And there it was. After an hour of searching, there it was in the back corner of the bedroom closet. There, tangled in the deep shag of the carpet, its chain a complicated snare of a knot. Trudy, her bare knees being tattooed by the carpet, leaned down onto her elbows and pulled the shamrock necklace carefully away. She sat cross-legged on the floor and started at the knot. Mercy crawled over, knelt down right beside her, and put her head against her shoulder, watching every move. “You can fix it. Right, Trudy?”
“Not if I can’t use my arms. Shove over.” Mercy moved over a bit, folded over on herself, and rested her forehead on her knees. She stayed very still. Praying, possibly.
Finally, Trudy put her hand under Mercy’s chin and lifted it up. “There. See?” The necklace dangled off the end of her index finger, the green stone glinting in the light. Mercy held her hair up off the back of her neck and let her aunt put the necklace on.
“Never taking it off now, Trudy!”
“That’s right, pal.”
“Even when I take a bath.”
“Sure.”
“Thank you, Trudy.” Mercy said this with alarming seriousness, her small hand on her heart.
“No sweat.” Trudy pulled Mercy close for a bone-crushing squeeze. She hated her sister sometimes. Most of the time, really.