"ARE YOU STILL PRETTY， MAMA?."<br > Rachel closed her eyes tightly， shutting out the stove，<br >the canner， the jars of tomatoes， the air in the kitchen<br >that was like sweat-dampened silk that clings to skin on<br >a humid day. Was she still pretty? }tad she ever been?<br >Yes! she tilought defiantly. But she must have let her-<br >seli go these past five months if her nine-year-old was<br >raising the question. Rachel opened her eyes and faced<br >her son. He was stim and wiry， his nose speckled with<br >treckles， and it would be years before he grew into his<br >ears. His shorts were dark around the waist with per-<br > spiration and his thin shoulders vvere bent with the<br > weight of the basket i~e had hauled from the garden. He<br > looked so solemn her smile died on her lips. "What-<br > ever makes you ask a question like that， Pete?."<br > He began to sort tomatoes from the basket. "I was<br > just thinking thaf: if you were still pretty， maybe--<br > maybe you cotdci lind another daddy to take care of us."<br > He had that hes~.tant !ook about his narrow pinched<br > tare that suggested i m wanted {o say more， but Ra-<br > chel s mouth fell (~pen in astonishment and her reac-<br > tion preoccupied him.<br > "Find another... Oh， sweetheart， that s not why<br > people get married."<br > Pete s ears turned bright red. He averted his face. "I<br > don t see why not. It seems a good reason to me. I can t<br >