Mothers and Daughters

“Hold still, Robert,” Dinah said.

Bob sighed but obediently stopped squirming. “Mom, I wanna go play catch with Scotty and Clay.”

“You promised.” Dinah separated the lock of hair into three sections and set about braiding it carefully.

“I’m gonna look like a girl,” Bob said.

Dinah dropped a section, and the entire braid unraveled. She had to bite back a curse. “Come on, sweetie. I don’t have any daughters whose hair I can play with, and you have such long hair...”

“I could cut my hair and look like Clay.” Bob drummed a fast roll on his knees, impatient.

“You want to rob your mama of some innocent fun?” Dinah cooed.

“Mom...”

Carolyn poked her head into the bus. “Hi, Mrs. Summers. Robbie - Scotty and Danny want a third baseman.”

Bob perked up, and Dinah lost control of his hair again. “We have enough for a full game?”

“Yeah. Our team is fielding.”

Bob wriggled free of his mother’s grip and turned. “Can’t I go play, Mama? Please?”

Dinah sighed and threw her hands up. “Go on, child.”

Bob pecked a kiss on her check and darted past Carolyn, off of the bus. Dinah stared at her hands for a moment, then said,

“You don’t have any dolls do you, Carolyn?”

It was a fruitless question. Dinah didn’t spend nearly as much time on the road with her sons as she’d like, but she’d been with them long enough to know that the boys thought of Carolyn as the fifth brother they’d always wanted.

Carolyn blinked at her, then said, “If you want, you can braid my hair. Can you do French braids?”

Dinah shook her head. “Never learned. Never had daughters.”

Carolyn climbed into the bus and sat down at Dinah’s feet. She tugged her hair out of its messy ponytail and reached up, parted her hair neatly down the middle. “It looks good with pigtails if you do it like this.”

Dinah watched, intrigued, and Carolyn tied up her own hair. “Where’d you learn how to do this, honey?”


Carolyn cast a cryptic smile over her shoulder. “You don’t think John braids hair, do you?”

That made Dinah laugh. “You got a point there, sugar. So, show me how to do that.”

Carolyn turned around. “Start up near my hair-line. Tell me to tip my head back if you need to. Separate it into three sections like an ordinary braid.”

Dinah nodded. “All right. Let me get a comb, though. I should comb your hair.”

“Good idea. It feels nice when someone combs my hair.” Carolyn settled back against Dinah’s knees, and Dinah felt something in her chest tighten. Every now and again, she forgot that Carolyn had no mother.

“Here, child. I’ve got a comb.”

(460 words)