Sara Lost and Found (19 page)

“Well, then! We'd better get started. Is there something special you want to read? A favorite book? A song, perhaps?”

Mama's letter pokes against my side. Ben studies my face. “Ah. I think there is something, yes? But you are afraid to show it to me?”

I nod and look out the window. People might see. We might get caught. The letter might end up lost or read by someone else. Mama might get caught and sent to jail.

Thoughts leapfrog all over the place.

Ben follows my gaze and looks back at me. “I have an idea,” he whispers, pulling a book from the table. “Come over here by me and sit so that we are across from the window, looking out.”

I pull a chair up beside him and sit down.

“Now, this something that you want to read. Put it here between the pages. If anyone from outside looks in, they'll think we're busy reading my magic book.” He turns the cover toward me.

“The Magic Journey!”

Ben laughs. “You remember it?”

“How could I forget?” I unpin my pocket and carefully spread Mama's letter out on the table, then start to put it in Ben's book and stop.

“Your book is empty! What happened to the pictures? The stories?”

Ben smiles, closing the book around Mama's letter.

“You made up all these stories, didn't you, Ben? They were never in
The Magic Journey
.”

“They were right here”—he taps his head—“and now they are here.” He pats my head and opens the book to the page where I put the letter.

“Ah! This must be a letter from your mama, yes?”

I nod.

“And judging by all these wrinkles, you have had this letter a very long time?”

Again I nod.

Ben thinks for what feels like forever. Is he going to turn us in—me and Mama's letter? Finally, though, he puts his arm around my shoulder and clears his throat. “Okay. Let's start with the first line. Can you read any of the words?” He points a thick finger at the first word.

“ ‘My dear Sara and Anna, this is a—' ” I pause.

“Dif-fi-cult,” Ben says, sounding out the word.

“ ‘Difficult letter to write,' ” I say carefully, then stop, since those are as many words as I know.

“Very good!” Ben gives me a little squeeze. “See there? You can read a little. This is good. This is very good.”

“Can you read the rest of it to me?” I whisper.

Ben nods slowly. “I can, and I will. Then together we will read it, word by word, and you will know your mama's letter by heart. Along the way, we will learn things. Are you ready?”

My head nods yes, but my stomach knots up. It's not so sure.

Ben's deep voice pulls Mama's words from the page and plays them against the air like one of Daddy's sad songs. My heart beats fast, so fast I think it might break.

As he reads, I try to picture Mama writing the letter. Is she sitting by a window, watching us from somewhere close by? Is she far away and remembering us in her thoughts? I search my own memory and see her long fingers wrapped around a strand of hair, blue veins standing out against her pale skin.

A memory tears at me. I try to push it away, but it comes back. Mama's biting her lower lip and squeezing me and Anna so tightly against her that I feel like my shoulders might crack. Our heads are touching, and she's whispering something.

I close my eyes and try to hear Ben, but another sound is smashing against my thoughts.

Bam, bam, bam.

I wince and try to push it away again.

Splinters of wood jump through the door like claws. I watch the wood crack under the pressure of an ax.

“I know you're in there, Rosie. Don't hurt my girls.”

The voice is Daddy yelling at Mama, but he doesn't sound like himself. He's mad at her like he gets when he's been drinking.

Bam. Bam.

The sound is hollow through Mama's hand pressed against my ear.

“You are angels,” she chants. “Angels flying up to heaven. Look how beautiful you are, dressed in white.”

My face is pressed so tight against her chest that I can't breathe. The hard, cold toilet pushes against my back. We are squeezed between the toilet and the tub. The house offers no other hiding place.

“God sees you and is smiling,” Mama whispers. “He's smiling because my girls are coming to see Him.”

Crack.
The wood splinters.

My lungs burn from not being able to breathe.

Let me go, Mama. Let me go.

“See Him, Anna? Sara? God loves you.” She kisses the tops of our heads. I push hard, fighting for a breath, but I can't get away from her tight grip.

At the last crash of wood, a door to my memory opens, spilling out secrets like a flood of light from a refrigerator. Was Mama trying to hurt us? And Daddy, was he trying to save us? I take a sudden breath and jerk.

Ben is holding me. He's not reading Mama's letter anymore. He's hugging me. “Breathe, Sara. Breathe. It's all right. Cry. Let it all come out. You'll feel better.”

I look around. I'm not an angel. I'm at the library. I'm with Ben. I can breathe. I gasp for breath, coughing.

His deep voice helps me relax. When I'm calm, he smooths the paper out slowly, stroking it like he is stroking a cat. Then he picks it up in his big hands and quietly clears his throat. I sniff loudly, and he reminds me again to breathe in deep and to let the air out slowly. Then he starts the letter over again, and I hold on to Mama's every word:

My dear Sara and Anna,

This is a difficult letter to write. I am going to go away for a while. I know that running away isn't right, and I hope you will someday forgive me. I am leaving because everything I do is wrong, or so it feels like to me. I'm scared. Scared that I'm not a good mom. Scared that I can't protect you from all the things a parent is supposed to protect her children from. And so I run, hoping to give you a chance at a new and better life.

I sit here at my window, Sara, listening to a mockingbird sing one beautiful song after another, and for a moment, it's like having you here singing to me. I smile just thinking about you. Don't ever stop singing.

And Anna, I know you are hurting. I hope that someday you'll find the sweet person tucked away inside of you. You might think she's not there, but she is. One day you'll find her. I just know. Take care of one another.

I love you.

Mama

For a long time Ben and I don't say anything. Carefully, I fold up Mama's letter and put it back in my pocket. It turns out Rachel Silverman was right. It isn't my fault Mama left. She loves us. She thought she was somehow saving us. She was just scared and didn't know what to do.

“Sometimes,” Ben says, his voice husky as he gives me a bear hug, “when we have not learned how to take good care of ourselves, we can't take good care of our children. This is how it was with your mama and papa. They love you and Anna with all their hearts. Of this I am sure. But they do not know how to take care of themselves, and because of this they do not know how to take care of you. You still miss them, yes?”

I nod, biting my tongue to keep from crying. “I let them down,” I whisper.

Ben looks at me hard. “Let who down?”

“Mama. Daddy. I should never have gotten us caught. If I had found us a better hiding place, then Anna would be with me now, and Daddy could come home.”

Ben shakes his head. “Maybe he would come home for a short time, but what about the next time he makes a mistake? And the next? How long were you to go on hiding like this? No, Sara. This is not your doing. You are a good daughter and a good sister and a good friend.”

When he says “friend,” I think about Lexie and how hard it is to be a friend. “I don't know how to be a friend,” I whisper. “I've never had one or been one.”

Ben smiles. “Ah, but you do know. You have been my friend for a long time now, yes? And it is time for you to meet kids your own age to become friends with. You will make someone a very, very good friend. I just hope they will be as good a friend to you.”

I look at Ben, searching his face. “I did something else, too.”

“What is this new something that is tearing you up inside?”

I swallow hard and take a deep breath, hold it, then slowly let it out. “I wished Anna would go away, and then she did. Now I might never see her again.” I let the dreaded secret out.

Ben stares at his big fingers, then looks at me. “Breathe, Sara. I am going to tell you this, and you must believe me, yes?”

I nod.

“You could have said, ‘Anna go, Anna stay,' and it would not have made one little bit of difference. None at all. It is your parents and the court that decide these things. Your parents made a poor choice. The courts took over. As for Anna, she hurts so much that she wants to hurt others—”

He pauses and pulls me back onto his lap. His chin comes to my shoulder. “She was hard to take care of all the time, yes?”

I look away. How did he know?

“Do not use energy to punish yourself for a feeling anyone would have. Use it instead to explore and learn new things.”

“But what about Anna?”

A soft tap on the door announces that our time is up. Outside the window, a boy waits his turn to learn to read. Ben gives me a small squeeze, and I go across the room to open the door.

“Same place on Wednesday?” Ben says, mostly to Mrs. Chandler, but also to me to remind me that I will be seeing him again in a few days.

“That sounds wonderful,” she answers.

Ben bends down and whispers close to my ear. “Do you still have the penny?”

I nod, patting the pocket that holds Ben's penny, the white stone, and Mama's letter. He slips his big hand into a pocket and pulls out a small magnifying glass.

“Take this,” he says, pressing it into my hand. “And tonight, take out the penny and read what it says on it. We'll talk about it on Wednesday, yes?”

I nod, wrapping my fingers around Ben's new gift.

On the drive home, I tell Mrs. Chandler about the letter and everything about Mama I can remember. She doesn't stop me or jump in to add things. She just listens, nodding and looking thoughtful every few sentences.

“Sounds like you and Ben had a great visit,” she finally says when no more words will come out of me.

I nod and then stare through the magnifying glass at my hand.

“What do you see?” Mrs. Chandler asks right as we pull into our driveway.

“Lines. Lots of lines. Just like in a dream catcher,” I answer.

And she smiles.

That night, I sound out some of the words on the penny. “In . . . God . . . we . . . trust.”

In God we trust!

I did it. I read the words all by myself!

LIVING SO CLOSE TO LEXIE
is almost like having a sister. It also means that Sneaker lives close by, and I can see her every day.

Even though Lexie isn't my sister, she can talk about things in a way that Anna can't. In full sentences, even. Ben said that I'd make a great friend to someone, but sometimes being friends with Lexie feels like I'm being unfair to Anna. It doesn't seem fair that she can't be with us and have Lexie as her friend too.

She's not you, Anna. Nobody could ever be you.
It's something I say every time I head for Lexie's house. Somehow, just saying it makes me feel better.

“What will happen when all the kids find out I can't read?” I ask Lexie on the way to school.

“You can read, Sara, just not fast. That's why you're in that special reading class. There's nothing bad about being in there.”

“Easy for you to say. You can read.”

“I'll read with you every day after school, if you want,” Lexie says. “I'll help if you want me to.”

“
Kevin
can read better than I can. If I could read, I'd be able to write better too.”

Lexie stares at me and I have to look away. “I miss Anna.”

Lexie squeezes my shoulder. “Me too, and I don't even know her. If you learn to read and write, you can write Anna letters and tell her about all the stuff that we do. It will be like having her here, in a way.”

I shake my head. “Nothing will be like having her here except really having her here. Everything else is pretending, and I'm tired of pretending.”

Lexie nods and gives my shoulder another squeeze.

*  *  *

Friday, a week later, Lexie and I are walking home from school. We stuck together like glue all week.

As we near our homes, a car swerves and honks its horn at a stray racing across the road.

“There are too many homeless cats!” I say to Lexie. “Can't we do something?”