down her face. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear the words because of Jimmy’s bawling.

“Sit down Jimmy!” I haul him down on the last stair and half sit on him to keep him in place. “Jimmy, let Aunt Jean get into the kitchen! If you knock her over, you’ll land her right back into the hospital and we can’t afford that, can we?” I can hear a chair scraping on the linoleum in the kitchen as Aunt Jean settles.

Andrew comes back to the vestibule for Jimmy. He lifts him in the air, clamping Jimmy’s flailing arms to his side. Then he swoops Jimmy’s face down close to Aunt Jean’s head. She grabs that poor boy’s neck and smothers him with kisses. Wet, teary kisses.

Jimmy bellows.

“Mommy has a hurt,” says Andrew. “Gentle. Gentle.” Andrew lets go of one of Jimmy’s hands and guides it to Aunt Jean’s shoulder. Jimmy paws at her shoulder making sure she’s real. My mom helps Jean off with her hat and coat. Her galoshes.

“Will you stay for dinner, Ted?” my mother asks. She says it coldly just to be polite.

“Much as I’d love to, I have things to do.”

I can see Aunt Jean muscling herself together and sitting up straight. “Thank you, Ted, for bringing me home. It’s so much better to be in my own house. I’ve been looking forward to my own bed.” Aunt Jean stresses the word own. It’s her new favorite word.

That night, it seems strange to be back in my own bed on my own side of the shared wall. Just me and my very own mom. In the morning, it’s luxurious to stretch like a cat, touching right to the bottom of the bed with my toes and wiggling them under the blankets. It’s all so new that it takes me a while to realize that something has changed in the night. The light’s too bright and too soft in my room.

Snow! The first snowfall! I rip open the curtains. The street is silent and lumpy and clean and so white like someone has rolled out a cotton batting carpet. My heart leaps high with excitement. There are things to be thankful for. I mean, Aunt Jean’s home. Andrew’s like Jimmy’s new big brother looking out for him, only better, because he pays rent. I close my eyes tight. Thank you, God.

When I open my eyes, I see what I didn’t see before.

Boy, oh boy. Ted meant it last night when he said he had things to do.

There’s an orange and white sign right in the middle of Aunt Jean’s lawn. Some time after we’d gone to bed, Ted pounded a for sale sign into Aunt Jean’s frosty grass!

I feel a spasm in my stomach so deep and so cold, it travels all the way to my toes.

Our Jimmy will be moving away from me.

It’s true. I have to believe it. Ted is selling Aunt Jean’s house right out from under her! How can he do this? To his own sister? And her so sick and just home from the hospital!

Bastard.

Ted’s a bastard. And I don’t care anymore who knows it.