True Colors (19 page)

Maybe it was because I was tired of keeping it a secret, or maybe it was because spying on the Wright brothers had brought us closer, or maybe it was because I wanted Nadine to be the kind of friend that I
could
unburden myself to, but whatever the reason, I told her the truth about looking for my real mama, and about finding out the quilt was the one that I’d been wrapped in, and about Esther and Peddler Jenny, everything, except for the part about her parents getting a divorce.

Nadine listened all the way through without interrupting once.

“So this quilt’s a clue,” Nadine said. “We can use it to find out who your real mama was.”

She’d said
we
. It’s amazing how that little word made me feel so much better. I wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

Nadine frowned and held the quilt close to her face, squinting.

“What are these letters for?” she said.

“What letters?” I asked.

“Here,” Nadine said, “in the corner.”

I snatched the quilt out of her hands and held it up to the window so I could see better.

In the corner, three letters stitched in white thread, so tiny it was almost as if whoever had sewn them there hadn’t wanted anyone to find them:
MRS
.

chapter 25

“Mrs. who?” Nadine asked, but I didn’t know.

All this time, ten years, those letters had been in the corner of the quilt, like a secret.

I wasn’t too happy that it was Nadine instead of me who’d found those letters. I’d overlooked a big clue. Didn’t make me much of an investigative reporter, did it?

I’d let myself get sidetracked, searching for those missing animals instead of for my mama. Well, that was all going to change, but good.

Why hadn’t my mama put her last name on the quilt, too? Had she been in such a hurry that she’d only had time to sew
Mrs
.? Right now, it didn’t seem like much of a clue, but it did mean that whoever had left me was married.

Peddler Jenny had been married. But I didn’t know her last name, and I was beginning to realize how hard it is to
track down someone if you don’t know their last name, but at least I had Nadine helping me out now.

If I hadn’t known about Mr. and Mrs. Tilton getting a divorce, the evening would have been perfect. Nadine and I built a bonfire on the shore, and we roasted hot dogs on sticks, and then marshmallows to make s’mores, and watched as a few shooting stars zipped across the sky. It was just like old times, and I hated going home, afraid to break the spell.

After chores the next morning, I met up with Nadine, and we rode Dolly into town to talk to Mr. Gilpin. Nadine wasn’t her usual talkative self, but I chalked it up to all the excitement of yesterday.

“After we ask Mr. Gilpin about you writing the column for me,” I said to her over my shoulder, “maybe we could look through old copies of the paper for more information.”

Nadine didn’t answer right off, and when she did, it was with a question.

“If you do find out who your mama is, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Go meet her, I guess,” I said. “I want to know why she left me in Hannah’s kettle.”

Nadine frowned.

“But you aren’t thinking of leaving Hannah, are you?” she said. “That just wouldn’t be right.”

I should have known all that good feeling between us
last night couldn’t last. Who was she, with her perfect family, to be telling me what was right or not?

“You see, I was thinking more about your mama last night, after you left,” Nadine went on. “I’m not sure you should be looking for her.”

What?

“It would be wrong to leave Hannah,” Nadine said. “Besides, your mama hasn’t come back for you, has she?”

Her words stung me. I thought friends were supposed to support you no matter what. I wished I hadn’t told Nadine after all.

“Don’t you think that if she was coming back, she would have done it by now?” Nadine said.

That took my breath away. I managed to nod.

“Good,” Nadine said. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now, let’s go talk to Mr. Gilpin about the column.”

The rest of the ride into town, Nadine prattled on about the queen’s coronation, but I didn’t even listen. I kept thinking about what she’d said. Was she right? Was it wrong of me to be looking for my mama?

“How’s Hannah doing?” Mr. Gilpin asked, first thing.

“She’s sure not taking it easy,” I answered. “She was up at four o’clock baking, and I—” I was going to tell him about all the extra deliveries I had to do, but Nadine interrupted.

“Blue has something she wants to ask you,” she said.

I thought that was rude of her to interrupt, but I reminded myself that she
was
helping me out with my column.

“If it’s all right with you, Nadine said she’d write my columns for me,” I said. “Just till Hannah’s better.”

Mr. Gilpin looked at Nadine and then at me.

“Can she write?” he asked me, but Nadine jumped in.

“I write for the school newspaper back home,” she said. “Actually, Mr. Gilpin, I’m a much better writer than Blue is.”

I glowered at her, but she didn’t look my way.

“Well,” said Mr. Gilpin. “I don’t know about that, but Blue does have a lot on her plate right now. If it’s all right with her, I guess it’s all right with me. We’ll see how you do.”

Nadine pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket.

“Actually, I’ve already got it done,” Nadine said. “And I’m partly done with next week’s column as well.”

Yesterday, having Nadine write my column had seemed like a weight off my shoulders. So why did it feel like a stab in the back today?

When the paper came out on Thursday, people started talking about Nadine’s column. Even Mr. Gilpin and Mr. Allard.

I walked into the
Monitor
office just as Mr. Gilpin and Mr. Allard were leaving. They both nodded at me but kept on talking.

“I can’t believe she actually used the word
catanadromous
,” Mr. Allard said. “I consider myself an educated man, but even I had to look that one up.”

“Nothing wrong with educating the public by developing their vocabulary,” Mr. Gilpin said.

I went straight to Mr. Gilpin’s dictionary, which was already open to the right page. I wondered if Mr. Gilpin had had to look it up, too.

“Cat-a-nad-ro-mous,
adj
. referring to fish that go from salt water to freshwater every year to lay their eggs.”

Hmph, I thought. Anybody can look up words in a dictionary. Doesn’t make them writers.

Nadine was too busy finishing up next week’s column in the evenings to go swimming, or make s’mores, or watch fireflies.

“Well, I’d
like
to, Blue, really I would,” she said, “but I’ve just got too much to do to make this column something people will want to
read
.” Which was an insult no matter how you looked at it.

The second week, Nadine used the words
glossophagine
(“taking food with the tongue, like a frog or an anteater”),
atrabilarious
(“feeling melancholy”),
testudineous
(“slow-moving like a turtle”),
susurrus
(“a whispering sound”), and
ranine
(“pertaining to frogs”) all in the same paragraph!

“Nadine’s supposed to be writing about people,” I told Cat. “Not fish, turtles, and frogs. She’s not writing a nature book, for Pete’s sake.” But I knew if I said anything to Nadine, she’d just get mad.

On my deliveries, I heard other people talking about Nadine’s columns, too.

“It’s been years since I’d used my dictionary for anything other than a doorstop,” Mr. Moulton said.

Riding past the river one day, I saw Mr. Hazelton standing knee-deep in the water, fly-fishing. He grinned and waved.

“Trying to catch me one of those catanadromous fish,” he said.

Nobody had talked about
my
columns that way. It looked like Nadine
was
doing a better job than I had.

I could tell Mr. Gilpin was glad to have her there, too, because he told me, “Don’t worry about the column. You’ve got enough to handle right now.”

He might as well have said, Don’t bother coming back to work.

It had taken about two minutes for Nadine to step in and replace me. Even with knowing her folks were getting a divorce, I was finding it hard to feel sorry for Nadine.

I fussed about it with Cat.

“Who does she think she is?” I asked her.

Cat twitched her tail.

“Maybe she
is
a good writer,” I said. “But she didn’t have to steal my column.”

I made up my mind right then and there that I
was
going to keep looking for my mama, but I wasn’t going to talk anymore with Nadine about it. I’d let her think I’d given up on the idea. I was determined to get to Barre, too, one way or the other.

chapter 26

Saturday morning, the sun broke through the clouds just in time for the Old Home Day parade.

All week long, I’d been trying to figure out how to get to Barre. I even considered hitchhiking and jumping on a train like a hobo, but it was Hannah who gave me the answer.

Nadine and I were going to ride in the parade together. She’d decorated her bike with crepe paper streamers. I’d taken strips of red wool, the kind that Hannah used to make rugs, and braided them into Dolly’s mane. I’d decided not to say anything to Nadine about her stealing my column, or about solving the missing animals case. I just wanted us to have fun today. I was especially looking forward to the taffy pull and the three-legged race.

Hannah didn’t feel up to going to the parade, but she was sending bread and cookies for the bake sale. She handed me a jar of chicken soup.

“And I need you to deliver this to Mrs. Gray. Her mother’s very sick, and I thought this soup might taste good to her.”

I groaned.

“Mrs. Gray?” I said. “But that’s in the other direction.”

“Well, it won’t take that long,” Hannah said.

“But I’ll be late for the parade,” I said.

“Not if you hurry and stop arguing with me,” Hannah said.

I wasn’t done arguing by a long shot, but then it hit me. This was the perfect opportunity to ask Mrs. Gray for a ride to Montpelier! From there, I’d find a way to Barre, where I could start looking for Peddler Jenny.