goin'."

"That's all."

"No it ain't. Tell the truth and shame the devil."

An even deeper breath. "I want to meet Mrs. Feldman."

Miss Rosa surprised her by taking her hand. "Can't let you take that child nowhere, not even 'cross the street, till I know you ain't crazy. You know I can't, so doan ask me."

Sarah felt Kayla's eyes shift from Miss Rosa onto her, and then her own eyes started leaking. "Why do I feel like she's in there?" she said. "If it's not true, why does it _feel_ true?"

"I'll pray on it," Miss Rosa said. "You know I will."

TWO DAYS LATER, Miss Rosa abruptly ordered Kayla back into their apartment. It was late afternoon, and the gangsta children had mostly risen and come out, shirtless, to hang over thephrased her question that last time they'd been together? Had their sex spoken to him in any way? He hadn't known how to answer, or perhaps he'd known how but didn't want to hurt her feelings, which were raw and jangly. It occurred to him only later that any woman who asked that particular question was implying strongly that it hadn't "spoken" to her either, at least not above a whisper. Last night with Anne hadn't been a thunderous, buckle-your-knees event, but it had been sweet and tender. They'd both known what they were about, and at their age—though Anne was nearly a decade younger—maybe sweet, gentle was what you got. Or therapeutic. "Okay," Anne had said, mostly to herself, as she'd pulled up the sheet afterward. "Now