Found Things (13 page)

Chapter 22

I rode down the old
path in back of the baseball field, until it got so overgrown with weeds that I had to get off my bike and walk it. I had never been this way to the river, and by the look of the path, neither had many other people for a long time.

It had started raining hard, and the river looked like a stream of boiling milk, all stirred up with the spray of raindrops. Ahead of me loomed the covered bridge, dark and grim. Just looking at it turned my feet into blocks of ice, and I thought of many reasons not to cross it.

All you have is a feather,
I thought.
You're not even sure where it come from. You don't even know that feather come off Mr. Tricks.
And the worst of them all:
That bird is probably already dead.

No.
I had to keep going. I had to look for Mr. Tricks on the other side of the river. If I didn't find him there, then I could stop looking.

I had reached the bridge. It looked like a dark mouth open wide to swallow me, and a sour smell of wet wood and moss and decaying fish surrounded it. My pulse thrummed in my ears as I set my bike down.

I stepped onto the abutment, my legs wobbling and my heart pounding, and looked down the cavernous length of the bridge. The water below me on both sides of the bank roared and churned, making me dizzy. Some of the planks in the bridge's floor were missing, and below them the river roiled and groaned.

Staring into the bridge, I felt that cold water swirling around me, creeping up my legs, and tossing and tumbling me until I didn't know which way was up. I felt so cold—and could not catch a breath.

River, honey,
say a voice in my head.
Stay right there.

I gasped and the sensation faded. I had felt that water closing in around me and heard a voice—a woman's voice—tell me to stay put. Whatever had just happened, maybe it explained why I couldn't go any deeper into the river than my toes.

Shivering with fear, I ran off the bridge to my bike. The wind twisted around me, blowing my hair in every direction, and then a blink of lightning and then another startled the clouds. A fist of thunder cracked the sky and rumbled away, blending with the river's roar and the pounding of my heart.

I would have to let Mr. Tricks go. It made me sad, but I couldn't cross that bridge. I might never cross that bridge.

I grabbed my bike and looked at the path to the baseball field. It had become a lake.

Chapter 23

Dusk was happening somewhere above
those thick clouds. There, the sun set under the horizon, the moon rose, and the grit of stars rubbed through the sky until it sparkled. But below those clouds was just a lot of rain.

When I come home from the bridge, instead of going inside, I went straight to the deck and sat and watched raindrops shimmy across the hem of the awning and fall in big, sloppy drops. They crackled the trees and pattered in the grass, and drew the rich earth smells from the ground.

Daddy had come back from Baltimore. As I sat on the deck, I heard the kitchen door open and then his footsteps beside me.

“What are you doing out here, honey?” he asked, dragging a chair next to mine. “You missed supper, and Mama was worried.”

“I'm just listening . . . and thinking.”

“She also wanted to bake with you.”

“Why didn't she ask Meadow Lark?”

“Because she wanted you.”

“Daddy, I miss you when you go away. I miss everyone when they go away. Every single person.”

Daddy looked out into the rain for a long time, and then he say, “So do I, River.”

“Even Theron?”

He nodded just the slightest. “Theron especially right now.”

“But you were mad at him.”

“I was. Nothing says I can't be mad at him and miss him at the same time.”

“But you made him go away.”

Daddy was silent for a while and then he say, “He's lucky no one pressed charges against him. That's one thing he's got on his side. So wherever he is, he's not running from the law.”

“Do you love Theron?”

Daddy shifted in his chair. The smell of supper come off him, and he say, “I love your brother with everything in me.”

Just like Mama. They both loved Theron, and they both missed him.

“Then why didn't you go after him? Why didn't you look for him? How can he know you love him if you don't try to find him?”

Daddy shifted in his chair and say, “Your brother has to make his own choices.”

“Well, what would you do if he come back? Would you send him away again?”

When Daddy spoke next, his voice come out a thin ribbon. “If your brother ever chose to come back home, I would run out the front door and meet him in the street. And then I would make him supper and serve it to him on your mother's best china.”

“The gold-rim ones?”

He laughed softly. “Yes.”

“But what about the crash and the police and . . . Daniel?”

When Daddy talked next, his voice wobbled like that time we skidded across the highway in the rain. “It doesn't matter anymore what kind of trouble your brother got himself into. I'd do anything for him, no matter what.”

Theron can come home now,
I thought, and smiled.
I just have to find him.

We sat quietly like that for a minute or so, and then he asked, “Is there something else on your mind?”

I nodded. “I want . . . I need to know where I come from. You and Mama always shushed me when I was little, but I really want to know about my mama.”

Daddy leaned forward on his elbows. “Honey, why do you want to know that?”

“Why did my birth mama let me go? Didn't she love me enough to keep me?”

This time he didn't wait to answer, and he say so softly. “She loved you so much, River. Who could
not
love you?”

“Then why did she let me go? How can you let go of someone you love?”

“She let you go because she loved you that much . . .”

Daddy's voice trailed off, and then he took a breath as if he was going to say something more, but instead he just gripped the arms of the chair. I knew that Daddy wasn't going to answer all my questions. Maybe it was too much for him all at once, so I changed the subject . . . for now.

I looked down at my hand and asked, “You know my little emerald ring?” He nodded. “I thought I found it in the river. But I didn't, did I? It was my baby ring.”

“Yes, that ring came with you.”

“Why didn't anyone ever tell me that?” Mama had so many secrets.

“Mama's always afraid of losing you,” he say. “She thought if you knew the ring was from your other life, you wouldn't be happy with us, and you'd want to go back.”

“Back to where I come from?”

“
Came
from, honey.”

“Came from . . . I'm trying to change it.”

Then I understood another thing about Mama. “If I ask Mama about where I come from, it make . . .
makes
her sad because she thinks I don't want to be her daughter.”

“Something like that,” Daddy say.

I saw in my mind the log with all those wishes and the river flowing by it. All that water pouring past those wishes come from somewhere and went somewhere else. The river flows in only one direction, and you can't make it go the other way.

“Mama doesn't have to worry. I don't want to go back or be anyone else's daughter. I just want to find a part of me that's missing.”

I watched another raindrop slide across the awning and plop off, and waited for Daddy to say something to help me find that missing part. Instead he reached for my hand.

“I know a jewelry store in Boston where I can get you a nice chain for your ring,” he say. “Then you can wear it around your neck.”

I wished I had my ring. I wished I knew where it was.

I looked between the awning and the trees, up at the dark sky, and asked Daddy, “What do you wish for?”

“I had a wish, honey, and you came true.”

That made me smile. “But what's your wish right
now
?”

Daddy squeezed my hand. “You know, because it's the same as yours.”

Chapter 24

After Daddy and I went
inside, Mama gave me supper. She didn't ask me where I'd been and she didn't sniff, but she gave me a hug when I sat at the table. After supper, I told her I wanted to make a cake, but this one with Meadow Lark, and she smiled like she understood.

Meadow Lark measured and I stirred. She filled the pans and I put them in the oven. She took them out, and while we waited for them to cool, we made a plan. It was the kind of plan best friends make without having to say many words.

The next morning, Meadow Lark carried the cake straight to Mr. Sievers's room and put it on his desk. “This is from Ms. Zucchero,” she say.

According to her, Mr. Sievers's eyes grew wide when he saw that cake. “For me?” he asked. “Why, thank you.”

At the same time, I carried a vase of wildflowers straight to Ms. Zucchero's room and put them on her desk. “These are from Mr. Sievers,” I told her.

“For me?” she asked, drawing her nose to them. “They're lovely. Tell him thank you.”

The rest, we'd decided, was up to them.

I felt everyone looking at me in art later that day. Sonya started to say something to me, but I cut her off and turned to Kevin Kale. “Tell your daddy to make an appointment for Mr. Clapton. I have a feeling he'll be calling soon.”

That night, as I waited for Meadow Lark to fall asleep first, I lay listening to the rain. It had been raining off and on for so many days that I wondered if we'd all soon float away.

“That was fun today,” I say to Meadow Lark. “It felt good to make wishes come true.”

“I can't wait to see what happens,” she say, her voice soft. “River, I'm glad you're my friend. It's what I always wished for.”

That made me smile. “Me too.” Then I realized that if I was really Meadow Lark's friend, I should tell her the truth.

“Are you still awake?” I asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmur.

“I have to tell you—I found a white feather at the river the other day. It floated across to me from the other side.”

“Mr. Tricks's feather, right?” she asked.

“That's what I thought, so I tried to go across the bridge to look for him . . . but I couldn't. I just couldn't go over that bridge. I wanted to find him and bring him home to you, but I'm sorry I couldn't do it.”

“I can . . . go there and . . . look for him. . . .” Her voice faded, and then I heard her even breathing, which told me she was asleep.

I must have fallen asleep for a bit, because the next thing I knew, I heard the swishes and snaps of Meadow Lark getting dressed. When I opened my eyes, she was standing in front of my bureau.

I whispered, “Meadow—” but stopped, because in the dimness I saw her open up my ballerina box and heard her rummage through it. Maybe she thought the feather was in there. Then she opened the door, paused, and stepped into the hall.

I waited for her to go downstairs before I slipped on my sneakers, and then I went outside, following her. The raindrops bounced on the street like pearls, and fog swirled through them. Meadow Lark was way ahead of me by then, even with her slow leg. When she got to the baseball field and turned down the old path, I knew she was going to the covered bridge.

“Meadow Lark!” I called, but she was too far ahead and the rain poured down too loud for her to hear me.

I soon lost sight of her in the darkness and the fog, and the rain roared like a multitude of wings. “Meadow Lark,” I called again.

Finally I reached the end of the path, where it began to join the bridge. There was so much water everywhere—under my feet, falling from the sky, and rushing down the river. I'd never seen so much water in all my life, and my heart pounded out of my chest with fear for what could happen.

I squinted to try to see Meadow Lark through the darkness and fog and rain. Her black silhouette appeared at the mouth of the bridge. I could tell by the sound of the river that the water was almost touching it. Then I remembered what the men say that Sunday after church, and about Daddy trying to save June. I couldn't let that happen to my friend.

“Meadow Lark!” I called again, not caring if I woke her up.

Then she stepped onto the bridge, into the place where the riverbank ended and the bridge began, where there was a floor but no walls and nothing to hold on to. At the same time I heard a crash against the side of the bridge, as if something mighty had hit the side.

Meadow Lark stopped. “Come back,” I called to her, but she was staring at something in the bridge. I looked and saw a dark form standing against the side about halfway in. By the shape, I recognized it as the same person I'd seen that night on the beach.

“Hello?” I called.

For a moment Meadow Lark turned around to look at me, and then she ran into the bridge.

I followed her, running as quick as spit and yelling, “Don't! Come back!” but it was too late. Just then the river surged and washed across the floor, thrusting a log across the gap in front of me. Little bits of paper clung to its bark, holding fast against the current. That was our log!

Then another surge pounded the bridge. Meadow Lark screamed and slid across the floor to the downstream side. “Meadow Lark!” I yelled, and ran down the bridge to her, more afraid now of losing her to the river than of the river itself.

Just then the rain and fog lifted for a moment, and I could see that other person edging his way from beam to beam toward us. And as he got closer, I recognized him.

“Theron!” I cried as we reached Meadow Lark at the same time. Another surge washed across the bridge, and I braced myself against a beam.

“Grab on to her arms,” Theron yelled over the roar of the water. Then he reached me and pulled me inside the bridge, protecting us from the worst of the flooding.

We clutched her and waited for the water to clear the bridge floor. Then he yelled, “Run!” and we skimmed across the few yards of exposed floor. He lifted Meadow Lark over the log while I stepped over it, and then we scampered to the soggy path—and fell, still holding on to each other, and lay gasping for breath.

“Theron,” I say when I could speak again. I could hardly believe who I was seeing. I touched his face and jaw, and let my fingers sink into the dimples under his cheekbones. The rain mixed with tears on my cheeks.

“Theron,” I say, the way you say a wish, a prayer.

He stared at me, my brother—not a ghost and not my imagination, but my brother—all height and muscle and flesh of him. I'd been hoping for a miracle all this time, and then it come, and he was right in front of me.

After a few minutes he stood up, then wiped his face with his hand and brushed off his jeans. “You need to take her home and get her warm,” he say.

“But . . . what about you?” I asked.

“I can't go home. You know that.”

Meadow Lark huddled against me, shivering so hard I could hear her teeth chatter.

“But—I just found you.”

“River, go,” he say.

I knew I had to get her home, but I didn't want to leave without my brother. “But, Theron, you can come home now,” I say.

“No,” he say. “But I'll watch until you're safe on the path.”

I understood something then, so crystal clear that it almost blinded me, about why people hoped. I knew why Mama hoped to see angels. I knew why Meadow Lark kept hoping for Mr. Tricks, why Daniel hoped for a tutor and our teachers for love, and why Mr. Clapton hoped for straight teeth. Just as I knew why all that time, since the day Theron left us, I hoped for him to come back. Because when you find what you're hoping for, you can call it a miracle.

I started back up the path with Meadow Lark, shivering all the way. Every few steps I took, I turned around, hoping to see Theron following us. For a long time he stayed on the path where I left him, but then come the time I turned around and he was gone.