And Then I Found You (23 page)

Now she wouldn’t be able to show her face at school, and she’d never be invited anywhere
for the rest of her life. And all of that had seemed the worst of all possible worlds
until about eight hours into the bus trip when she was tired, hungry, and shaking.

It had been easy enough planning the trip; she’d done it in her head a hundred times
since meeting Mr. Jack in Birmingham.

At Sailor’s house, she’d gone on the Internet and found the Greyhound schedule from
New York to Birmingham. She took the MasterCard from her Mom’s wallet and instantly
she had a ticket. Done. That easy.

She wrote a note and left it on top of her pillow. She’d signed it in capital letters:
LUNA and then drawn a tiny crescent moon under the name.

The thought of her mom reading the note made Emily’s hot tears start again; her eyes
ached. The note would hurt her mom’s feelings, but Emily had been so mad, and signing
“Luna” had seemed smart and funny. Changing her name was something she and Chaz had
talked about doing for weeks. They’d even practiced with him calling her Luna to see
if she liked it, and she did.

It was all a brilliant plan until she tried to sleep and the creepy man, who smelled
like the bottom of the trashcan behind her garage, sat next to her and showed her
his snake tattoo. Until she needed food and even the ten dollars she took from her
Mom’s purse wasn’t enough. Until she called Mr. Jack’s cell phone ten times and he
didn’t answer. All she’d imagined as wonderful turned into awful.

It had been such a great image: walking off the bus in Birmingham and having Mr. Jack
standing there, taking her home. And then Miss Katie would come visit and tell stories
about working in the desert. Then Mom and Dad would be sorry and let her do whatever
she wanted whenever she wanted and not ruin her life.

Emily leaned against the oily window where someone else had left a smear of something
white, sniffling into the pillow she’d been smart enough to bring. She curled her
legs up underneath her bottom and wished, in the most desperate way she knew how,
that the tattooed man sitting next to her would go away. She imagined the snake coming
alive, writhing its way into her seat. Then she heard her name and she turned her
face only slightly.

“Are you Emily?”

She nodded into her pillow, wiping at her eyes. The bus driver’s eyes were blue and
crinkled around the edges like a shirt before it was ironed. “Your mom and dad are
pretty worried about you. I want you to come up to the front seat and sit behind me
until we get to Atlanta.”

Emily nodded again, her voice hiding somewhere behind her tears. She grabbed her pillow
and Hello Kitty duffel bag and followed the driver to the front seat. He placed a
reserved sign in the seat next to her and smiled down. “I’ll watch out for you until
we get to Atlanta. Your family will meet you there.”

The bus driver’s name was Eric, and he smelled like cologne and cigarettes all mixed
up.

Atlanta. Her parents would meet her in Atlanta. She found her voice. “How much longer?”

“Five hours, darling.”

“Okay,” Emily said and closed her eyes, curling into the double seats, and under the
eyes of a kind bus driver, she finally fell asleep.

*   *   *

Kate waited in front of a coffee shop in downtown Atlanta, a block from the Greyhound
station. Cold seeped through her jacket. She grabbed mittens from her purse and pulled
them on. A work crew was outside hanging Christmas lights and ten-foot wreaths on
the streetlamps. Kate had never understood people who said, “Oh, this is my favorite
time of the year.” For her, the holidays only brought expectations, sleeplessness,
and money spent that she didn’t have.

Christmas seemed to her a frenetic and twinkly-light-filled attempt to ignore the
fact that it was winter and cold and bleak. The holidays were a desperate grasp at
something beautiful. And if she’d ever felt desperate, it was right at that moment
as she stared toward the street waiting for Jack to appear.

She held a cup of coffee, the warmth sending smoke up to her face. She took a long
sip, and shuddered against the searing heat. “Damn,” she said out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Jack’s voice asked.

Kate turned to face him and involuntarily, a muscle memory in response to his voice,
she smiled. “So much is wrong.”

“Like?” He smiled in return, an answer to her own.

“The coffee burned and I have a horrid hangover.” She took a deep breath and then
exhaled. “Our daughter ran off on a Greyhound bus and it’s freezing cold and I hate
how holidays make me feel so behind on everything.”

“Anything else?” He laughed into the words.

“I think that about covers it. Okay, what time does the bus get in?”

“Thirty minutes.” He pulled her coat closer around her. “You’re shivering.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous cold out here and my South Carolina wardrobe isn’t exactly
Patagonia worthy.”

“I love the way you say things,” he said and shook his head. “Even in the middle of
a crisis, you have something cute to say.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Let’s walk to the station,” he said. “The parking lot is full because of the holiday.”

She nodded. “It’s only a block; I can handle it.”

They walked together, huddled against the cold as they passed a Baptist church, a
stone fortress, strong against the wind. “This,” Kate pointed to the church, “reminds
me of a church in Charleston.” She stopped, staring at the front doors, remembering
a plea she’d once made to a painting of the perfect mother, Mary. “Emily must be so
scared. She’s only thirteen. What was she thinking?”

“Guess she’s got your spunk. I remember a thirteen-year-old girl who stood up to Principal
Proctor and didn’t care.”

“Oh, I cared. I was a good faker. But this? Running off on a bus? I’d never have been
that brave.”

“I also remember a girl who ran off into the wilderness and wasn’t scared one little
bit. Spunk. Yep. She got that from you.”

“Stupidity might be a better word.” They stopped at the entrance to the bus station,
huddled together at the sidewalk’s edge.

“What did she get from me?” he asked. He spoke beneath his scarf and Kate pulled down
on the wool to see his lips form into a smile.

“Hmmm…” Kate looked off to the sky where clouds floated like parodies, seemingly false
imitations of what fluffy clouds
should
look like. “She got your kind eyes and sweet smile. She got your stubbornness.”

“I’m not stubborn,” he said and touched Kate’s nose. “At all.”

“Really?”

“No, but it seemed like something I should defend.”

“Being stubborn can be really good.”

“Like when?”

“When it’s time to do the right thing.”

He smiled and pulled his scarf up again as if he needed to hide his mouth. Kate shivered
and glanced up the street. “Hurry, bus, hurry.”

Jack pulled her close and she buried her face into his parka, finding warmth. After
a minute, diesel miasma filled the air and Kate peaked out to see the bus pull up.
She let go of Jack and stepped closer to the edge of the curb not wanting Emily to
wonder if she was alone. There was, Kate knew, a terrible twisting moment when you
hoped for something and realized that the something wasn’t going to happen, and she
didn’t want this for Emily.

The bus doors opened with the swoosh of warm, stale air falling down the bus stairs
and into Kate’s breath. The driver, dressed in a blue suit and hat, stood in the opening,
blocking the view inside. He stepped down and then turned to hold out his hand to
a girl who jumped from the top step to the curb in one leap, landing in Kate’s open
arms. Sobs shook Emily’s tiny body and Kate wrapped not only her arms, but also her
scarf and coat around her daughter. Then Jack’s warmth was around both of them, and
they stood on the curb of the Greyhound station as one tight, round bun of comfort.

“I’m sorry.” Emily’s words were stuttered and damp. She looked up. Her face was pale
and blotched with red circles; her copper curls scrunched behind her head and flattened
against her left cheek. Her green eyes were circled with red, her eyelashes mashed
into moist clumps.

“Shhh…” Kate said. “Let’s get somewhere warm.”

“Where’s your bag, honey?” Jack asked.

Emily pointed to the strap of her backpack. “This is it.”

Jack took each hand—Kate’s and Emily’s—and led them away from the bus stop. He then
squatted down and looked directly into Emily’s greenest eyes. “You scared us so badly.
Are you okay?”

“I am now. Yes, now I am. I’m sorry I scared you. My parents must be so mad. I didn’t
know it would feel so bad. I didn’t know it would be so scary. I just didn’t know.”
Emily dropped her head onto Jack’s shoulder, into the same soft spot where Kate had
just rested.

“How could you know?” Jack asked.

“How about hot chocolate while we wait for your parents?” Kate asked, pointing toward
the coffee shop a block away.

Emily nodded. “Are they going to kill me?”

“Unless kissing your whole face will kill you, I doubt it,” Jack said.

Wound tight together and bent low as one tree with many branches against the icy wind,
they were passing the Baptist church when Emily stopped.

A crew of four men emerged from the church, lugging various figures that would add
up to a nativity scene. They carried scraggly animals and then the half-limp hay.
Mary and Joseph were carved of wood and weathered to a fine sheen. The manger and
baby Jesus lay in the grass facedown with Jesus’ carved bottom faced toward the sky.

Emily stepped onto the grass and walked toward the crew until she stood in front of
the wooden baby. The four men stopped, frozen as if they were carved wooden statues
themselves. Emily bent down to pick up Jesus, her hands as gentle as if the baby were
real. Then she turned the manger right side up and placed the figure inside.

Jack and Kate watched without saying a word, as if they were in church and their daughter
had walked up to the altar for communion. Emily turned around and walked back. “Sorry,”
she said, “I have a thing about manger scenes. I just can’t help it.”

“That was sweet,” Jack said.

A breath of ice blew across the yard. From the corner of her eye, Kate saw it—a feather
winding across the nativity scene to land at their feet. It was large, red and brown,
torn at one edge. Kate bent over, but when her fingers went to grab it, Emily’s hand
covered the feather. Together, mother and daughter stood and laughed at their coordinated
motions to fetch nature floating past.

“I kind of have a thing about feathers,” Emily said. “Nativity scenes and feathers.”

“Me too,” Kate said. “I collect them.”

“Weird. How do you collect nativity scenes?” Emily asked. “Where do you keep them?”

Kate laughed. “Feathers. I collect feathers.” She glanced at Emily. “That’s a red-tailed
hawk.”

Emily smiled. “That’s awesome that you know that.”

“Why do you love feathers so much?” Kate asked.

“Because of that one you gave me when I was born. The white one.”

“You have it?” Kate asked, her love lifting high, a wing.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just didn’t know if your mom gave it to you.”

Silence fell over them and in the warmth of mere words, no one noticed the cold. Then
together they ran into the coffee shop and occupied a back booth. Jack had grown a
beard, and Kate wanted to touch it, gather its warmth. He wound his gloved fingers
through hers as they sat together.

Emily sat across from them and held her mitten-covered hands over her face. “That
bus smelled really bad and now it’s on my favorite mittens.”

Kate smiled. “We can clean them.”

“I’ll never do anything like that again. Ever. I was mad and wasn’t thinking. I would
never leave my parents. This was stupid.” She yanked off her mittens and pulled her
hands through tangled hair.

“I have a present for you,” Jack said.

“Really?” Emily looked up and smiled.

“Yep, but nothing fancy.”

“I don’t care about fancy,” she said.

He reached into his coat pocket and yanked out a crumpled packet of Sour Patch Kids.
“Here.” He handed her a packet that looked as if it had been put through the washing
machine, wrinkled and faded.

Emily reached across the table and took the package from him. “Oh, thanks. These are
my favorite. How’d you know?”

Jack just smiled. “I just knew. And I’ve had those for a very long time.”

Emily looked down at the candy and laughed. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Kate squeezed Jack’s hand.

He nodded and his eyes filled, and then just as quickly he turned away from Kate,
looking at Emily. “We’re here for you, Emily. We are, but you can’t run away,” Jack
said.

“I know.” She cast her gaze downward, avoiding their eyes. “I know. When the bus driver
told me you’d be here, I was able to use my brain again. It’s just that I had this
made-up life with you. Sailor and I used to make up all kinds of stories about you
and I thought…”

“We all do stupid things when we’re mad,” Kate said, reaching across the table and
taking her hand. “We all do. But next time, just call.”

Emily looked first to Jack. “Why didn’t you answer me when I called all night?”

Jack pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the screen. “Em, I don’t have a single
call from you.”

She lifted her own phone, flicked it open to the front screen and held it up to Jack,
showing him the numerous calls.

He leaned forward and squinted. “That’s my work number. Oh, I am so sorry. I had no
idea … it was Thanksgiving. I wasn’t there.…”

“I’m so stupid.” Emily dropped the phone onto the table.

“No … I should have given you my cell number. I’m so sorry.” He reached across the
table for her hands, but she turned away.

Emily glanced between Jack and Kate and then the tears that had filled her eyes ran
down her face. “I’m going to ask you something terrible. I know it’s rude that I’m
asking, but…”