Sara Lost and Found (11 page)

“You stole rainmaker?”

I ignore Anna's question. Everyone is waiting at the car. I dump our bags in the backseat.

“Well, girls, are you ready?” Mrs. MacMillan sounds chipper, but she has dark circles under her eyes.

“They're pretty tired,” she explains to Mrs. Craig. “Last night—” Her voice trails off. I glance at Anna, who looks sadder than ever. Her half-heart necklace hangs limply over her shirt. I reach up to touch mine. It's gone.

“My necklace!”

“Did you lose something?” Pablo looks at me. How dare he pretend not to know what's wrong! I turn away, not saying anything about Cowwy, Mama's letter, the photo, or the necklace. What does he want with a necklace, a letter, a photo, and a stuffed animal? He's just being mean.

“You lost your necklace?” Mrs. MacMillan looks alarmed. “Let's go search your room. Maybe it fell on the carpet.”

Soon everyone is up in the room on hands and knees, searching.

I crawl over to Pablo. “You are going to look pretty dumb in a girl's necklace,” I whisper. “And what do you want with a letter that's not even addressed to you?” There. Now he knows that I know. I could maybe get another necklace, but Mama's letter and picture?

To my surprise, he isn't giving me the “You caught me” look I'm expecting. Instead, he leans close and whispers, “When you cheat, or lie, or steal, everything you do reflects it, like a mirror.”

Now, what is that supposed to mean? I'm not looking into any mirror. “You should know,” I snap.

I crawl back over to Anna. We've lost Mama's letter, her photo, the necklace, and Cowwy. Maybe if I had given Pablo his stupid rainmaker back—

Anna lets out a sharp cry and holds up a broken strand of necklace chain. But we can't find the rest of the necklace anywhere. And now, ready or not, it's time to go.

“I'm so sorry, girls, but we really must get going,” Mrs. Craig says, gently gripping my shoulders and pointing me to the door.

I whip around. “We can't go! We can't just leave the necklace behind. Mama gave me that. It's all I have of her.”

“I just don't know where it could be, Sara,” Mrs. MacMillan says.

“I do!” I glare at Pablo, stomping past him toward the car.

“Such sad faces!” Dr. Dan bends down, twists his eyebrows, and puckers his mouth, trying, I think, to get us to laugh.

“Good-byes are never easy,” Mrs. Craig announces. I'm thinking that when you have to say them often enough, they seem to get a whole lot easier. She starts the engine. “We'd better get rolling! I have to be in court at ten thirty.”

I'm getting pretty good at figuring out who expects a hug, who just wants words, and who's waiting to shake our hands. No way is Pablo getting a hug. Not after what he did.

“See ya,” I say, when it comes his turn.

He walks over to Anna's side of the car.

“I have something for you,” he tells her. Anna's eyes brighten when she sees the rainmaker. “Now every time it rains, I'll know who to thank!” He ducks down and looks over at me.

He stole the rainmaker back?
The thief!

“And here's something for you, too, Sara.” I don't want to look, but then I get to wondering about the necklace, Cowwy, and Mama's letter, and her photo, and I think maybe he's going to give back what he stole. He doesn't. Instead, he hands me a box.

I look up at him, puzzled. “What's this?”

“Look in it,” he answers as we pull away.

I look in it, hoping to see everything I am sure he took. It's empty, except for a mirror and a dancer that twirls round and round, playing a tinny little song. As we drive off, I twist around and look back at the house. I bet Mrs. MacMillan doesn't even know she adopted a robber.

“Oh no! My jacket! I forgot my jacket! We have to go back.” I look at Mrs. Craig, hoping she'll turn the car around.

“There's no time, Sara. We can get you another one.”

I collapse against the seat and close my eyes. How could so much of me get left behind? First Mama, then Daddy, then Mama's letter and her photo, then Cowwy, then my half-heart necklace, and now my jacket.

All of them—gone.

“I know that tune!” Mrs. Craig says, and she starts singing, “Raindrops keep falling on my head. . . .”

I close the box, and it stops playing. She doesn't stop singing, though. It's like someone wound her up.

I DON'T KNOW WHO'S HAPPIER,
the Silvermans seeing us or us seeing them, but the smiles and hugs are big and real. For a while I can forget all the things that got left behind.

“I don't want to go and spoil everyone's good time,” Mrs. Craig announces, “but it's important you both understand that this move is only—”

“Temporary!” I shout. Maybe I should get a T-shirt with the word stamped in huge letters across it.

Mrs. Craig cups her hand under my chin and tilts my head up. “I have some news,” she says. “Let's sit under the tree and talk a few minutes.”

Mrs. Craig, taking time to sit and talk? Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

A silent signal seems to pass between Mrs. Craig and the Silvermans. One minute they're standing there, the next they're grabbing our things and heading for the house.

As we watch the Silvermans shuffle across the yard, Anna clutches my hand. When they are out of sight, Mrs. Craig lets out a long sigh. That right there says it all. The news is bad.

“It's about your father,” she says, and my stomach knots up. “He's free now, but the judge has put a restraining order on him.”

“A restraining order? What do you mean, a restraining order?” I demand. Anna tightens her grip.

“He is not to see you girls until he gets some help for his drinking problem, his temper, and a few other things he has to deal with. The judge will review his case after he completes rehabilitation and parenting classes. But I have to be honest with both of you. Based on his record, it's not looking good. I'm so sorry,” she adds, sounding like she means it.

I can hear Anna sniffing, but I don't look at her. She lets go of my hand and starts pounding Abby against the grass. Mrs. Craig catches her arms and gently but firmly pulls Anna into a hug. Anna starts squirming, but Mrs. Craig doesn't let go. She just keeps rocking and talking, rocking and talking, soothing the hurt.

I can't look. Sometimes bad news has a way of wrapping around me so tight, I can hardly breathe. I feel something crawling on my leg and look down. A caterpillar is inching up my shin toward my knee. I watch it through a blur, knowing that someday soon it will change into a butterfly. Things can change for the better. That's what the caterpillar is trying to tell me. Things can change for the better. The question is, Can Daddy? The judge is saying no. But maybe the judge is wrong. Maybe Daddy can be like the caterpillar and change.

When Anna has no more fight left in her, Mrs. Craig tells us more. “What this means is that the judge will now consider allowing a family to adopt you. That way, you won't have to keep moving from one family to another.” She's looking at me like she's waiting for an answer. I just sit, watching the caterpillar crawl from my knee to the hand that's resting on my leg.

“I know not being with your dad is hard to imagine right now, but doesn't a permanent home with permanent parents sound like something you've always wanted?”

It's a hard question to answer. Saying yes feels like we're turning our backs on Mama and Daddy, but saying no would mean we like jumping from house to house. So again, I don't say anything. That way no one can get hurt.

I let the caterpillar crawl onto the grass, and then I gather up Abby's arms and legs, like I always do, and pop them back into place. I hand my sister her doll.

Mrs. Craig grunts as she pushes herself up from the grass and nods to Ben and Rachel, who cross the yard toward us. “I'll call in a couple of days to see how you're doing,” she says.

I don't even have to look up to know she's checking the time. I watch her drive away, feeling empty inside.

“HOW ABOUT A WALK TO
clear our heads?” Ben suggests. He has his walking shoes on. Anna and I nod. Rachel says she needs to rest, so it's just me, Anna, and Ben.

The fresh air feels good. I breathe in deep and let the air blow my thoughts around. At one point, it feels like someone's watching us, but when I turn around and look down the street, I don't see anyone or anything strange. A truck and some cars are parked by the side of the road, but nothing looks out of place. Some people are walking their dogs.

My thoughts drift to Mrs. Craig's news. I don't want to go to another house. I want to stay here, with the Silvermans. It's no secret that they can't keep us. Why do they have to be so old?

I keep thinking about being adopted. Becoming a part of a family with a mom and dad who are always there. Can something like that really happen to me and Anna?

I sigh. Maybe we should just run away again. But where would we go? If only we knew where Mama was. Would she even want us?

I have this awful feeling that I'll find her and do something wrong, and she'll look at me like she isn't even surprised. “You're just like your daddy,” she'd probably say, and leave again.

“Ruth told me what happened with your papa,” Ben says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “I know it is not something you wanted to hear.”

“Daddy will get better,” I assure him. “He'll get us back, you'll see.”

“It is not easy what your papa has to overcome, Sara. Drinking is not an easy thing to get over.”

“Daddy will choose us over drinking,” I answer, careful not to echo Ben and say the words “drinking” and “thing” like they end with a
k
.

“I know he wants to, but sometimes something gets hold of us that is not good for us. We convince ourselves we can handle it. But we can't. It's called an addiction. And your papa has this addiction.” He grows quiet.

“Sara,” Anna says softly.

I study my sister's face. Her chin is trembling. She has the same look as when we thought a burglar had broken into the house. But what can be scaring her? We're with Ben. We're safe.

Ben stops to rest at a bench and invites us to sit down, but Anna won't sit.

“She hears something,” I explain.

Ben looks at her thoughtfully. “I hear something too, Anna. Birds. The wind. A siren—hear it? An ice cream truck.”

I grin. For an old man with a hearing aid, Ben sure is hearing a lot.

“Are you making that up?” I look closely at his face for a sign that he's teasing.

“Maybe I am, but you hear them too, don't you?”

I nod. The siren is getting closer.
Wait! Is someone calling my name?

Ben jumps up from the park bench and stands straighter and stiffer than I've ever seen him stand. The expression on his face is grim and set. Something is wrong.

“Sara! Over here!” a voice yells.

I turn and see him. At first I think it's a man who looks like Daddy who just happens to be driving a pickup like his. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me again. But then, when he says my name again, I start to run toward him. “Daddy!”

I never see the car coming from the other direction.

“No!” Anna's scream pierces the air like an animal in pain. I stop, as if someone jerked a collar around my neck and pulled back. The car swerves and misses me.

The next thing I know, Ben is pulling me off the street to the side of the road. Cars are screeching to a stop.

“Find me, Anna. Sara. You're Olsons. Never forget that. You're Olsons!” His words disappear with his truck around a corner.

The police siren grows closer. Through the blur, I see the officer stop and run over to us.

“He never even stopped to make sure they were okay,” Ben shouts.

I get up, but the policeman makes me rest on the curb until he's sure we're both okay. Anna sits beside me, rubbing her elbow, staring blankly in the direction Daddy had driven. She fell running after me.