Juno's Daughters Read Online Free PDF

told herself often. The time did not ever seem to be right.
    Jenny rested her chin against Frankie’s damp back. “What kinds of things do you remember from when you were little, anyway?”
    Frankie chewed her lip. “Like kindergarten?”
    â€œBefore.”
    â€œDidn’t I used to sleep with one of those plastic trolls? With long blue hair?”
    â€œYou did.” Jenny smiled. It had been years since she remembered Frankie’s troll. Ludmilla. “Anything else?”
    â€œI remember Lil making pills for me out of that white bread we got at the discount store. She’d line them up on the counter and watch until I’d swallowed each and every one.”
    Lilly. Of course. Frankie had been born into a world that had always had Lilly in it.
    â€œWhat’s she going to do next, do you think?” asked Frankie, as if she could read Jenny’s thoughts. She tilted her head to look her mother in the eyes.
    â€œDo you mean the next time she gets into trouble?”
    So far there had been failing grades in high school, a shop-lifting episode in Seattle, and more than one pregnancy scare. Jenny helped Lilly secure the landscaping job and made sure she was up on time in the morning. She grounded her after Seattle and got her put on the pill (the two things were unfortunately related), and mostly she told herself that Lilly would be fine if she avoided falling into one of the bigger holes over the next few years or so. She had managed to fall into every one she could find on their small island already. Jenny comforted herself with the idea that at least where they lived, the holes were not as deep as they could be on the mainland.
    â€œNo. I mean when she grows up. She’s going to stay here, right? Stay with us?”
    â€œWell, probably not forever,” said Jenny, realizing both that it was true and how assiduously she had avoided reflecting on that fact until just then.
    Frankie wrenched her head and shoulders free from Jenny’s loose embrace and gave her a sudden scowl. “You’re too strict with her, Mom. You know that, right? I mean, she’s almost eighteen years old. She should be able to do what she wants.”
    The last part of Frankie’s argument remained unspoken, but they both knew what it was: You change and s he’ll stay.
    Jenny rolled her eyes. “Too strict? Is this Lilly Alexander we’re talking about?”
    â€œWell, you’re too critical.” Frankie made this last observation with her arms crossed over her bathrobed chest, peering down on Jenny in the chair with the air of a produce buyer sizing up a crate of tomatoes.
    Jenny stared her down. “When was the last time I said something critical about you ?”
    Frankie appeared to think about that for a moment and apparently, finding no examples, tried a different tack. “I’ll die if she leaves,” she said fiercely. “I’ll cry every single day.”
    Jenny refrained from pointing out that those threats were mutually exclusive.
    Just six months before, Frankie would hold Jenny’s hand walking down Spring Street. Now her younger daughter watched her carefully in public and from a distance, the way a bride might keep an eye on a drunk uncle. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Frankie seemed to be approaching an adolescence that Lilly only now hinted at emerging from in one piece, but it did. Frankie had never been in any trouble. Jenny shifted under the girl’s weight. Even at thirteen, she was the kind of child who would crawl in her mother’s lap. In private, maybe, but still. Lilly hadn’t sought refuge there since she was six.
    â€œRemember how Lilly used to talk about being a teacher?”
    â€œShe would be a terrible teacher,” said Frankie. “The kids would learn all the wrong things.”
    â€œProbably so.” Jenny tugged at her T-shirt.
    The front it had a wet spot on it the size of a grapefruit