Libbit

I drew Nan Melda, up to her shins, and Libbit up to her waist, with Noveen tucked under her arm and her pinafore floating around her.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

She knows something is going on, Libbit knows something is going on, and the twins know, too - Tessie and Lo-Lo are as scared as she is.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

Libbit almost could have been the doll-girl in the sketch Ilse had demanded - the one I had titled The End of the Game.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

Somewhere in the back of my mind had been a clear narrative thread: we'd enter the house, go upstairs, and find what had been Elizabeth's bedroom in those long-ago days when she'd been known as Libbit.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

And when he came back to little Libbit, he hug her hug her hug her.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

Although much more hurried, it was once again Nan Melda and Libbit standing in the shallow end of the pool.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

Nan Melda, the closest thing to a mother Libbit ever knew.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

She has no time to listen, although she spares a thought for Libbit - why has Libbit not drowned the china figure?

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

(I couldn't know this, but I did; it was news that had come whispering up from Elizabeth's pictures - pictures done when she was still known as Libbit.)

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008

Nan Melda's eyes drift to Libbit's special-things box before going back to Libbit herself again.

Duma Key King, Stephen, 1947- 2008