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Show in my father's house/ 101 "I don't know what to do, Rulon," she whimpered, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want to leave Jake. But I can't leave Jeannie. I'd worry about her all night long." My father smiled and reached through the window to pinch my cheek. "Then go with Dorothy Jeanne. She'll take good care of you. Won't you Princess? Take good care of your mother for me." He kissed me, then embraced my mother again. "Helga will be here with Jake, and she can do more for him right now than even you can. You go ahead, and I'll see you when this mess blows over." We slept in Van Helm's basement, north of the city. The cold dank wall was drafty on the crown of my head and the place was shadowed with cobwebs. I had never slept in a strange house before. The toddlers whose mothers had stayed at home seemed to cry all night. None of us slept well and morning came slowly. I listened for the birds from the first suggestion of light filtering from the high windows. At last, with gentle warmth on my face, I slept. The next thing I knew, Sister Van Helm bustled around a large low table with a big pot of oatmeal. With the sun shining and food before me, I was secure enough to return to my true, spoiled self. "I don't want mush," I declared. "I want French toast." Sister Van Helm looked down her nose at me. My mother blushed and made nervous little clicks with her tongue as she |