The mulberries were black and bursting when I opened the door for the first time in seven weeks. Mornings brought the most temptation, when my stomach whined like the siren in the center of town on the day the hushworms fell. There were twelve windows in the house, but I could only watch the berries ripen out of ten of them. Daddy’s room was off limits since the morning I heard his window screech open and his strangled yell. He had the best view of the mulberry tree. The branches nearly brushed the window. The berries were milky white and hard as stones then, but they must’ve looked tasty enough for him to try. I snuck to his door and listened to his gurgling. The hushworm slurped across the floor inside and jiggled the door. I found a belt and tied the doorknob to the staircase railing, tight as I could pull. After a while, the jiggling stopped and Daddy started to stink. The second-best view of the mulberry tree was by the living room …