13 Gifts (17 page)

She nods.

“Thought so,” he says. “I never forget the good tippers.”

She smiles and grabs me. “Okay, bye!” she calls out as she hurries me past the house.

“See ya,” he replies, going back to his dog washing.

Clearly we didn’t just wander onto this street by accident. My little cousin knew exactly where she was headed. When
we’re out of earshot I say, “He’s a little old for you, don’t you think?”

“It’s not like that,” she says, turning around to make sure he definitely can’t hear us. “He’s the head of the high school math team.”

I can’t help laughing. “You have a math crush?”

She sighs. “I guess so. Don’t tell Mom, though. She’ll never let me pay for the pizza again.”

“My lips are sealed.” Then I realize something. “Hey, is that why you wouldn’t let me wait for the pizza guy with you?”

She blushes and nods. “Sorry about that.”

My phone rings as I tell her not to worry about it. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s David calling. My heart speeds up a little and I glance at Emily. She’s smiling. “You should answer that.”

Now it’s my turn to blush as I walk a few steps away.

“A lady wrote about the little purple bottle!” David tells me without even a hello. “She says she’s not a hundred percent sure it’s the one we’re looking for, though.”

“Is it two ounces? Does it have a silver stopper?”

“She didn’t say. But she told me we can go over there to check it out.”

“Great. When?”

“That’s the thing,” he says, “she’s leaving later tonight on vacation for a week! So we need to get there in the next hour or so.”

“Where does she live?”

He rustles some papers, then says, “12 Tanglewood Trail. It’s about a half mile from our houses. I can’t leave, though. I have a live webcam session with the rabbi in a few minutes.”

“I’ll take this one,” I tell him.

“You’re sure?” he says.

“Yup. Good luck with the rabbi.”

“Okay, good luck to you, too. Let me know how it goes.” We hang up. Emily grins and says, “A little old for you, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s exactly my —” I catch myself before I get myself in any deeper. Emily is sneaky indeed. “So you DO like him!”

“I do not!” I say, doing a quick check that David isn’t still on the other end.

“You do!”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t really matter because he likes Rory.”

“Maybe he used to,” she admits. “But that was before Jake. Trust me, David and Rory are just good friends.”

Desperate to talk about something else, I ask if she knows where Tanglewood Trail is. She points down the street. “It’s about four blocks that way. Why?”

“David asked me to pick something up for him.”

“Okay,” she says. “Let me text Mom and tell her we’ll be back a little late.”

A response arrives half a block later. “Mom says we’re having pizza again tonight, so let’s not take too long, okay? She doesn’t tip as well as me. I don’t want him not to come back!”

As we speed walk through the neighborhood, I ask Emily if she knows what the story is with David’s father. I’m not used to thinking about other people’s lives. But recently, they’ve become a lot harder to ignore.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know too much. I was only in
first grade when the Goldbergs moved here, so I didn’t really catch too much of what went on. I think maybe he got really sick or something.” “Did he … is he …”

“I think he’s alive,” she says. “But maybe in some special place? Like a hospital or something? I really don’t know.”

I feel a rush of sympathy for David. What must that be like for him? I wonder if he was ever going to tell me.

Emily stops walking. “Here we are. Tanglewood Trail.”

“Already?”

She nods. We walk a few houses down until I find number 12. I’m tempted to ask Emily to wait outside, but it’s not really our neighborhood anymore and she’s still only eleven. “When we get in there, just act cool, okay? Let me do all the talking.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she replies, saluting me.

I push open the small white gate in front of the walkway and lead her up to the front door. The bushes and flowers on either side of the door are kept up really nice. The screen door is closed, but the front door is wide open. I’m not sure what to do. “Knock, knock!” Emily says loudly.

I shush her, but a woman’s voice inside calls out, “Come on in. I’m just zipping up my suitcase.”

I go first, and when I’m sure everything’s okay, I motion for Emily to follow. We find the woman sitting on the floor on top of a blue hardback suitcase. She’s putting all her weight on it in an attempt to get the zipper to shut.

“Um, we’re here about the glass bottle?” I ask.

“Here, give me a hand, will ya?” she scoots over and lets go of the zipper. “I’ll push, you zip.”

I do as she says, and the suitcase closes.

“Thanks,” she says, blowing a piece of her long dark hair away from her face. She’s very pretty, probably around my parents’ age. The sight of oversized LEGOs and picture books scattered on the floor tells me there are little kids around somewhere. “So you’re looking for the purple bottle?”

“Yes. My friend said you had it?”

She stands up and grabs a little white bag from the table. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. “I’m not sure it’s the exact one you’re looking for, but it seemed to fit the description.”

I carefully pull the bottle out of the bag. It fits in the palm of my hand. I mentally check off the requirements. It could definitely be two ounces, but I’m not good with measurements. It’s glass. It’s purple. It has a silver stopper. “It sure looks right to me,” I announce. “What can I offer you for it?”

She’s sitting on the next suitcase, trying unsuccessfully to close it. I kneel down and zip again while she pushes. “You can just have it,” she says, as the zipper slowly makes its way around the side. “I don’t have any good memories attached to that thing.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I can pay you something, or barter. Like I could water your flowers while you’re on vacation or something? You know, if it doesn’t rain?”

“Wait a sec,” she says, and reaches for my arm. “Okay, I’ll barter with you. I’ll give you the bottle for your bracelet.”

I see Emily immediately grab her own wrist, and her own bracelet. I hesitate. Our friendship bracelets have actually
started to mean something to me. “I … I don’t know. It’s not valuable or anything.”

“That’s all right,” she says. “There’s just something about it.”

“Here,” Emily says, slipping hers off her wrist. “Take mine.” She rests it in the woman’s palm. “We’ve gotta go, though, Tara. Pizza waits for no man.”

“Your name’s Sara?” the woman says. “So’s my daughter’s.”

I shake my head. “It’s Tara, with a T.”

“Oh. Close, though.”

I want to tell her
No it’s not close, it’s a totally different name,
but really, what would be the point? She tucks the bracelet into her pocket and we quickly finish zipping the suitcase. Emily is already waiting outside, tapping her foot.

“Thank you for the bottle,” I say.

“Thank your friend for the bracelet,” she replies.

I’m about to tell her Emily is my cousin, but I realize that she’s both. So I just say, “I will.”

“Mommy!” a little voice calls out. “The dog is eating my Play-Doh!”

The woman gives me a quick smile then closes the door.

I try to keep up with Emily as she jogs toward home and her pizza-delivering math crush. “You didn’t have to give that lady your friendship bracelet,” I tell her. “Maybe she would have taken me up on the flower watering.”

“That’s okay,” she says. “I don’t need a bracelet to know we’re friends.”

I smile. “Me, neither.”

At eleven the next morning, David and I walk up the steps of Willow’s Church. “This is going to be weird,” David says. I was thinking the same thing. Just the two of us? We’ve never done anything alone before. Then he says, “I’ve never been in a church before. And I’ve only been in a temple once or twice.”

Okay, so he wasn’t talking about us at all. It’s a good thing I’m walking a step ahead and he can’t see my face.

The inside of the church is larger than it looked from outside. Stained-glass windows line both sides, with rows of pews that go straight across. The only people we see are a few women talking about a bake sale. “Are you here for the youth ministry meeting?” one of them asks us. “It doesn’t start until noon.”

We shake our heads. David has retreated into quiet mode, so I say, “Actually, we wanted to speak to someone about a Bible?”

“The minister is in his office,” she says, pointing to a hallway off to the side. “I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. David doesn’t move, so I have to push him down the hall. “He won’t bite, I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” he mutters.

The door is open, so we walk in. The minister is around fifty, with very little hair and a friendly smile. “How can I help you?”

There’s no way David is going to say anything, so I step forward. “This is going to sound —”

But David steps in front of me and blurts out, “How do you know if you’re doing something because it’s what everyone did before you, or because you really believe it?”

Well,
that
was a surprise.

The minister leans back in his chair. “Ah, young man, that’s the age-old question, isn’t it? The simple answer is that you don’t know … until you do. Know, that is. Does that make sense?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” David says.

“Children are generally brought up to believe what their parents believe, right?”

David nods.

“Then at some point, when they’re old enough, they start to question it, as you might be now.” David nods again.

“And then at some point further down the road, they’ll decide what’s right for them. But you’d be amazed at the power of tradition. When something is in your bones, it’s pretty hard to ignore.”

“Thank you,” David says. “I’ll think about that.”

“You two have a lovely day now,” he says, turning back to the papers on his desk.

David turns to go. I grab on to his shirt. “Um, actually, we have another question.”

He looks up expectantly.

“This is going to sound weird, but you wouldn’t happen to have a copy of the Bible with two books of Genesis in it, would you?”

“Actually, we do!” he says, clasping his hands together. “It’s been in our storage closet in the basement since I was around your age!” He chuckles. “We used to bring it out and try to
make the old minister think he was going senile. Hmm, that doesn’t sound very godly of me. Forget I said that!”

“And you still have it?” I ask.

He nods. “Indeed. No one wants to throw out a copy of the Bible, even if it IS missing the book of Exodus! It’s a dilemma. Can’t use it, can’t throw it away.”

“Then this is your lucky day,” David says. “We can help you by taking it off your hands. We know someone who’s looking for it.”

“Is that so? And what would this person be doing with it?”

“I can honestly say I have no idea,” David says.

I’m glad David answered that one, since I have a pretty good idea I know exactly what Angelina’s planning on doing with all this stuff. If she can find room on the shelves.

The minister pushes back his chair. “Well, who am I to keep a Bible out of someone’s hands who’s asking for it? I’ll go get it for you.”

He leaves us in the office grinning at each other. “Nice work,” I say.

“You, too.”

We keep grinning until David’s phone rings. “Am I supposed to answer it in a church?” “I have no idea.”

“It’s pretty loud. What if people are trying to pray?”

“Good point. You better answer it.”

He pulls it from his pocket. “Hello? Uh-huh. Really? No way! What are we going to do? What are the odds? Crazy! I’ve gotta go, we’re still in the church. I may be sinning right now.
No, I’ll tell her.” He hangs up the phone and shakes his head. “You’re not gonna believe this. That was Leo. He said we got an e-mail from someone who has the steamer trunk! The lady says we’d be doing her a favor by carting it away!”

“That’s great. Why wouldn’t I believe it?”

“Because it’s your aunt!”

Chapter Eighteen

 

“What about Connor?” David suggests. We’re sitting
on a park bench, splitting our third hot pretzel. After a flurry of panicked texts and phone calls between everyone, we’ve decided the best way to handle it is to let someone else handle it. Someone Aunt Bethany wouldn’t connect to me.

“Would he do it?”

“I think so,” David says. “If I can wrestle the video-game controller out of his hand.”

“Okay, let’s try him.”

David goes off to call Connor while I text Rory to let her know. As I’m sending off the text, my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Tara? Tara, it’s Dad!”

I jump up from the bench. “Dad! Where are you?”

“We’re in Madagascar, honey, remember?”

I laugh. “I know, but where are you calling from?”

“The top of a baobab tree! You should see the view!”

I laugh again. I didn’t realize how much I missed hearing his voice until now.

“Okay, I’m actually calling from the base camp.”

“How are the lemurs?”

“Pretty cute. Mating habits? Not so cute. Many people here believe in the supernatural, though. I’m getting a lot of great material for my next book.”

“Do
you
believe in it?” I ask, half hoping he says yes. But the connection gets garbled and I miss his reply. Then I hear, “How are you enjoying my hometown?”

I plop back down on the bench. “Everything’s … really different than I thought.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Good, I think. Mostly. I’ve met some really nice people and seen some … really strange things.”

He laughs. “That’s Willow Falls for you!”

“I know Mom said people get busy and stuff, but didn’t you ever want to come back here?”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and I fear the call dropped. But then he says, “For whatever reason, your mother felt strongly about never going back. I didn’t want to push it. By the time we were out of college, Grandma Emilia had passed away and the rest of your grandparents had retired to Florida anyway.”

David’s still on the phone with Connor, so I move a little farther away and ask, “Hey, do you remember a lady named Angelina D’Angelo?”

“Short, white hair, duck-shaped birthmark?” he asks.

I gasp. “Yes! That’s her.”

“Sure, everyone knew her. She was a fixture in town. At one time I think she was the chaperone for all the school dances up at Apple Grove.” He laughs. “She used to make sure you could fit a ruler in between the boys and the girls during a slow dance.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Don’t tell me she’s still alive? She was old when
I
was a kid.”

“Still alive and kicking.”

“Who else have you met?”

“Well, there’s —”

“Honey, sorry to cut you off, Mom wants the phone and we only have a minute left.”

“Wait, Dad!”

“I’ve gotta hand over the phone. Miss you, honey.”

“I miss you, too,” I say, truthfully. “Here’s Mom.”

I take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself to talk to her.

“Tara?”

I attempt to say hello, but a lump has formed in my throat and I can’t seem to speak. It’s a lump made of anger and frustration and confusion and trying to act grown-up and keeping secrets and missing her all wrapped into one.

“Tara? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” I manage to squeak out.

“Is everything okay?”

I force myself to pull it together. “Yes.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been frantic here, not being able to talk to you.”

“Really?”

“You’re surprised?”

I swallow hard. “Well, you’ve been so weird and angry, and you sent me away.”

“Okay, I see your point. But you’re okay? You’re meeting people? Nothing bad has happened?”

“Yes, I’m meeting people. And nothing … too bad has happened.”

“Tara, they’re telling me I have to hang up. Stay strong. We’ll call again next week. And, Tara, I’m really sorry.”

She hangs up before I can ask which of her recent behaviors she’s sorry for.

“Your parents?” David asks, sitting back down next to me.

I nod.

“They’re still in Africa?”

I nod again. “That’s far.”

“Yup. And things with my mom have been weird lately.”

“Sometimes that happens with me and my mom. It’s hard not to take it personally, but I’ve sort of figured out that mostly, it has nothing to do with me. Something at work could be bothering her, or she’ll get a call about my dad that will upset her.”

I figure this is as good a time as any, so I say, “You haven’t mentioned your dad before.”

He looks off into the distance, past the kids playing in the sandbox and the man selling pretzels, and into some place I can’t see.

“He’s in a special facility about three hours away from here. He has a condition called dystonia. It started to get bad when I was four or five. He used be at home but now he has to be someplace where he can be monitored and taken care of correctly. He can’t control a lot of his muscles or even talk anymore.”

David’s hand is gripping the edge of the bench as if he needs to feel the solidity of it. I remember doing that as I sat on the
curb outside Bettie’s house after Rory and Leo told me about Angelina’s store.

As though someone else is taking control of my body, with absolutely no conscious thought whatsoever, I rest my hand on top of his. After a full minute of sitting like that, I start to obsess over the fact that our hands are touching and that I started it and that he didn’t pull away. Should I take my hand off his now? What if he wants his own hand back but doesn’t want to be rude and move it first?

Then he whispers, “It’s genetic. It might happen to me, too.”

I stop thinking about our hands. “Might? How will you know?”

“I just have to hope I get lucky and the gene doesn’t turn active.” Then he smiles. “Good thing I’ve got a good luck charm now.” He flips his hand over while it’s still underneath mine.

David and I = Two People Officially Holding Hands.

I feel full. Like I could burst. It’s an absolutely perfect moment. Right up until my phone rings and the pregnant lady who sold us the candlestick holder asks me to come over and clean her cat litter.

“That’s Muskrat Suzy,” Carolyn says, pointing to the hugely fat orange cat currently hissing at David and me from the porch. “Don’t mind her. She about to have kittens and she’s very protective of her space. Muskrat Sam is around here somewhere. He’s the expectant father.”

We make a wide circle around the cat and step into the house.

“Sorry about the mess,” she says. “Bending down isn’t what it used to be.”

I’ve gotten so used to Emily’s room that the few books and clothes scattered around don’t even faze me. Still, I find myself picking them up as she walks us over to the litter area.

“You’re not supposed to clean cat litter when you’re pregnant,” she explains. “Something about a disease they carry in their … well, in the stuff they leave behind in the litter box. My neighbor had been doing it for me, but she’s on vacation for a week. There’s kind of a lot in there.”

“It’s not a problem,” David says, plucking the little plastic shovel off the shelf. “We’ll be happy to do it.”

I nod in agreement.

“You two are very cheerful for people about to clean out cat poop.”

I blush and grab one of the plastic bags next to the box. “This is nothing. I’ve seen a lot more poop in my day than this.”

“You have?” she asks, amused.

“I once spent a whole summer helping my mother label which animal it came from.”

David stops, mid-scoop. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

That’s for sure.

While we work, Carolyn sorts through some boxes of clothes that someone must have sent her. Every few seconds I’ll see her touch her belly, or rest her hand on it briefly. I’ve never been this close to someone as pregnant as she is. It’s totally bizarre actually.

I must not be the only one stealing glances at her belly because she asks, “Would either of you like to feel the baby kick?”

My eyes widen. I quickly shake my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

David jumps up so fast he almost knocks the litter box over. “I do! I want to be a pediatrician one day.”

Clearly, there’s a lot I don’t know about David, either.

David steps over to the sink to wash his hands. But when he approaches Carolyn, Muskrat Suzy positions herself directly between them and hisses, daring him to approach.

Carolyn laughs and gently shoos the cat away. “She’s protecting me. Us two pregnant gals gotta look out for each other.” She places David’s hand on her belly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, his eyes wide with excitement. “C’mon, Tara, you’ve got to feel this!”

I really don’t want to put my hand on a near-stranger’s belly, but David seems to have no problem with it. So I wash my hands and join him. When I first lay my hand there, I’m surprised at how rock hard it is. Nothing like a regular stomach. A second later it feels like a tiny fist is punching my palm. I yank my hand away in surprise.

Carolyn smiles. “Now you’ve met Milo.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” David asks.

Carolyn beams. “And the thing I didn’t expect was to love him so much, before he’s even born. Like there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

She starts singing a lullaby to her belly, and to my horror, David joins in, voice cracking and all.

“You’ll make a really good doctor one day,” Carolyn says, smiling up at him.

After another round of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” we resume cleaning the litter box and generally straightening up the place. David keeps chatting about this and that, but I can’t focus. All I keep thinking about is how my mom protected me like that, how she loved me like that, and how we can’t even talk to each other anymore.

“Are you all right?” David asks on the walk home. He hasn’t tried to take my hand again, which I’m grateful for. I think all of this voluntary touching of other people in one day has overwhelmed my system.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, feeling better now that we’re on the move again. And soon we’ll get to cross one more thing off the list. “We better hurry. Connor’s going to be at your house any minute.”

We pick up the pace. “I guess we shouldn’t have stayed there so long,” he says. “It just seemed like she didn’t get much company.”

“Probably not,” I agree. “She’d have to be lonely to let a strange kid like you touch her belly.”

“Who are you calling strange?”

“If I ask you something, will you promise not to get offended?”

“Interesting way to start a question.”

I start walking even faster, looking ahead instead of at him. “How come when you sing, sometimes it’s really good, and
sometimes it’s, um, not so good? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still much better than anything I could do.”

“When is it good and when isn’t it?” he asks, sounding like he really wants to know.

I think back to all the times I’ve heard him sing, both good and not-as-good, and am surprised that there’s actually a pattern. “This is going to sound strange, but when you sing outside, you’re really good.”

He only hesitates for a second before answering. “It’s because outside is where I feel him the most.”

I stop walking. “Feel who? God?”

He shakes his head. “My dad.”

Connor is sitting on David’s porch when we arrive, playing a handheld video game. “Hey, Hamburglar,” he says, standing up. “Hey, new girl.”

“Hey,” I reply.

David takes out his key and ushers us inside. “Did anyone see you?” he asks Connor.

Connor laughs. “You didn’t tell me to wear my trench coat and sunglasses.”

“Forget those things,” David says. “I shoulda told you to wear a cap. You could see that red hair from clear across town.”

“So exactly what is this top secret mission?” Connor asks. “And more important, how much am I getting paid?”

“Five bucks?” David suggests.

“Ten!” Connor says.

“Deal,” I agree. “And you know what to do?”

“All the Hamburglar told me was I’m supposed to tell your aunt I’m here for the trunk.”

“That’s right,” David says. “Don’t start chatting, don’t ask for a snack, just get in and get out.”

“Got it, boss,” Connor says.

“I should go home first,” I tell David, “that way we’re not arriving together.”

“Okay.” He pulls the Bible from his backpack. “I’ll hold on to this.”

“Dude! You’re changing religions? Pretty gutsy move three weeks before your bar mitzvah.”

“Just don’t mess this up,” David says, ignoring the religion comment.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Connor says. “I’ll be the best trunk-picker-upper this town has ever seen.”

I leave them and race across the street. Everyone’s in the kitchen gathered around the computer. Even Ray. My first reaction is that they’re looking at the list we posted. That can’t be good. I’d have to pretend I don’t know what it is. But then Aunt Bethany says, “See, Em? Watch what she does with her left foot.” They’re watching a video of a fencing match. I breathe easier.

Emily sees me first. “Hi, Tara! Want to come to the match with us? We’re leaving as soon as I put on my uniform.”

I try to figure out if it actually matters if I’m here or not when Connor comes. I guess it really doesn’t. “Sure,” I say.

“Great,” says Aunt Bethany, “we’re all going, then.”

I open my mouth to say
What about the trunk?
but shut it as soon as I realize I can’t possibly say it. Let’s hope Emily takes a long time getting her uniform on. I try to send a telepathic message to David to get Connor over here fast. Thankfully the doorbell rings before Emily even comes back downstairs.

“That must be the people coming for the trunk,” Aunt Bethany says, heading out of the kitchen.

“What people for what trunk?” Uncle Roger asks, fast on her heels.

Ray throws me a sharp glance. I can’t very well fill him in now, though.

“The old steamer trunk of my mother’s that I’ve been trying to get rid of for years,” she says as we all follow her down the hall. “The one in the attic.”