I let go of Sophie’s hand. “Mom. Your way of taking care of me — hot pepper water down my throat?”
The whole yard went quiet. Balloons kept swaying in the wind. Somewhere out back, a kid let out half a laugh, and a parent shut it down.
Sophie looked up at me. Then at June. Her voice was tiny.
“Grandma gave Mommy hot-hot to drink. Mommy cried.”
A few neighbors glanced at each other.
June’s smile froze for a second. Then: “Sophie’s talking about when you had that fever—”
“Soph.”
Derek’s voice. He came around from behind the cake table and crouched down in front of Sophie.
“That was medicine.” He said it so gently. Gently enough to make my whole body go cold. “Mommy had a fever. Grandma gave Mommy medicine. You mixed it up, Soph. After she drank it, Mommy got better.”
I stared at the side of his face.
