Chapter 3

I picked up, and my father tore into me before I could say a word.

"The neighbors said you left with your aunt?"

"Did a mule kick your head or what?"

"Get rid of her, keep her far away from this family."

"She couldn't hack it up in the mountains, so she's come sniffing around for money!"

"We don't have any to lend her."

My uncle's voice cut in behind him.

"And we wouldn't lend it even if we did."

Listening to them, a cold feeling crept up my spine.

My aunt hadn't done a single thing to wrong any of them. She'd only taken responsibility for herself and chosen her own life.

And them? They'd gotten nothing out of her, so they were furious.

What gave them the right?

"Dad."

I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Aunt Hildegarde never said anything about borrowing money. She only wants to throw a birthday party for Grandma, to finish what's been left undone."

"Bull! That's just her cover! She—"

"That poor husband of hers must've landed in some trouble, you'd better—"

I hung up.

My aunt looked at me, and her eyes finally went red.

"Trudy, you don't have to do this for me—"

"Aunt Hildegarde."

I cut her off.

"When we're done eating, you're staying with me."

"I'm your family. Wherever I am, that's your home to come back to."

She sat stunned for several seconds, her shoulders giving a small tremble.

I laid my hand on her shoulder.

She'd carried it alone for twenty years.

That night, I brought her back to my rented apartment.

The two of us squeezed onto my bed, all five feet of it.

She talked about when I was little, how I used to clutch a lump of coal and swear it was chocolate, her eyes crinkling up as she laughed.

The bed wasn't roomy, not by any stretch. But it was warm.

The next morning she was up early, the smell of porridge drifting out of the kitchen.

"Aunt Hildegarde made you some porridge, millet and red dates."

"My Trudy works so hard. Let your aunt build your strength back up."

Sunlight came in through the window and fell across her apron.

In that moment I thought: with her in this home, it felt good.

I drank a big bowl of the porridge she'd cooked.

She sat across from me, smiling as she handed me a napkin.

"Good, isn't it?"

"Your uncle loves my porridge too."

She cupped the bowl, steam rising around her.

"He has a bowl every morning before he heads to the mine."

Something in my chest dropped.

The mine.

The only thing I could picture was a miner.

Uncle Mark was middle-aged now. Working at a mine?

Hard, dangerous work. Had he been through a lot too?

I was about to ask something when my phone rang.

One look at the screen and the back of my neck went numb.

Supervisor Dickerson.

She was in her fifties, maybe going through menopause, her temper swinging without warning.

She especially liked picking on young women with no connections, just to vent whatever she was feeling.

I picked up, and before I could even get out a "hello," her voice came crashing down.

"Trudy Harrington, what did you do with last week's report? The numbers are all wrong!"

"Do you have any idea how badly the boss chewed out our whole department over your little mess?"

My hand was a little sweaty around the phone.

"Supervisor Dickerson, the numbers in that report were done exactly the way your email laid out—"

"You're talking back now?"

Her voice climbed higher.

"I send you the specs and you just copy them down? Don't you have a brain? Can't you use your own judgment?"

"What are we even paying you for!"

I pressed my lips together, and the porridge suddenly tasted like nothing.

I kept my voice as low as I could.

"I'll come in right now and fix it."

"Fix it? Nice and easy for you to say. Because of your mistake the whole project's behind schedule!"

"Irresponsible. A useless waste of space."

"Did your family teach you nothing at all?"

Only when the line went dead did I notice my hand was shaking.

My aunt sat across from me, her eyes full of concern.

"Trudy, your boss at that company, how can she bully people like that?"

I set the phone face down on the table and forced a smile at her.

"It's fine, Aunt Hildegarde. This is just what work is like. Nobody gets through it without swallowing a little."

"You get used to it. Grow a thicker skin and you push through."

Before my aunt could answer, the phone rang again.

Supervisor Dickerson again.

"Who told you you could hang up first?"

"You wait for me, your supervisor, to hang up first. That's basic respect. Were you raised with none at all?"

"Trudy Harrington, you listen to me."

"Before tomorrow's morning meeting, you redo every single report from the past three months. If it's not finished, don't bother coming in!"

"All of them?"

I went numb all over.

"That's three months' worth. The workload's too much. There's no way I can finish—"

"Can't do it, then get out!"

"Trudy Harrington, if you can't handle the job, go home and get married while you're young. Stop wasting company resources."

She was still going, but my aunt reached over and took the phone.

"Hello. This is Trudy Harrington's aunt, Hildegarde Harrington."

The other end went quiet for a second.

"As of right now, my niece is formally resigning."

My aunt's voice was still so gentle, yet it carried something I'd never heard from her before, the easy composure of someone long used to being in charge.

"If there's any amount owed in compensation, I'll cover it."

"I'll have my lawyer contact you."

She hung up, handed the phone back to me, then looked at me with a trace of apology in her eyes.

"Trudy, I shouldn't have taken it upon myself to decide."

"But I couldn't stand to watch you waste your youth in a place like that."

I held the phone, my mind still not catching up.

"Aunt Hildegarde, you just said compensation, a lawyer—"

That wasn't the kind of thing a farmwoman from the mountains would say.