Hummingbird Lane by Brown, Carolyn (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📗

coffee to the living room and sat down on the sofa. “As real as your pictures are, I can feel the warmth of the sun coming off that one, so I bet I could smell rain if you work on one like that today.”

“You give me way too much credit. I see you’re doing a cardinal, but not a male one.” Sophie tilted her head toward the small canvas on the bar.

“The female needs to be recognized,” Emma said. “She lays the eggs, sits on them, takes care of the babies. She should be recognized, and besides, I found a tiny feather on the porch yesterday from the lady bird to work into my picture. It was an omen for sure. I’m painting it with a very faint rainbow in the background to show that we have to endure the rain if we want to have the rainbow.”

Sophie handed her a paper towel and a burrito. “You are a walking example of that.”

“Do you really think I’ll ever get to see the rainbow?” Emma sighed and dabbed at the single tear finding its way down her cheek.

“Yes, you will.” Sophie sat down on the end of the sofa. “You are going to have lots of rainbows in your future, and many pots of gold at the end of them.”

“I don’t even care about the gold. I just want the rainbow, because to me that will mean that all this rape stuff is finally over. But I don’t want to talk about that today. What are you going to paint?” Emma asked.

“I’ve decided to do a long, thin picture today—just a slice of the mountain and maybe a yucca plant in the foreground with rain falling on the bloom.”

A rap on the door startled Emma so badly that she almost dropped her burrito. Then the door opened and Filly dashed in without an invitation. She had cut a hole in a black garbage bag for her head and one in each side for her arms. She carried a pan across the living room and set it on the cabinet, and then she removed the garbage bag and tossed it in the trash can.

“I brought cinnamon rolls for y’all’s breakfast. I need some inspiration for my jewelry this morning. Nothing seems to appeal to me. What are y’all working on?” She poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it to the rocking chair that had been shoved back in the corner so Sophie could set her painting up to dry.

“Emma is going to paint a mama cardinal in the rain, and I’m thinking about doing one of the mountain that’s in that picture”—she pointed to the one that was finished and drying—“but mine will have a big yucca in the foreground in this one, and where that one has the sun peeking over the mountain, this one will have rain.”

“I knew I could find something to kick me in the butt and get me going if I came over here. I never thought of painting rain on my rocks. Maybe three rocks on one necklace,” Filly said. “Dark clouds, rain, and then a rainbow.”

“Sounds beautiful. Those cinnamon rolls smell wonderful,” Emma said. “Have one with us.”

“I plan on it,” Filly said. “I’ve got a question for you, Em. What made you decide to be a flower child like me?”

“Remember what you said about cracking the eggs so we can get to the heart of things?” Emma asked.

Filly sipped her coffee and nodded.

“This has always been the real me.” Emma shrugged. “I was closed up in a shell until Sophie rescued me, and now I’m coming out, kind of like that little yellow peep I painted on one of my eggs.”

“Or like a caterpillar in a cocoon?” Filly asked.

“That’s right. Now one for you. What made you a hippie child?” Sophie asked.

“I was born one,” Filly answered. “Remember that I told you I grew up in a carnival?”

Emma nodded. “I always wondered what it would be like to grow up in one of those. Rebel’s mama lived in one when she was growing up. She told us about it one time when she was at our house. I met her one time when she came to clean our house with Rebel. I thought she was beautiful, and I loved her name. Is a carnival kind of like a commune?”

“If you live in a commune, you pretty much stay in one place. A carnie is someone who travels with the fair. My mama was the fortune teller. Daddy was the lion tamer. I grew up on the move for nine months out of the year,” Filly told her.

“That sounds so exciting.” Emma couldn’t even imagine such a lifestyle, not with her fears and social problems, but to grow up wild and free would be like living in heaven.

“It was life,” Filly said. “We were kind of like a commune when we wintered down around Texas City for three months. That’s when we repaired the equipment and got things ready to go again in the spring. That’s also when I started gathering small rocks and making jewelry. Mama sold it for me in her fortune-telling wagon. She put all the money up for my college.”

“Did you go to college?” Sophie asked.

“Hell, no! I took Mama’s place as a fortune teller when she retired. When I got tired of doing that, I came here and kept on doing what I love, which is designing jewelry.” Filly finished her coffee and went back to the kitchen, where she dished up cinnamon rolls for all three of them. “I’ve always been what you see right here, except that I could read your palm and tell your fortune.”

“For real?” Emma’s heart skipped a beat. “Could you do it right now?”

Sophie moved over to the bar and held out her hands. “Would you read mine right now, too?”

“Be glad to.” Filly moved into the living room and patted the sofa. “Come and sit right here beside me.”

Sophie left the