Starbird Murphy and the World Outside (40 page)

That's when I realized that I hadn't moved yet; I was so hypnotized by observing the strange and solemn dance before me. I didn't want to, but I made myself turn to face EARTH, the man claiming to be my father, his blue eyes dripping with disappointment. I knew then that even if EARTH decided not to go to California, even if he moved back to the Farm again, I couldn't think of him the same way. I couldn't let him tell me what the Cosmos wanted for me. My own inner voice was getting louder by the minute.

I got up and walked to Iron's side of the barn and stood with Fern Moon and Doug Fir, who were holding each other tenderly. I was heartbroken. I was scared of the future and how we would manage now that we were splintered. I was afraid of life without EARTH, and afraid of following my own voice. I reached out and found Doug's hand and squeezed it hard with mine. He took Fern Moon's hand in his other. Fern reached out for Indus, who extended his free hand to Caelum. Each person in the group reached down the line for someone else until we were all linked together, one to another. My free hand reached out to Iron.

 34 

E
ARTH and the people traveling with him left that same day for Seattle and eventually California. Buses and cars were packed with items, stripping the house of most of its utensils and bedding, but leaving all the farm equipment for us. There was surprisingly little bickering as items were divided up, as if people were just too sad to fight over throw pillows and cheese graters.

Sun and Doug stayed with Iron near the farm equipment, in case anyone tried to start conflicts or damage property. I wanted quiet and isolation, so I tucked myself into the chicken coop where the chirping of the flock blocked out other noise.

I was alone for a few minutes before Ursa rushed in and collapsed into a crying heap in my lap. “She can't make me go! It's not fair. Why should my mother pick for me?” she said between sobs. “I hate California.”

I held Ursa's shoulders as they shook. “California is sunny all the time, even in February,” I said. “No more walking through the rainy mud to the chicken coop. You'll go to the beach every day.”

“But I want everyone to come, and not everyone is coming,” Ursa said into my sweater.

I felt so responsible. Everything was fine before I got my Calling, before I went to Seattle and discovered Arnold Muller.

“I'm so sorry,” I said, starting to cry myself. We just stayed there, on the plywood floor surrounded by clucking chickens, crying and crying.

 
 

There were more wretched scenes before the caravan pulled out. Saying good-bye to Adam and Eve was mortifying. Hugging Kale and Eris made me start crying all over again. My Family was breaking up, and I was the one who broke it.

I watched Lyra stuff jackets and several pairs of shoes into the back of a VW van, her silky braids sweeping over the taillights. When Indus tapped her on the shoulder, she turned and gave him a cold look, crossing her arms over her chest. He attempted to hug her, but she kept her folded arms between them. Then she walked over and put her hand on Cham's back as he closed the hatchback on a car.

Sun carried Uranus's bags for her and helped her into the passenger seat of a van. I watched him kiss her cheek, his mouth a thin, flat line.

EARTH said his standard good-byes, bowing, hugging, and laying his hands on member's heads. When he got to Iron, he offered him a handshake. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I heard him say.

“Don't seem to have much choice,” Iron said back, shaking EARTH's hand.

When EARTH got to me, he said, “Daughter,” and opened his arms. I fell into them, allowing myself to feel it one last time, the protection of his shelter and his love. But it didn't feel the way it used to. His arms felt just like the arms of a man—bony, peculiar, and aging. I didn't feel any safer than I did hugging Fern Moon, or anybody.

“There will always be a place for you in California,” he said, touching my head with his hand. It was a nice thing to hear, but I was sure I would never go.

As the caravan pulled out along the gravel drive, I stood watching, just the way I had watched EARTH leave for his Mission three years earlier. Some people waved, some cried, others were just angry and silent. EARTH was in the last vehicle, a van driven by Adam. Both of them waved. Doug sat on the front porch with Indus and Caelum, rolling his tobacco. Gamma and Adeona disappeared into the house. Iron stood in the gravel with me and Fern. As the last vehicle drove out of sight, Iron put his hand on my shoulder.

Epilogue

O
ur last day together on the Farm, I wondered when I would ever see EARTH again. It happened much sooner than I expected. Two months later, he came back to Seattle for Ephraim's funeral. Ephraim died of pneumonia, exacerbated by the weakness of his liver from alcoholism. I spent a lot of time with him in the hospital during his last weeks. Cham delayed going to California to wait for his dad, and he's the one who told Ephraim about the breakup of the Family.

I wish he hadn't. Ephraim talked about it incessantly, first demanding to be transferred to a hospital in California near EARTH and then begging us to sell the Farm and keep the Family together. “EARTH saved my life, Starbird,” he said with oxygen tubes traveling into each of his nostrils. “He saved a lot of us. None of this money stuff matters.”

I felt a familiar guilt, nagging questions about my role. “We're just changing,” I told Ephraim. “It's not like we will never see each other again.”

That was the last time we talked.

V was inconsolable after. She spent all her time with Devin or alone. Since Ephraim left Beacon House to the Family in his will, we would have to wait and see what would happen with our living situation. But before he passed away, Ephraim asked V to take his position on the board of directors, the position vacated by her mother, Venus Ocean. So at least Venus would have a vote in what happened to the property.

 
 

A van full of Family members came up from California for the memorial service and Story Night at Beacon House the following Sunday. It was mostly elders who had known Ephraim for a long time.

A caravan from the Farm came, too. Doug Fir and Fern Moon held hands a lot, and whenever they were in the same room, she was hugging him around his waist. She was the happiest I had seen her in ages. Doug still looked haunted, but he told me he was beginning to relax with the familiar sounds of the Farm all around him. His color looked better from a healthy diet, and he cut his hair and shaved his face clean. He and Iron were spending a lot of time together, he told me, and he was learning to play the banjo. He took my old cot in the yurt and was living with Fern Moon.

“It's funny. I couldn't wait to get out of the yurt when I was fifteen,” he told me. “Now it feels comforting to wake up and know my mom is right there.”

When I took Fern upstairs to see my room, she cried. She cried again when Io showed her some of my new clothes. During a heart-to-heart on my bed, Fern told me that EARTH couldn't possibly know if he was my father. She said that she didn't even know.

“Do you believe the Cosmos could have told him?” I asked.

“I don't know if I've ever really believed that.”

“I did,” I said. “Now I don't know what I believe. But I think I feel okay not knowing,” I said. “Right now, I'm mostly into asking questions.”

“Are you doing okay in school?” asked Fern.

“I'm getting an A in math. And I really like my horticulture teacher; she grew up on a farm. My friend Rory and I are planting a medicinal garden in the school's P-Patch for our midterm project.”

Fern cried again.

 
 

Indus came from the Farm, too. He sat on our couch and played the harmonica with his muscular hands. He told me he had met a girl in Bellingham, a yoga teacher, and that they had been dating for a month. I didn't really feel jealous when he told me. I mostly just felt happy for him.
Indus is too old for me
, I thought.
I'd much rather date someone my own age
.

Sun actually came to the memorial and sat in the same room with his father and mother. He must have cared very deeply about Ephraim. Even Felicia showed up, cried off all her mascara, and left before the speeches were made.

That Story Night was full of instruments and stories, giant platters of food, and only people who called themselves Ephraim's Family. It was just what he would have wanted. We all gathered tightly into the living room, and EARTH said many stirring things about Ephraim, standing by the mantel. He talked about how much Ephraim had given to the people he loved, how generous he was and how full of light. At one point, EARTH's voice gave out, and he had to stop speaking while he took some breaths. He told us to keep loving one another, and then he walked away into the kitchen and we heard the back screen door open and close.

EARTH left for California that evening after paying for Ephraim's burial plot. Cham went with him, taking all the possessions of his and Ephraim's that he wanted to keep. I gave Cham the navy-blue dress I wore for the apple pressing and asked him to deliver it to Ursa. Before leaving, EARTH told us again that there was room for us all in the California Mansion. He didn't display hard feelings toward Iron. When he left, he shook Iron's hand and said, “I'll see you again in February for court.”

 
 

“Starbird, can I talk to you on the back porch?” Iron asked as Family members collected dirty plates, moved food into the kitchen, and put the furniture back into place. I got my coat and followed him out back through the screen door.

It was getting dark out, so Iron lit two candles sitting on the cement steps that led down to the grass. It was late November, and cold air knocked the wind chimes around above our heads. I could see the wet mist in the air when I looked toward the streetlight.