Blossom Promise (14 page)

Byars and her new husband, Ed, coming up the aisle on their wedding day in June 1950.

Byars and Ed with their daughters Laurie and Betsy in 1955. The family lived for two years in one of these barracks apartments while Ed got a degree at the University of Illinois and Byars started writing.

Byars with her children Nan and Guy, circa 1958.

Byars with Ed and their four children in Marfa, Texas, in July 1968. The whole family gathered to cheer for Ed, who was flying in a ten-day national contest.

Byars at the Newbery Award dinner in 1971, where she won the Newbery Medal for
The Summer of the Swans
.

Byars with Laurie, Betsy, Nan, Guy, and Ed at her daughter Betsy’s wedding on December 17, 1977.

Byars in 1983 in South Carolina with her Yellow Bird, the plane in which she got her pilot’s license.

Byars and her husband in their J-3 Cub, which they flew from the Atlantic coast to the Pacific coast in March 1987, just like the characters in Byars’s novel
Coast to Coast.

Byars speaking at Waterstone’s Booksellers in Newcastle, England, in the late 1990s.

Byars and Ed in front of their house in Seneca, South Carolina, where they have lived since the mid-1990s.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Blossom Family Series

“Junior.”

Junior was digging under the pine trees. His mother called again from the porch.

“Junior!”

Junior still didn’t hear her. He was intent. He dug carefully, lifting shallow scoops of earth on his shovel, then throwing them sideways into the brush. Sweat rolled down his shiny face.

“Junior Blossom!”

Now he looked up. He made a visor with one hand and shaded his eyes from the late afternoon sun.

“What are you up to, Junior?”

“I’m making something.”

“Junior …”

“It’s something for school.”

“It doesn’t look like something for school. It looks to me like you’re digging a hole.” This was an accusation.

“No, no, it’s not a hole.”

Junior looked down at his feet. He had been digging since he got home from school, and as he dug, he covered his excavation carefully with boards.

The boards jagged across the pine needles like a streak of wooden lightning.

“A hole is round, Mom. Does this look round?”

He spread out his arms to take in the panorama of his digging.

“Junior Blossom, you know what I told you about holes.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What?”

“You told me not to dig them. You said people could break their necks falling into holes. You said you knew a cow one time that fell in a hole and you said your daddy made you and your brothers dig a ramp to get it out. You said even though you had not helped your brothers dig the hole, you had to help dig the ramp, which was not fair. See, I remember every single thing you ever told me about holes.”

“Then why are you digging one?”

“THIS is NOT a HOLE!” Junior emphasized the important words to get the message across.

“So?” his mom said. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Junior—”

“A good surprise,” he said to ward off what he knew was coming. It came anyway.

“I have had it with your surprises. You made wings that broke both your legs. You made a coyote trap that trapped YOU. And your UFO ended up on Old Man Benson’s chicken house.”

“This is different, Mom, really. You’ll like this one.” He stepped over his streak of lightning so he could have a talk with his mother.

He cupped his hands around his mouth to make the talk more intimate. “Mom, remember what I told you last week about school?”

She sighed.

“I said I didn’t like it, remember?”

“That was not exactly headline news, Junior. I’ve heard that before a time or two.”

“Well, I take that back. I do like school. I love school. School is my favorite thing in the whole entire world.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You’ll see on Friday. That’s just one more day to wait. This is Thursday. Tomorrow’s Friday. Something wonderful is going to happen to me on Friday.”