True Colors (23 page)

If she really was my mother.

Maybe it was just because I’d been waiting and watching so many years for my mother, and maybe it was because I wanted so much to believe that Myrtle
was
my mother, but I heard the little voice say:

She is.

And I believed it.

At milking time, I patted the cows and hugged Dolly, already missing them. I planned on riding Dolly to the train station, figuring either she’d walk back home on her own or someone would return her. I’d miss her, but maybe Myrtle would buy me a horse, too.

I didn’t think Myrtle would buy me cows.

I thought how things would be here after I left: Raleigh would keep helping around the
Monitor
, Mr. Gilpin would
keep trying to scoop Mr. Allard on stories, Mrs. Wells would keep telling her boring stories, the quilting ladies would keep meeting and quilting, the Wright brothers would keep tormenting kids and animals throughout the town. It made me feel hollow inside, realizing my leaving wouldn’t change anything. Hannah would be farming by herself again, but everyone would pitch in to help, just like they had when she was in the hospital. She’d get by, and things would go on pretty much as they always had. It would be almost like I never existed at all.

I tried to cheer myself up with thinking of all the new things I’d be seeing, like the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean, and Hollywood stars driving by in their fancy cars. I might even get Humphrey Bogart’s autograph!

I tried
not
to think about how much I would miss Hannah.

I didn’t want to leave without trying to make things right between me and Nadine, either. It took me a while to work up enough courage to walk over and knock on the Tiltons’ door.

Mrs. Tilton answered.

“Is Nadine here?” I asked. “I came to apologize.”

Mrs. Tilton looked at me, sadly.

“I’m sorry, Blue,” she said, “but Nadine doesn’t want to talk to you. I’ll tell her that you’re sorry, and I’ll try to get her to come over to talk to you, but I’m not promising anything.”

I nodded and stumbled down the steps. Even if Nadine did come over (and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t—she could be awfully stubborn), I’d be gone. I wondered if Nadine would miss me once she realized I was gone for good.

I knew I’d miss her, even with the fights we’d had. Through the summers I’d known her, we’d had more good times than bad.

“Blue?” Mrs. Tilton said, and I turned.

“You’re the reason we’ve kept coming here all these years,” Mrs. Tilton said. “Nadine’s never been good at making friends—goodness, I don’t have to tell you that she’s not the easiest person to get along with—but having you for a friend has made all the difference for her. Thank you.”

Nadine had bragged about all her friends in Washington, D.C., and New York, but I think, deep down, I’d somehow known that wasn’t true, either. She’d needed me for a friend as much as I’d needed her.

I was thinking so hard about Nadine that I didn’t see the dark car pulling into the driveway, and jumped sideways at the last minute to avoid getting hit.

I was surprised to see Mr. Tilton behind the wheel. Did his showing up mean the Tiltons
weren’t
getting a divorce? Maybe they wouldn’t be selling the camp after all. Well, it didn’t matter now. I’d be gone, but at least Nadine would be happy about her parents getting back together.

I waved, but Mr. Tilton just stared straight ahead like he
didn’t see me, and he didn’t wave back. That didn’t seem like him. Maybe Nadine had told him what I’d said, and he was mad at me, too.

I stood and watched as Mr. Tilton pulled into the yard. Nadine came flying out of the house screaming “Daddy!” and ran into his arms. He kissed her and put his arm around her shoulders as they walked together into the house.

Tears stung my eyes. I wondered if my reunion with Myrtle would be anything like that.

I stumbled home and slipped upstairs, my heart feeling as heavy as one of Hannah’s old sadirons. I’d always thought Nadine and I would be best friends forever; now I didn’t have a friend in the world.

I sat at my desk and pulled out my Big Chief tablet. My heart wasn’t in it, but I knew I ought to finish writing up the stories of the town mothers before I left. Maybe working on them would help take my mind off Nadine, I thought, but just as I began writing, Hannah called up the stairs for me to help her with the firewood instead.

She split while I piled it in the woodshed. Hannah said firewood warmed you three times: when you cut it, when you split and piled it, and when you burned it. I felt guilty when I thought how Hannah would have to fill up the woodbox by herself this winter—I wouldn’t be around to help.

“Storm’s coming,” Hannah said. “Feels like it’ll be a real glysterie.”

I did chores as usual, and carried a bowl of food out to
Cat. I wanted to tell her about my plans for finding Myrtle, but Cat wasn’t by the barn. I was already late with my deliveries, so I had to leave the food.

Dolly knew the storm was coming and moved along faster than she usually did. I wanted to get home before the storm hit, too. I hoped it would be over before morning. It would be too bad if the sesquicentennial got cancelled. Besides, I didn’t want to have to ride to the train station in the rain.

I’d hoped to see Cat waiting by the barn when I got home, but she wasn’t. I put Dolly in the barn and scooped some grain into her feedbox. I wondered if Dolly would miss me when I was gone. I knew I’d miss her.

I realized Cat wasn’t in the barn, but I looked anyway. Hannah noticed my worried expression when I came in.

“Did you see Cat today?” I asked.

Hannah shook her head.

“She may be off hunting,” she said, but I knew something was wrong. Hannah held my supper, warming, while I searched through the orchard and the fields, calling until it got dark. The thunderstorm moved in, the wind whipping the rain sideways (a real glysterie, just like Hannah had said), and I came in,
looking
like a drowned cat and more worried than ever.

After supper, I stood on the porch, the rain drumming on the roof and falling in sheets off the porch.

“Cat! Cat!” I called, my voice echoing in the darkness.
I’d wondered if Cat would miss me, too, but I guessed not since it looked like she’d already left.

“You’ll catch your death out here,” Hannah said. “Come in and get warm.” She turned on the radio and heated some milk on the stove, and we drank cups of hot cocoa while listening to Duke Ellington and Nat King Cole.

I wondered what music Myrtle liked. Would she and I listen to Johnny Ray and Patti Page instead? I pictured Myrtle holding my hands and teaching me how to do the jitterbug and the Lindy Hop.

I looked over at Hannah. She was humming and tapping her foot, and I knew I was going to miss nights like this.

chapter 30

I kept stealing glances at Hannah, trying to make sure I locked her image in my brain so I’d never forget her. I tried not to think how Hannah’s heart might break into flinders when I left.

A gust of wind shook the house, and the rain sounded like bullets on the roof.

“I declare, I haven’t seen it rain this hard since the ’27 flood!” Hannah said. “That’s certainly going to put a damper on all the celebrations. And after Mr. Gilpin’s worked so hard.”

I thought how upset Mr. Gilpin would be if the Runaway Pond pageant were washed out by a real flood!

“You know, after the celebration, I was thinking of starting another quilt,” Hannah said. “My wrist has probably healed enough. Maybe you’d like to help me with this one.”

I nodded, even though I knew I wouldn’t be around to
help with this quilt or any other. The clock chimed nine times.

“Time for bed,” Hannah said, as if it were a regular night. As far as she knew, it was.

“Good night,” I said, when what I really wanted to say was, Goodbye.

In my room, I tried to write a note to Hannah, but I couldn’t find the words, so I crumpled up the paper and threw it away. I hoped she’d know how I felt about her. You can be mad at someone and still love them.

I folded the quilt and put it in my bag of clothes. I also added a photograph of me and Hannah having cotton candy at the county fair. Mr. Gilpin had taken the picture when I was four years old. I’d gotten more cotton candy in my hair than in my mouth.

I heard voices downstairs. One of them sounded like Mrs. Tilton. Had Nadine changed her mind, I wondered.

I folded the stories I’d written and put them in a drawer. Being a writer had been a foolish dream. Once I got to California, I’d go back to my plans to be a lion tamer after all, or a trapeze artist.

I heard Hannah’s footsteps on the stairs. I shoved the bag I’d packed under the bed just as Hannah walked in. From the look on her face, I knew that something awful had happened.

“Keith,” Hannah said, her voice cracking. “He’s MIA, missing in action.”

Missing in action. What did that mean, exactly, I wondered. Was Keith dead?

“The telegram was delivered to Mr. Tilton last night, and he drove up to tell Mrs. Tilton and Nadine,” Hannah continued. “They’ll be driving home tomorrow. Mrs. Tilton just came by to tell me, and to say goodbye.”

I closed my eyes, memories of Keith moving through my mind like a movie: how he’d do perfect jackknife dives off the dock; that time he came over wearing his father’s fedora to do an impersonation of Humphrey Bogart for Hannah; diving for, and catching, a line drive to the outfield, and then holding it up, triumphant, his laugh like the strike of a match. I couldn’t imagine never swimming with him again, never hearing another one of his silly knock-knock jokes, never seeing him again.

It wasn’t fair. Keith was so smart and handsome, fun and funny at the same time. It was too bad we couldn’t trade him for Raleigh.

The minute I thought it, I was ashamed, but it made sense, really. Why couldn’t it have been Raleigh instead? Raleigh wasn’t going to get any better, and Keith had so much to look forward to. He would have gotten married, had kids, found
his
calling. Raleigh would never have any of that.

I was sure I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but I must have because I woke to sunshine streaming through the
window and the sky washed clear and clean. The sesquicentennial would go on as planned.

And I’d be leaving forever.

My arms and legs felt like lead as I dressed. This would be the last time I’d wake up in this room. The last time for a lot of things.

I made myself smile as I went down the stairs, acting like it was just an ordinary day, but my smile felt as painted-on and fake as a clown’s.

At breakfast, Hannah looked sad, and I knew she was thinking about Keith. I tried not to think about how she’d look later, once she found out I was gone, too.

I wouldn’t be missing in action, just missing.

I wondered if the Tiltons had already left for home. Well, they were all in my past now. I had to start looking at my future, a new future with Myrtle.

“Well, I’ll be headed into town now,” Hannah said. “I’ll see you later on.”

“Okay,” I said carefully, afraid my voice would give me away.

I watched Hannah drive out of the yard, and the lump in my throat seemed as big as a baseball.

I threw my bag of clothes over my shoulder, feeling a little like a hobo from the Depression, and stood at the door, drinking in the sight and smell of the kitchen for the last time. My eyes fell upon my college fund jar.

Enough money to get me all the way to California and then some.

Don’t even think it, the voice of good Blue said.

Take it. It’s
your
money, said bad Blue.

It’s stealing.

I’ll send it back when I get there.

You know you won’t.

Think of all the years Hannah worked to earn that money.

She earned it for me.

She saved it for you to go to college.

I’ll go to college in California.

It’s wrong and you know it.

Shut up.

I tucked the jar under my arm and slipped out the door.

chapter 31