Found Things (12 page)

Chapter 20

“River.” Mama was calling me again.

I opened my eyes and knew I was in my bedroom. Saturday morning, no school, and I stretched under the covers. Then I woke up a little bit more and remembered last night and early in the morning, and Mama catching us down by the beach.

“River,” she called again.

“Coming,” I say, and tossed back my covers.

I found Mama sitting up in bed, her knees making a mountain under her chenille bedspread. “River, honey, come sit with me. But close the door—I don't want anyone to hear.”

I did as she told me and then slipped under the covers on Daddy's side. When I turned to Mama, I saw she had Theron's trophy on her night table.

So that's where it went,
I thought. Maybe Meadow Lark had nothing to do with Theron's trophy.

“Is this about last night?” I asked.

“No,” Mama say. “No more about that. I just want to talk to you, River.”

She took a sharp breath and then asked, “What do you know about Meadow Lark?”

“Well . . . I know she likes Cheetos and she has scars on her stomach that she doesn't want anyone to see. And she moved here from Arizona.”

“But where did she
come
from? Where was she born, what's her family like?”

“I know she lived in lots of other places. And she likes birds.”

Mama ran her hand back and forth across a patch of her chenille bedspread. “Yes, that Mr. Tricks,” she say. “He's been quiet lately.”

“Well, that's because he's gone.”

“Gone?”

“You didn't know that?” I say.

“I don't know much that goes on in this house,” Mama say, and drop her hand flat on the bedspread. “Obviously.”

By that I know she meant she didn't know about us going out last night.

“But you don't like birds . . . ,” I say, but I couldn't finish and looked down. “Never mind,” I mumbled.

“I don't like birds, and what, River?” Mama asked. She gently cupped my chin in her hand and urged it upward until my eyes met hers.

“Well, you don't like birds, and Meadow Lark thought that you . . .”

Surprise bloomed in Mama's eyes. “She thought
I
did something to that bird?”

“No—she just wondered.”

“Of course I didn't do anything to him. Do you think I did?”

I just knew by the shock on her face that she didn't have anything to do with Mr. Tricks. “No, not anymore.”

I was right all along. Of course Mama wouldn't harm Mr. Tricks, and guilt seared my chest knowing I'd let Meadow Lark make me doubt Mama.

“That girl is a puzzle,” she say, getting back to Meadow Lark. “Have you ever met her father?”

I shook my head. “No, but he's been sending her those letters since he went into the field. And she say she was going to give you his phone number.”

“Well, I didn't get his phone number, and what letters?”

“The ones he's been sending . . . she say she was going to show you.”

“I haven't seen any letters,” Mama say, scrunching up her eyebrows. “What about her mother—where is she?”

I shrugged. “Meadow Lark say she doesn't have one.”

“Well, she did seem to appear out of nowhere.”

“No, she appeared out of Arizona.”

At that, Mama smiled, and I smiled back. It felt good to know Mama had the same doubts about Meadow Lark that I had. In her way Meadow Lark brought Mama and me closer.

“Mama, we might not know much about Meadow Lark, but I like her a lot. She come here when I needed her.”

“For me, too.”

“You mean because of Theron?”

Mama just nodded and picked at the bedspread.

“I want to know,” I say, “what happened to you that first night Meadow Lark ate supper with us?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know—you got up in the middle of supper and went to bed, and the next morning you started humming again. I thought it had to do with Meadow Lark, like you saw something you've been looking for.”

“Well,” Mama say, bunching up the bedspread in her hands, “it was strange. What do you think I saw?”

“Promise me you won't laugh,” I say, and when she crossed her heart, I say, “Maybe you saw an angel.”

Mama didn't laugh. She looked very solemn. “Promise you won't laugh? I thought I did—but just for a moment. Then I realized it was just my imagination playing tricks with the candlelight.”

A little part of me was disappointed to hear that. Every once in a while I wanted to be able to believe, to hope that it was true. But if Mama didn't think so, then there was no reason to wonder.

“But ever since then, you've been a lot happier, and . . .” My eyes burned with tears.

“Honey?”

“It's like you're not sad anymore about Theron. It's like you forgot all about him.”

“Forgot about Theron? I could never forget about your brother. He's with me every minute of every day.”

That was the first time ever that Mama and I talked about Theron since he left us, and talking about him made it feel like a little bit of him had come back to us.

“Why doesn't anyone here ever talk about him?” I asked.

“River, just because you don't talk about something doesn't mean you're not thinking about it.”

“Is that why his trophy is in your room, because you're thinking about Theron?” I asked, looking at it. “I thought Meadow Lark took it.”

“Yes, you could say that,” she say, touching it. “I missed your brother, and this made me feel closer to him.”

“But you didn't do anything to stop him when he went away. It's like you
wanted
him to leave.”

“He needed to leave.”

“No, he didn't.” My voice come bouncing out, tripping over my tears, and I swiped at my cheeks. “You and Daddy drove him away!” I say. That warm, close feeling with Mama had disappeared.

She patted the fringe in her hand like it was a small animal. “Honey, this talk will get us nowhere. Let's get breakfast started.”

“No, I want to talk about Theron.”

“We've talked enough about your brother.”

“Well, I haven't even started talking about Theron.” I loved saying his name and hearing it spoken, even in this conversation, and wanted to say it again and again.

“He chose to go when he took that boy in the car after he was drinking and then drove off the road.”

“Do you really think Theron did that?”

“I didn't want to.”

“Well, I don't believe he did. It
can't
be true.”

Then Mama did something I never saw her do before. She bunched up her bedspread with both hands and pressed it to her eyes, and her forehead and cheeks grew as pink as a watermelon. Mama was crying so quietly. And then my tears fell too, just as quiet, and I snuggled close to her. After a little while like that, she took the bedspread from her face and wrapped her arms around me.

“My heart feels like it was clawed out,” Mama say.

“I know—that's how I feel too.”

“I don't even care anymore if it's true or not,” she say. “I just wish he were home with us.”

It had been forever since Mama and I had talked like this, and I didn't want the conversation to end yet. I still had questions.

“Why did you make that cake with Meadow Lark? We make that cake together every summer.”

“That was just a cake, River, not a birthday cake. I mean—” Suddenly, Mama swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Let's get up now, River. I have a lot to do today.”

But I didn't move. “Whose birthday?” I asked.

Mama had so many secrets. Theron, June at the cemetery, the non-birthday cake we made for nobody . . . “Mama, Daddy say June R. Wadleigh was your best friend, like a sister.”

Mama nodded.

“Well, what happened to her? How did she die?”

Mama looked down at her hands. “She was on a bridge, and there was a flood and . . .”

“Daddy tried to save her.”

Mama turned to me, looking surprised. “How did you know about that? We—”

“The men were talking about it at church,” I say, and the pieces of Mama's and Daddy's secrets were starting to fit together.

“Well, now you know why we don't want you down there, why I got so upset this morning. It was terrible, just terrible.” Mama pushed her dark hair off her face. “I don't want anything to happen to you, ever. Do you understand? You don't know what can happen when the water rises.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

Then, instead of getting up to start the day, Mama sat back against the pillows and fiddled with her fingers. She was planning to say something, so I kept quiet. Finally, she say. “Promise you won't think I'm crazy?”

I crossed my heart.

“Well, that angel I thought I saw . . . for a second or two . . . I thought it was June.”

“You thought Meadow Lark was an angel that looked like June?”

Mama turned to me, with what looked like a question in her eyes. “You promised,” she say.

“I don't think you're crazy, Mama. I think you saw . . . what you were looking for.”

She nodded and I gave her a hug, and we stayed like that for a little while.

When it was time to get up, she say, “Friends are so precious. You should do everything you can to keep your friendships. Don't be angry or jealous. Just love her.”

“I promise.” I knew Mama was thinking about June. “So, you're not going to send Meadow Lark home, even though she's a puzzle?”

“Of course not,” she say, and touched my cheek. “I like Meadow Lark. And she can stay as long as she wants.”

Chapter 21

“Where are you going now?”
Meadow Lark asked the next day.

“No place special.”

Meadow Lark had caught me just as I'd gotten my bike down from the hook in the garage. I wanted to go by myself, without Meadow Lark tagging along, but I hadn't moved fast enough.

“Just tell me where you're going,” she say.

“I'll be back in a few hours.”

I'd listened to what Mama told me about friendship, and I tried not to let anything come between Meadow Lark and me. But something still bristled inside me and made it hard to tell Meadow Lark everything

I threaded my arms through my backpack and adjusted the straps. It felt heavy loaded with Mama's spade and garden gloves and the watering can.

“What do I tell your mama? She won't like that you left.”

“Well, I have to do this, so tell her I'll be back in a few hours. When she finds out where I went, she won't mind.” After our talk the day before, I knew Mama would understand.

First I rode to Pike's Nursery and picked out a pot of lilies.

“They're on sale today,” Mrs. Pike say. “Buy one, get one. How about it? Your mother likes lilies. You want to make her happy, don't you?”

I was convinced. “More than anything,” I say.

She set both pots in a paper shopping bag, which I hung on my handlebars as I rode to the cemetery.

After Mama told me about June, I'd wanted to visit her on my own, without Mama and Daddy. That she was Mama's best friend and that Daddy had tried to save her life made her feel like a cousin. Because Mama loved June so much, I wanted to love her too, and being nice to June would be like being nice to Mama. So I figured that taking flowers to her today would be a good start.

I set my bike against a tree and carried the bag over to June's stone. Then I knelt down and pulled out the watering can, the gloves, and the spade, and began digging out the daffodils that Mama planted the last time she come.

I turned one of the lily pots upside down and eased the flower and the root ball out of the pot, just like I'd seen Mama do a hundred times. Then I put the lily in the hole the daffodil come out of. It made my shoulders ache, so I sat straight up and rolled my head and shoulders. When I looked up, I saw Meadow Lark pushing a big bike up the gravel path.

She waved at me and called, “River!”

“Great,” I muttered. I'd told her I wanted to be alone.

Ignoring her for a moment, I bent back down and put the dirt over the lily. Meadow Lark parked her bike and walked over to me. “Your mama thought you'd be here.”

That made me feel good. It meant Mama knew what was important to me.

“Then she went for a walk,” she say, “so I couldn't ask her which bike to take.”

I glanced at the bike she had parked next to mine. “That's Theron's bike! You can't touch that bike—no one can. You have to take it back, Meadow Lark.”

“Sorry—I didn't know. It was just the first one I saw.”

My heart was bloated with anger at her, and I couldn't keep it in anymore. “You took my room, you took my mama, and now you're taking my brother's bike. Why don't you just move in and take over my whole family?”

“Oh, if I did that,” she say, looking puzzled, “would you still be there?”

“Meadow Lark . . . I thought we were friends.”

“But aren't we?” she asked.

“Sometimes I'm not sure.”

“River,” she say, kneeling down beside me, “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to do any of those things, honest. I'm just not good at being a friend. I've never really had one because we move all the time.”

“Wait,” I say, “does that mean you'll move away from here, too?”

“I hope not, but we might. My dad's job moves us all over the place.”

“Well, I don't want you to leave,” I say. I just wanted to be friends with her. I wanted everything to be okay between us.

She turned toward the bike and say, “I'll take it home now.”

“You're here now, so you might as well stay,” I say. “But take it straight home when we're done, okay?”

She smiled. “Okay, good,” she say, and in that moment I knew we were friends again. Meadow Lark didn't mean to do the things she did—it was just her way.

“Who is this?” she asked, turning to June's headstone.

“She was Mama's best friend, but she died.”

“Obviously,” she say, and laughed a little.

I laughed too, and then say, “I'm almost done planting the flower, and then I just need to water it.”

“I'll get that,” she say, and filled the watering can from the faucet poking out of the ground. With me planting and her watering, we took care of June together.

“Where are you going to plant that one?” she asked, pointing to the second lily.

“Nowhere. It was an extra.”

“Someone should get it, right?”

“Mama always takes the extras to the hospital,” I say, and thought. “Meadow Lark, can you take my backpack home? I have somewhere else to go first.”

“Sure, but why are being so mysterious?” she asked.

“I'll tell you when I get home.”

“Is Benjamin still here?” I asked at the nurses' desk.

“Last name?”

“You know—that boy with the big cast.”

“Dunne, Benjamin . . . yes, he's still here, but he's waiting to go home, so you'd better hurry.” Then he stared very obviously at the lily pot.

“Thanks,” I say, and hurry down the hall to Benjamin's room.

Benjamin was sitting up in a chair when I got to his room. His leg, now in a black boot up to his knee, was propped on the edge of the bed, and he was reading a comic book of
Treasure Island
.

“Hello, River,” he say.

“How's your leg?” I asked.

“Password?”

“Jim—too easy.”

“Amazing. It's almost good as new,” Benjamin say, and tapped the boot.

“You heal fast,” I say.

“Will you have a seat?” he asked, waving to another chair. “I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you for refreshments, as I've been discharged.”

“No, thanks. I just come here to ask you a question.”

“You still have that charming way of speaking,” he say, and smile. “What's your question?”

“Have you ever tutored anyone before?”

“I have. I'm especially good at science and math and literature, and not as good at history or other languages, except Latin. Do you need a tutor?”

“Not me. Do you remember Daniel, the boy across the hall?”

“The boy who almost died. I scared you then, didn't I? I apologize for that. But actually, he did seem a bit lifeless for a few days.”

“So you can tutor Daniel in science and math?”

“Certainly. If he'd like me to.”

“Good,” I say. “These are for you.”

“And if I'd said I wouldn't tutor him?” he asked.

“They would still be for you.”

Just then, the feather I'd caught the day before started prickling me through my shorts. I set the lily on his rolling tray and scratched my thigh.

“Thank you,” Benjamin say. “As you can see, my room has no flowers, so thank you for these. . . . Is something wrong?”

“No . . . yes,” I say, and pulled the feather out of my pocket. “This was poking me.”

Benjamin studied the feather in my hand. “If I were you, I would take note of that. Poking generally means your attention is desired.”

“It's a feather, Benjamin.”

“Ah, but from what . . . or whom? Do you know someone with white feathers?”

“Only Mr. Tricks.”

“Then perhaps Mr. Tricks is trying to tell you something,” he say. Then he picked up his comic book and continued reading it.

Was Benjamin right? Was Mr. Tricks trying to tell me something?

If the feather come from across the river, I thought, maybe that's where Mr. Tricks was. But that would mean I'd have to cross the bridge to get there.