“Bobbi felt an odd, floating sensation, a suspension, an abeyance, as if she might not have to run any farther, she could stay hidden in Witchie’s house forever, finding food and whatever she needed in the dresser drawer in the attic—and all the time knowing the feeling was false, she was becalmed in the eye of a storm, something could happen at any moment to hurl her back into the cyclone outside. Moreover, hiding was not what she wanted of her life. She knew that, though she had no idea what s...he did want. Her future seemed less real than her trickster hope of being let alone. She ate hot sticky buns with Witchie for breakfast. Then the old woman sat on the hickory rocker while Bobbi cleared the few dishes off the table and rinsed the syrupy plates. Witchie said suddenly, “Bobbi.” She waited until Bobbi turned and looked at her, wet plate in hand, before she went on. “Leave them dishes,” she said. “It’s been a long time since anybody’s helped me with my hair. I wonder if you would.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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