Sara, Book 3 (7 page)

C
HAPTER
13

A
fter school the next day, the two girls sat perched high up in the tree house. Sara thought it was odd that Seth, again, had
told Annette he wouldn’t be at the tree house. And even though it didn’t feel comfortable to Sara that he was staying away
again, she was happy for the opportunity to continue her conversation with Annette.

“Oh, is that your father I see high up there in the tree trying to get a picture of us wee things down here?” Sara teased,
trying to bring back the mood from yesterday.

Annette laughed. “No, I think that’s him in the helicopter up there. The top of the tree is way too close.”

The girls sat quietly. Sara wished that they could just pick right up from where they left off yesterday, but 24 hours had
passed, and neither of them were at the clear, high place they had been the day before.

Annette broke the silence. “Someday, maybe I’ll write a book about it.”

“About what it’s like for someone . . .” Sara stopped in the middle of her sentence. She just couldn’t say the words.

“Not so much about what it’s like to have
someone you love die,
” Annette did complete Sara’s sentence. “But to help the other people who are close to those people feel more comfortable
being around them.”

Did Sara understand Annette correctly? Her book wouldn’t be written to help people who had lost loved ones, but instead, to
help the people who know the people who had lost the loved ones?

“Sara, the hardest thing, after a while, I mean, is the way people act around you once they hear. They don’t know what to
say. And in truth, it really doesn’t matter very much what they say, because no matter what it is, it all feels bad: If they
don’t know about it, you think they should have known. If they do know, you wish they didn’t. If they try to soothe you, you
hate how sappy they are, and if they don’t try to soothe you, they seem uncaring. They’re in an impossible situation, and
I’d like to write a book that would somehow help that.”

Sara leaned back against the tree and looked at her new friend. She could hardly believe what a dear person Annette was. She
didn’t think that she’d ever heard anything so unselfish in her whole life.

“Oh, Sara, don’t look at me like I’m noble or anything. It’s not like that.”

Sara blinked her eyes and sat up straight, looking at Annette, wanting to understand what was going on in her mind. Sara couldn’t
find her place in this.

“My best friend, Caroline, said, ‘I’m glad it was your mother and not mine.’”

Sara winced.

“At the time, I thought that was just about the meanest thing that anybody could ever say to anybody. But I don’t feel that
way now. Oh, it may have been better if she hadn’t said it, but for heaven’s sake, how could she not feel that way. And what
in the world is wrong with saying what you feel. And what could be more natural than to feel that way. My friend did nothing
wrong. She didn’t mean anything bad by it. And most of all, she was in an impossible situation where there really wasn’t anything
that she could have said that would have made me feel better.

“Once I heard a lady in the grocery store telling someone that it wasn’t so bad when a wealthy family loses a parent, because
they can afford to hire people to help, but that a real tragedy is when a poor family loses a parent, because then the little
children have to go without good care.”

Sara squinted her eyes as she winced.

“I know.” Annette smiled. “And when she left her cart for a little while, I pinched her bread and punched holes in her tomatoes.”

Sara laughed. “She got off easy.”

“No, Sara, that’s my point! People aren’t being unkind on purpose. They just don’t know what to say. And the reason they don’t
know what to say is because nothing that they might say would make any real difference. It isn’t something that anybody can
do for you. My mom says—”

Annette stopped suddenly, as if she hadn’t meant to start saying something. Then she began, “I guess I want two things, really:
I want people who are hurting from the death of someone they love to understand that they will feel better again; and that
it doesn’t have to take a long time—and for those around them to just relax and wait for that to happen. Everybody’s just
too worried about this death thing.”

Sara looked up suddenly and stared hard into Annette’s face. She could hardly believe her ears. That sounded exactly like
something Solomon would say. Without ever meeting Solomon, Annette knew it, too.

“Not too long after my mother died, my aunt brought a beautiful, white fluffy kitten to us. My dad didn’t like that she brought
it. I think he was really mad at her for doing it. My aunt put the kitten down in the middle of our living-room floor, and
the little cat jumped right up into my mother’s favorite chair; my mom loved doing needlework there by the window. The cat
curled up on the cushion and laid her head on her paws, as if to say, ‘There now, this is where I belong.’

“My dad pushed the cat off of the chair, and then that silly cat jumped up onto another chair and another and onto the sofa;
I think she climbed on every piece of furniture in the house. I remember chasing her all over the house. I don’t think there
was one single place that she didn’t sniff. And when she was finished, she jumped right back into my mother’s chair.

“I picked her up and put her in my lap, and she licked my face with her scratchy tongue and purred. I remember feeling so
happy. I remember laughing and laughing. It felt so good.

“I heard my father scolding my aunt in the other room. He said, ‘A thousand kittens won’t bring her mother back!’

“And my aunt replied, ‘I’m not trying to bring her mother back—I’m trying to bring Annette back.’

“And I remember thinking.
Yes, I’m back.

”Sara felt thrill bumps bumping up all over her body. She could hardly believe the things she was hearing from Annette. She
knew, without any doubt, that it was time to share her secret about Solomon with her new friend. She could hardly wait to
find Seth to tell him that she’d changed her mind. She wanted to tell Annette everything. And most of all, Sara wanted Annette
to meet her friend Solomon.

C
HAPTER
14

S
ara left school as quickly as she could. She hoped that she would meet up with Seth on the way to the tree house so that she
could tell him her new decision about letting Annette know about Solomon. But Seth and Annette had already arrived and were,
in fact, waiting for Sara.

“Hi, guys,” Sara said breathlessly as she climbed up into the tree house.

“Hi, Sara.” Seth grinned. He was glad to see her.

The three of them sat awkwardly looking at each other. Then all of a sudden, Annette blurted out, “My mom says that I should.
. . .” Her voice trailed off. She looked down and fidgeted with the locket hanging around her neck.

Sara and Seth looked at each other. “What in the world—”

“She said that you aren’t like most kids. She said that you understand death. She said that you have a dead friend, too, and
that your dead friend knows me, too.”

Sara and Seth looked at each other. Neither of them knew what to say.

“Well,” Sara began, “our friend isn’t exactly dead anymore. I mean, he was dead, but now he’s not.”

Annette squinted her eyes and looked at Sara, trying to make sense of what she’d just heard. “He was dead, but isn’t now?”

“See, he was alive.” Seth tried to help. “Solomon, that is, that’s his name, but then Sara’s little brother and his friend
killed him with a gun.”

Now Annette’s eyes were open wide. “Killed him with a gun? These boys killed this man, Solomon, with a gun?”

“Oh no, Annette, Solomon’s not a man. He’s an owl.”

“Your dead friend is an owl?”

Sara and Seth looked at each other. This was coming out all wrong. “Well, he’s not dead now. But he is an owl. A talking owl.”

Annette took a deep breath and leaned back against the tree. “Oh, I see.”

Sara and Seth sat quietly, looking at each other and then at Annette. This wasn’t going well at all.
What if Annette doesn’t believe us? What if she just thinks we’re crazy? And worst of all, what if she tells somebody else what we’ve told her?
Sara wished that they hadn’t tried to tell Annette about Solomon. But it was too late to take it back.

“What do you mean that this Solomon owl was dead but now is alive?”

Sara took a deep breath. “Well,” she said, hesitantly, “it’s sort of a long story, but here goes.” She absentmindedly pushed
the sleeves up on her sweater as if she were really getting ready to go to work on something. Seth sat down next to Sara,
looking at her intently. He folded his long legs up and leaned forward as if he were eager to hear the interesting story that
was about to be told. Sara could feel him next to her, and she felt a feeling of comfort wash over her as she realized that
this time the two of them were in this together. She didn’t feel so far out on a limb in exposing her weirdness to their new
friend, as she had before when she was all alone explaining all of this to Seth.

So much had happened in Sara’s life since the meeting of her dear friend Solomon that she had a hard time finding the beginning
place. She had learned so much from Solomon, and in many ways, it felt unnecessary to even try to go back to the beginning.
She wasn’t sure she could, even if she tried.

Seth could see that Sara was having a hard time getting started, but he felt that it was best that she tell the story because,
after all, Solomon was Sara’s friend first.

Sara remembered the snowy day she had found Solomon sitting on a fence post on Thacker’s Trail, and her amazement when he
spoke to her as if owls sitting on fence posts talk to little girls all the time. Sara thought about how smart Solomon was,
and how he had answers to every question that she could ever ask. And she remembered how Solomon had shown her how to fly
and had taken her and Seth on wonderful night flights around their little mountain town.

Her mind was spinning. She just couldn’t decide where to begin. She wanted Annette to know everything about Solomon all at
once. But what was the best way to begin?

Sara,
Sara heard Solomon’s voice in her head,
who I am is who I am, and no amount of explanation will change that. Annette will adapt to the idea of me, just as you did and just as Seth did. All is well here. Just begin.

Seth saw a feeling of calm wash over Sara, and he relaxed and leaned back against the tree. He could feel that all was well,
and he could feel Sara’s inspiration beginning to flow.

“Well, Annette, I guess I’d like to begin by just explaining to you who Solomon is.”

“He’s an owl, right?” Annette chimed in quickly.

Seth and Sara looked at each other and grinned.

“Well, yes, he is that, but oh, Annette, he is so much more! Solomon says that we are all much more than we think we are.”
Her eyes studied Annette’s face carefully, watching for any sign of alarm or disbelief.

“Go on,” Annette encouraged.

“He says that while we are here, in these bodies that we can see and feel, that there is another part of us that is much older,
that never dies—and that that part of us is really here with us all the time. Solomon says that some people call that part
of us our Soul, but Solomon calls it our Inner Being.”

Annette sat quietly.

“Solomon says our Inner Being lives forever. And that sometimes it expresses itself in a physical experience. He says it’s
not like being alive or dead, because there is no such thing as dead. It’s just that sometimes that Inner Being comes into
a physical form and sometimes it doesn’t—but it is always alive and always happy, just the same.”

“Keep going,” Annette said.

“We are, like, extensions of that older Inner Self. And when we are really feeling wonderful, it means that we’re allowing
more of our Inner Self to flow through us in that time. But when we don’t feel so good, you know, like when we’re afraid or
mad or something—then we aren’t allowing who we really are to shine through.”

A tear pushed out of Annette’s eye and rolled down her cheek.

Sara looked at Annette. She didn’t know if she should go on or not.

“My mom told me almost the same thing, Sara. She came to me in a dream, and she told me that she would talk to me if I wanted—but
only when I’m happy. She said I wouldn’t be able to hear her unless I was happy. When I woke up, I cried and cried. I didn’t
think it was possible, now that she was dead, to ever be happy again. And so I thought that I would never get to talk to her
again.

“But then, my aunt brought us that little kitten, and the kitten licked my face with her scratchy tongue over and over again.
And while I was laughing, I heard my mother’s voice. She said, ‘She’s a beautiful cat, Annette, why don’t you call her Sara.’

“I was so happy, because then I understood what my mother had meant. I mean, I was still real sad when I thought about her
dying and everything, but in that moment, I realized that if a little kitten could play with me and distract me from my sadness
enough so that I could hear my mother, then there must be lots of other things that I could think about that would help me
hear her, too.”

Sara and Seth listened in amazement. Sara wanted to hug her and kiss her. She wondered what she had ever been worried about.
Annette had already come to understand, through her own life experience, much of what Sara had wanted to tell her.

The three of them sat huddled in a small circle, quietly looking at each other, eyes filled with happy tears of recognition;
recognition of one another and of well-being. Sara stretched her arms out, putting one around Annette and the other around
Seth. Seth and Annette reached out and did the same thing. They sat huddled, their hearts singing.

I think that’s my cue,
Solomon said, perched on the top branch of the big tree.
There could never be a better time than this.
And, in a swift and graceful dive from high overhead, Solomon descended on his three featherless friends, landing right in
the middle of their huddle.

Room for one more?
he asked.

“Solomon!” Sara squealed. “We are so glad to see you!”

Well, my fine featherless friends, it is nice to be seen.

Hello, Annette, it’s very nice to formally meet you.

Annette’s mouth dropped wide open. She looked at Sara and then at Seth and then at Solomon and then at Sara. Her mouth was
moving, but no words were coming out.

Sara and Seth sat beaming. They recognized how Annette must be feeling, because it hadn’t been very long since they had first
heard Solomon speak.

“Well,” Sara said, “it’s like they always say: A talking owl is worth a thousand words.”

Seth and Annette laughed hard.

Well, kids, I can’t stay,
Solomon said.
I’m late for my Spanish lesson. But I’ll be back tomorrow.
We can talk then, if you like. Hasta la vista.
And quick as a wink, Solomon was up and away.

Sara and Seth burst out laughing.

“Not only does he talk, he talks in more than one language,” Annette said, laughing so hard that tears were running down her
face.

“Apparently so,” Sara said, still laughing. “There’s never a dull moment around here. Always perfect and always changing.”

The three of them sat motionless on the platform.

“Wanna swing from the tree?” Seth finally asked.

“Nah,” Sara said.

“Nah,” Annette said.