Belle and the Carousel By: Lauran G. Strait. Page 5/5
"Maybe so, thanks." Momma reached for Belle’s hand.
"I rode a carousel," Belle said after they wandered away. "I gave Erica money so she could ride, too. You believe me, don't you?"
"Yes."
"So what happened?"
"I've no idea." Momma steepled her fingers under her chin and shook her head. "But your kindness made Erica happy."
"It did . . . Momma, I know we could use this money, but would it be wasteful if we donated some of it?"
"No act of kindness is wasteful. I've a notion that when you give to others you wind up richer for it in ways you often don't see or understand."
Belle grinned.
"I'm proud of you, Belly, umm, Belle."
"Momma . . . ."
"Sorry. I can't seem to stop using that."
"It's not that I don't like it. It's just that—"
"It embarrasses you, like the way I dress embarrasses you?"
Belle blushed. Thank goodness it was dark.
"I can't be anybody but me," Momma said. "There are things about myself I can change. Things I can't. From now on, I'll try to lay off the nickname even though you'll always be my Belly-Boo. You've shown how grown up you are; I can't keep treating you like a baby.
"I hope you know, though, that my appearance doesn't reflect on you. The way I dress makes me happy. It's right for me. I'm sorry if that embarrasses you, but I'm not comfortable changing some things. At least not all at once."
"I understand." Belle thought of the hat left hanging on the rack. "You can call me Belly-Boo."
Momma reached for Belle's hand. "Okay. When we're alone. Say, before I forget, you want to ride the Ferris wheel?"
"Yes, but not now. I’m hungry."
"Me too. We'll come back tomorrow." Momma wrapped her arm around Belle.
Breathing in her mother's familiar drugstore-supplied-scent, Belle smiled, haunting calliope music swirling in her mind along with memories of a smiling girl on a horse.
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