Baba Janet’s bulk occupied her usual seat, but Sylvie had eyes only for one woman. Her mother was perched uncomfortably at the edge of the sagging couch, clutching her purse on her lap. When she saw Sylvie, she started up, and then sank back onto the couch.

“Sylvie! Oh, darling, I…” her mother Adele’s face was flushed and her eyes darted back and forth, not meeting Sylvie’s. She looked terribly ashamed, Sylvie thought. But why?

“Mom? Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly. Something about this situation was wrong. Snowpepper-in-her wanted to dance across the room and curl up into her mother’s lap, something that the Sylvie part of her instinctively recoiled from. Her mother had never been physically demonstrative, and now she seemed jumpy, defensive and just plain unapproachable.

“Oh sweetheart, I… I can’t, I don’t …” her voice cracked and her face crumpled and broke. Snatching a lipstick-smeared tissue from her purse, she began to quietly sob into it. Sylvie felt her stomach lurch as if the floor under her had dropped like an elevator. Her mother was crying. Because of her?

Before she could think about why she shouldn’t, she found herself cradling her mother in her arms. “It’s okay, Mom, I’m fine, really,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about me, please, I’m all right…”

“No, oh, dear, it’s not that…you don’t know…” This brought about a fresh flow of tears with stormy sobbing. Adele’s shoulders heaved and the soggy wad of tissue was utterly ineffective in blocking the noise. Sylvie pulled her mom into her arms and held her close, feeling horridly awkward. Sylvie was frozen in shock. If it weren’t for Snowpepper, she would be sitting stiff as a board, being no help at all. It was Snowpepper who murmured encouragement and stroked her mother’s back tenderly.

Snow, what’s going on? This can’t be happening! My mother never cries! she wailed in her mind. Hey, Don’t worry about it Sylvie, Snowpepper responded serenely. It’s okay. Just let her cry. When she’s finished she’ll tell us what she’s crying about. Everybody cries. Snowpepper’s calm acceptance of the situation helped Sylvie to feel a little more settled.

At last, Adele’s sobbing ebbed and she blew her nose on the useless wad of Kleenex. “Oh, goodness, I feel silly,” she murmured, stiffening away from Sylvie’s embrace. “You must think me a dreadful baby.”

“Why do you care what I think, Mom?” Sylvie said without thinking. Then she added, “But I don’t. Everybody has to cry sometimes. I guess it’s your turn.” The words came from Snowpepper, but as Sylvie said them, she realized it was true. It wasn’t such a big deal. So her mother cried. She breathed more easily.

Adele excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she returned, her makeup had been freshened and she looked calmer.

“Now, Mom,” Sylvie asked, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? If it’s about more than just me running away, I mean,” she added a little guiltily.

Closing her eyes, Adele breathed deeply for a moment. “I hardly know where to start,” she said. “Your leaving, running away, well it was a terrible shock to me. I… I couldn’t stand to lose another of my children; just let them go like that. It forced me to face some things I had spent a long time avoiding.”

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