“Meliiiizz-MUH!  There’s someone at the DOOOOOOR!” Lyddie galloped through the house, shouting at the top of her lungs.

            Melisma raced down the steps to the front hallway.  “Lyddie, you’re not old enough to answer the door!”

            “It’s okay,” Lyddie replied.  “I remembered that, so I slammed it shut again.”

            The doorbell rang again, this time more insistently.  Melisma sighed and pushed past her sister to turn the doorknob.

            Aunt Delilah still stood on the doorstep.  She wasn’t smiling any more.  She looked different than she had six years ago, as if someone had thrown her in a clothes dryer and she’d wilted in the heat.  She had creases in her face that Melisma didn’t remember, and her brown hair had gray streaks at the roots.

            “Hello, girls, do you remember me?” she asked.

            “That’s the lady I was talking about,” Lyddie whispered to her sister.

            “Oh, uh, Aunt Delilah!  Um, hi!”  Melisma fidgeted in the doorway.  “My parents aren’t home right now.  Should I tell them you stopped by?”  It was weak, but she couldn’t think of anything better to say.

            Delilah brushed past her into the hallway.  “Don’t worry, dear, I know your parents aren’t here.  I came over the minute I heard about your father’s accident.  You poor darlings, you must be worried sick!”

            Lyddie’s eyes expanded into circles.  No one had told her about the bike wreck.  “Dad had an accident?  Is he dead?”

            Aunt Delilah turned and laughed.  “No, he’s fine.  Your father just hurt his leg.  Why, Mixolydia Sullivan!  I haven’t seen you since you were in diapers!”  She reached out to wrap Lyddie in a squishy hug.  Lyddie squeaked and dashed into the next room, then peered out from behind the door frame.

            Just then, Doria thundered down the stairs.  She took the last four steps in a giant leap and hurled herself into Aunt Delilah’s chest.

            “Aunt Delilah!” she squealed.  “I missed you so much!”

            Aunt Delilah shifted her weight with a grunt.  “I missed you too, sweetie.  Look at you, Doria!  You’ve gotten so big!”

            “I’m not Doria, I’m the Blob, remember?”  Doria snuggled her face into Aunt Delilah’s shoulder.  “Dad might be mad at you still, but I’m not.  Except you should have come for my birthday.  We had strawberry cake.”

            “The Blob…” Delilah furrowed her brow.  “You still call yourself that?  I’m not sure –” 

            “My party had better cake,” Lyddie argued.  “It was lemon, with sprinkles.”

            Aunt Delilah extracted herself from Doria’s hug and set her sister gently on the floor.  “You’ve all grown so much,” she said, “but where is Cade?  I bet he’s taller than I am!”  She glanced hopefully from doorway to doorway, and Melisma recognized from her childhood the same warm glow in her face that always came when Aunt Delilah thought about Cade.

“He’s in his room,” Doria said absently, following Delilah as she walked into the kitchen.  “Did you know that the adorabilis octopus lives in the midnight zone?  Did you know that Lyddie still wets the bed?”

            “Only sometimes!” Lyddie protested.  “Hey lady, did you know Doria has bowling shoe breath?”

            “Girls, that’s enough,” Aunt Delilah reproached gently.  “I’m going to take care of you for a few days while your father is in the hospital, and I expect you to treat each other kindly while I’m here.  This is no way for sisters who love each other to talk to one another.”

            Lyddie huffed.  “I wasn’t talking to my sister; I was talking to you, about my sister.  And how she has bowling shoe breath.”

            Aunt Delilah shot her a look, and Lyddie fell silent.

***

Doria and Lyddie monopolized Delilah’s attention, keeping her from her favorite nephew until midway through dinner.  She’d picked up a frozen lasagna on her way to the house, which the girls eyed hungrily once she thawed, cooked, and plopped it in a casserole dish in the center of the table.  Cade didn’t respond when she called up the stairs, so she pressed forward in feeding the children that were there.

            “Let’s have a conversation,” she said as she scooped food onto their plates.  “Each girl can tell us what grade she’s in, and what her favorite part about school is.  Little Izzie Mississippi, why don’t you start us off?  I’ll bet you have all the boys’ hearts a-flutter, don’t you?”

            Melisma’s face burned.  There was lots to tell about her eighth-grade classes, but, after a question like that, she had no idea how to start.  Also, she hadn’t been “Little Izzie Mississippi” since she was seven, and it was strange to hear the nickname now.  She shrank in her chair.

            “I like Science and Inquiry,” Doria said from under the table.  She’d flipped herself upside-down in her chair so her ankles stuck up where her head should be.

            “Doria Sullivan, sit up like a lady!” Aunt Delilah snapped.  “Come on, Izzie, there must be something about school that you like.”

            Lyddie interrupted her by releasing a roaring fart that filled the whole kitchen in seconds.  Aunt Delilah gasped, appalled.  Doria giggled under the table.

            Melisma sighed.  “Bathroom, Lyddie.  Now,” she ordered.  “And make sure to flush!”

            “‘Kay, Melisma,” Lyddie said.  She trudged sheepishly toward the door.

            “And wipe properly!” Melisma called after her.

            “Well I…  uh–” Aunt Delilah stammered, struggling to regain her composure.  “What was that?”

            “That’s just Lyddie,” Melisma confided.  “It happens a lot.”

            “Maybe farting is Lyddie’s favorite class!”  Doria flexed her ankles as she tried to pick up her fork and spoon with her toes.  She accidentally kicked the corner of her plate, and her lasagna flipped onto the table.

Aunt Delilah jumped in her seat.  “Sit up properly!” she roared.  “And where is your brother Cade?!”

            As she shouted his name, Cade stepped into the kitchen.  He glared pointedly at Aunt Delilah.  “What’s she doing here?” he asked.

            Aunt Delilah turned to greet him.  “Oh, Cadence, there you are.  And you’ve gotten… well….  Why, you’re practically a little man now!”

            Cade bristled, particularly at the words ‘little man.’  “Whatever,” he said.  “Why are you here?”

            Aunt Delilah flinched, taken aback by his rudeness.  She spluttered for words as her eyes moved from his unwashed slacks and t-shirt to the baleful, thick-lipped scowl framed by his uncombed brown hair.  She collected herself and tried again.  “I’m here to help out!  I’ll be taking care of you while your father recovers.”

            “Don’t worry, I don’t need taking care of.  We can manage just fine,” Cade shuffled to the refrigerator to grab an apple.  “So, thanks and all, but you can go back home.”

            Aunt Delilah gasped.  “That is no way to talk to your aunt!” she exclaimed.  “I know you must be worried, but this is absolutely uncalled for!  Now sit down and eat your lasagna!”

            “You’re not my mom,” Cade replied.  He grabbed a bag of chips and a can of soda and walked out of the kitchen.

            “Cadence Sullivan, you get back here this instant!” Aunt Delilah shouted.  The girls watched in uncomfortable silence as she stood from the table and scurried after him.

            “Great seeing you, Aunt Delilah,” Cade called from the stairway.  “Be sure to close the front door on your way out.”  He loped up the stairs two at a time and was gone.

***

            The next day and a half were tense, to say the least.  Cade insulted Aunt Delilah every time he saw her, until eventually she avoided him altogether.  At mealtimes, she asked Melisma to put a plate of cold food by his door, in case he got hungry.

            Melisma got along better with her, but even that was hard.  She still saw her niece as the shy, innocent seven-year-old she used to take care of, and she didn’t know what to do with her as a teenager.

            “Hey there, Little Izzy,” she called as Melisma came home from school.  “Come give your aunt a cuddle!  Want to help me with my needlepoint?  I have a spare canvas….”

            “Sorry, Aunt Delilah,” Melisma responded.  “I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”  She and Lakshmi were in the middle of an important text conversation, and it couldn’t wait.  “Maybe later?”

            “Sure,” Aunt Delilah sighed.  “I’ll be here.”

            Doria and Lyddie loved to spend time with her, but that brought its own challenges.  They fought for her attention, turning “‘Lilah Cuddle Time” into an all-out war.  If Doria sat next to Aunt Delilah, then Lyddie would squeeze in between them.  Doria would then climb into Delilah’s lap, disrupting whatever she was doing, and Lyddie would shove her off, or sometimes just climb on top of her.  They’d keep this up until somebody ended up with an elbow in their face.  Usually Aunt Delilah.  Then she’d scold them and send them to their rooms.

            As their time together wore on, Aunt Delilah’s frown lines grew more pronounced, and her temper grew shorter.  She spent long stretches sitting alone and shaking her head, wondering what had befallen the four sweet little children she’d known before.

***

            Everything blew up on the second evening, after dinner.  Aunt Delilah was locking up, while the girls watched a movie in the den.  Cade stepped into the front hallway, wearing a jacket and boots.

            “Where are you going?”  Delilah asked.

            “Out,” Cade responded.  He had taken to going for long walks in the evening, but he didn’t see how that was any business of his aunt’s.  He stepped towards the door.

            Delilah blocked the frame with her whole body.  “No, you’re not.  Now, take those boots off and go watch the movie with your sisters.”

            Cade's arched brows shot upward, and his thick lips twisted into a smirk.  “You’re not in charge of me,” he said.  “You know what?  I’ll just use the garage door.”

            “Oh no you don’t!” Aunt Delilah ran around to head him off.  “Cadence Sullivan, you get back here, right now!”

            Cade brushed past her and kept walking.  “Or what?” he taunted as he opened the door.

            Aunt Delilah changed tactics.  “Cade, please,” she said.  “I know you don’t want me here.  But your mother comes home the day after tomorrow.  We only have to get through two more days, so please come back inside.”

            Cade considered Aunt Delilah’s argument for a few seconds.  Then his face hardened.  “You can’t make me,” he said.  

            As he stepped into the garage, Aunt Delilah pulled herself up to fill every inch of her five-foot-four frame.  “All right, that’s it!” she cried.  Her voice was hard and brittle, with an edge that hadn’t been there before.  She pulled her phone from her clutch, along with a small plastic card.  “You’ve left me no other options!”

            Curiosity and stubbornness battled across Cade’s face.  His aunt had no way to stop him, he knew, but the card had captured his interest.  He turned around and watched her with a mulish expression.  His sisters stepped out of the den, drawn by the shouting.  Aunt Delilah punched a lengthy number into the phone, then stood glaring at Cade as the call connected.

            “Hello, this is Delilah Tucker,” she said, glancing at her card.  “I’m calling on behalf of Cadence Sullivan, policy number 115-W2-3924-ZZ.  I need immediate assistance.  A personality has been severely damaged, and I’d like to file a claim.”

            Cade gaped.  His father had been right – Aunt Delilah was still trying to take advantage of their personalities!  He whirled dramatically and stormed into the night.  The door slammed behind him.

If he had just stayed on his walk for the rest of the evening, things might have turned out simpler.  But his curiosity got the better of him.  He needed to see how this would all play out.  He looped around the cul-de-sac back to his house and crept quietly through the back door.  Aunt Delilah smiled in triumph as he slunk upstairs.   Five minutes later, the front doorbell rang.