UNBROKEN PROMISE

~72~ A Proper Bath

The days had stretched long and slow, but Oma was finally strong enough to move around on her own. The house no longer carried the weight of worry and sleepless nights, and the worst had passed.

Mama Becca had taken one look at Oma that morning and decided it was time for a proper bath.

“Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go another day without gettin’ properly cleaned up,” she had declared, already bustling about to warm water over the fire.

Oma had been too weak to argue, and truthfully, the idea of warm water surrounding her aching body had been too tempting to resist. She had sat quietly as Mama Becca carefully helped her into the bath she had drawn herself, checking the heat, pouring the oils, so it would be just right.

The bathwater steamed in the deep porcelain tub. The scent of lavender and rosemary filling the room.

Oma hissed softly as the heat met her skin, then sighed and sank back, her eyes fluttering shut. Her frame thinner now than it had been just weeks ago. The sickness had taken what little weight she’d gained.

Frail. That was the word. Her collarbones were clearly defined, her arms thin, wrists narrow. Her knees stuck out above the water, and her ribs moved slightly with each breath

Mama Becca’s throat tightened at the sight of her. All that hard won flesh, gone. Just like that.

“You’re skin and bones again, baby,” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady. “ Let 0p ’s get you cleaned proper.”sge said as she got the wash cloth.

“You scared me half to death,” Mama Becca said after a while, kneeling beside the tub, washing her arms with slow, practiced hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no...don’t you sorry me yet.” Her voice held that edge of sternness now. “What were you thinkin’, runnin’ out into a storm like that? A blizzard, Oma. You don’t just go walkin’ off into that kind of cold.”

Oma stayed quiet, her lips parted slightly as warm water poured down her shoulders.

“You could’ve died,” Mama Becca said, her voice low and shaking now. “We could’ve lost you. After all this time...after everything...we almost lost you because you didn’t stop to think how we’d feel.”

Oma let the silence stretch a moment longer before she whispered, “I didn’t think anyone would miss me that much.”

Mama Becca stilled.

“I just…” Oma swallowed. “I felt like a burden to him. To Logan. The way I’ve been to everyone. I’ve always been… too much or not enough. Too light to belong. Too dark to disappear...A mulatto. I thought maybe if I left… maybe he’d be better off.”

Mama Becca sat back on her heels, her heart twisting. “Don’t you dare say that,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t you ever let me hear those words out your mouth again.”

Oma looked down, blinking fast.

“You hear me, girl? You are not a burden. You never were. Not to me. Not to anyone who matters. And Logan?” She snorted. “Lord, that boy is just foolish and stubborn. Chasing away every good thing that happens to him”

She reached forward, cupping Oma’s cheek with her damp hand. “You think of no one else? Not me? Not Megan? You scared us all.”

Oma’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Mama Becca leaned in and kissed her cheek, tender and forgiving. “I know you are. And I know part of this is that boy’s fault too. He made you feel like you had to run. That’s on him.”