Callie Mae slipped off the glasses she seldom wore and let them hang from a thin chain around her neck as she watched me. “I heard nursing mothers were ravenous. So why aren’t you?” I pulled a piece of breaded skin off and set it on my napkin. “I’m just not.” She scooped up a forkful of coleslaw. “What’s the matter?” Leaning my elbow on the table, I laid my head in my hand and continued picking at the chicken. “I don’t know.” She held her painted fingertips in front of her lips to hide her full mouth. “You’re probably just exhausted. One of the things I want to ask God when I get to heaven is why parents get the least amount of sleep when they need it the most. And what’s up with breast milk not coming in for a week, anyway?” Although I knew she was trying to cheer me up, I couldn’t muster anything but a halfhearted shrug. The guilt of talking to the police was weighing on me heavily. “I’ve got a few questions for him myself.” She took a bite of biscuit, licking a crumb from her lip.
