Willa by Heart (17 page)

EMILY:
Well, if you love me, help me. All I want is someone to love me.

GEORGE:
I will, Emily.

—
Our Town

JFK never came to Riley and Mum's wedding.

I checked with Rosie, and she said she handed him the note herself.

“He probably had a game today, Willa,” my mother said.

“That's right,” Sam said. “It must be getting near play-offs.”

Surely he'll come to Mum and Riley's surprise party at the inn. He promised he'd come when I told him about it. Everyone is here. So many people love Mum.

Mum laughs when she sees the bride and
groom figures on the top of her wedding cake. “Who's that skinny girl?” she says.

Lots of my friends from school are here. Alexa and Gus, Tina and Jessie, Ruby and Chris, Luke, Shefali, Trish, and Caroline.

Mum and Riley have a blast dancing with us. They could teach Miss Happyfeet some moves.

Tina keeps staring at me with a strange expression on her face. Through the toasts and testimonials and the “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” Aretha Franklin girls-only dance with Mum and Mom, Nana, Mrs. Bellimo, Mrs. Saperstone, Mrs. Sivler, Mrs. Belle—all the ladies of Bramble—I can tell Tina has something important to tell me. It's one of those things best friends know. We pick it up like radar.

“Tina, what's the matter?”

“Nothing,” she says.

I try again later. “I know you want to tell me something, Tina, come on …
what?”

“Nothing,” she says.

I know she's lying. Now she's got me worried.

Finally, when Mum and Riley say good-bye and the last guests are leaving, Tina grabs my arm and says, “Okay, I can tell you now. I didn't want to say anything before because I didn't want to spoil …”

When she says the word “spoil,” I know it's something about JFK. Something bad. “What, Tina? Just say it.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes. What?”

“Okay, well, Jessie and I were out on a date last night.”

Last night. Suzanna and Simon's wedding reception.

“We were walking on the beach, and I happened to look up at the ledge by Clover Lane, and I saw this couple … sitting together … real close.” Tina stares at me.

My stomach clenches.

“I'm pretty sure they were kissing,” Tina says. “And then just as we passed by, the boy's head turned and … I'm so sorry, honey….” Tina's face scrunches up, all sad. “But it was Joey … and the girl … the girl was Mariel Sanchez.”

“No,”
I say, slumping on to a chair. I feel dizzy, like I might faint. “It's all my fault, Tina. Joseph saw me slow-dancing with Jace Finch at the—”

“Your fault?”
Tina jumps to my defense. “No way is it your fault, Willa. You didn't do anything wrong.
She's
the one. Where does that little witch
live, anyway? I'll teach her to steal my best friend's boy….”

Tina means well, but she's just making things worse. As soon as she leaves, I run upstairs, lock my door, and sob into my pillow so Mom and Sam won't hear.

I've lost him, I've lost him, I've lost him.

The morning star always gets wonderful bright the minute before it has to go,—doesn't it?

—
Our Town

When I wake up the next morning, my eyes are red and swollen. I have no appetite for breakfast. “Are you ready to go?” Sam asks in a gentle voice. He doesn't press me for details.

We stop at Delilah's Florist to pick up my special order.

“Good thing your dad's here to help carry these,” Delilah says. “Six dozen, you said, Willa, right?”

“Mum will love these,” Sam says.

We meet Riley and the rental truck at the school
gym. I oversee the loading of the books. The boxes and boxes of Bramble books. There is a reporter and a photographer from the
Cape Cod Times
to cover the story. The books fill the entire truck.

“Good thing my new bride travels light,” Riley says, laughing.

Sam and I follow Riley to Mum's place. Soon a new minister will be moving in.

I remember Mum's face lighting up when she talked about finally having a house of her own. “The church administration provides housing, but housing's not the same as a house,” she said.

I have a fleeting thought about Come Home Cape Cod again. Rosie and Liliana could sure use a house. Mariel and her family need one even more, all of them cramped in that depressing old motel room.
What's wrong with you, Willa? Who cares about Mariel? That girl just stole your boyfriend….

When I see Mum sitting there waiting for us on her porch, I fight back an ocean of tears.
Be brave, Willa, be brave.
I picture all the times we sat on those steps talking about anything, everything, laughing over the littlest things, crying over the big stuff.

Inside I'm shouting,
Don't go, Mum, don't go.
Outside I put on a smiley face.

Riley and Sam load Mum's few bags and boxes into the back of the truck. Sam closes the doors, latches them.

“Those books will be so appreciated,” Mum says. “I'll ask my friend to send pictures when the new school library is all set up.”

Mum looks so happy, so excited about finally heading south, going home.

“You and your friends did another wonderful thing, Willa,” she says. “Saving one library, starting another. I'm mighty proud of you, little sister.”

I catch the cry in my throat. I suck the tears like soda through a straw, down, down into my chest, and lock them up tight for now.

This is Mum's time. Mum's time to be happy. I won't let her worry about me.

Sam and I tie a string of cans on the bumper. We tape on the
JUST MARRIED
banner Mom helped me make. She wanted to be here this morning too, but she wasn't feeling well. I wondered briefly if it was morning sickness.

“No good-byes, my Willa-like-a-willow-tree,” Mum says, her big, beautiful brown eyes brimming
with tears. She wipes her face and laughs. “All right, that's enough. If all these tears let loose, I'll make a whole new Atlantic right here on Main Street.”

I laugh and then stop. I do my best to smile. I purse my lips together tight, making little squeaking sounds, pushing the sobs back down my throat.

They get in the van. Riley starts the engine. Mum pulls the seat belt across her chest.

Sam touches my shoulder. “Don't forget your gift,” he whispers.

“These are for you, Mum.” I hand her a bouquet of sunflowers, and then another, and another, and another and another, until the whole front seat is filled with happy, sunny yellow faces.

Two other faces look out at me.

Riley smiles and winks at me, then raises his chin and looks straight ahead.

“Oh, Willa …” Mum's voice cracks. She doesn't say anything for a few moments. “You are the child … the daughter I never had.”

Mum looks at me with so much love, like she's making a mental photograph of me, every surface of her face quivering, moving, like the sea.

“I'll tell you what I'm going to do,” Mum says, sniffing. She hitches herself up higher in the seat, a smile springing out on her face.

“I'm going to toss one of these sunflowers out the window every hundred miles or so, in every state we go through. I'm going to plant seeds all the way South, so when you come to visit … soon, I hope … you'll know right where to find me. Okay, honey? Just follow the sunny road.”

“Okay, Mum.” I smile my all-time bravest smile.

Then they pull away, waving, horn beep-beeping.

Sam puts his arm around me, safe and solid like a harbor.

At the corner the truck slows down.

Mum tosses out the first flower.

She leans out the window and waves.

She waves and waves, and I wave too, until we can't see each other anymore.

Then Sam hugs me and I start to sob. Sam is crying too.

Sulamina Mum was the sun in Bramble.

It won't ever be as bright without her.

GEORGE:
Oh … I don't think it's possible to be perfect, Emily.

EMILY:
Well, my father is, and as far as I can see your father is.

There's no reason on earth why you shouldn't be, too.

—
Our Town

When Sam and I get home, Nana meets us at the front door. “Stella needs you upstairs,” she says to Sam.

I can tell something is very wrong.

“Let's go out on the porch,” Nana says softly to me.

She sits on the wicker couch. I sit beside her. One of the guests, a nice woman, a teacher from Rochester, New York, walks toward us like she wants to chat, but then she sees the look on
Nana's face and sets off down the stairs.

“Honey, I'm sorry,” Nana says, reaching out to put her hand over mine. “I have some sad news. Your mother lost the baby this morning.”

Lost the baby.
I always think that is such a stupid thing to say.
Lost the baby.
Well, where did you lose it? The supermarket? The post office? The dentist's office?
Where?

“No,” I say.

“I'm so sorry, Willa. I know it's a shock.”

“No,” I say.

Nana shakes her head sadly. “The chance of miscarriage is greater when a woman is Stella's age and …”

Miss carriage. The carriage is missing. Well, where could it be? I feel so angry I want to explode.

“You didn't blame her, did you, Nana?” I stand up, my body shaking. “You didn't say she should have slowed down or eaten more meat or—”

“Willa.” Nana sounds shocked. Then she reaches up and gently touches my face.

“Oh, Nana, I'm sorry,” I fall back down beside her, crying.

She smooths my hair, rocks me back and forth. “It's all right, honey. I know, I know….”

***

Sam takes Mom to the hospital for a surgical procedure. When they come home, she is groggy and crying.

“Let's just let her sleep,” Sam says.

In the morning I bring her a cup of tea. “Willa,” she says, propping herself up, smiling bravely, but then she starts crying.

“It's okay, Mom. It's okay.” I hug her and smooth her hair.

At school Tina is so kind to me. All my friends are. JFK says he's sorry, but he doesn't hug me. I can't worry about him right now. My mom, my family, needs me.

Sunday is Father's Day. Mom is still in bed.

“It was such a blow,” Nana says when she comes to drop off a casserole. Friends and neighbors keep bringing us food. I guess that's what people do when something sad happens. They bring food.

“She was so happy, and then so sad,” Nana says. “Give her time, honey. There are many hard things to face in this world, but few harder than the loss of a baby.”

And I was going to be a big sister.

Father's Day.

I looked forward to this day for so long. I planned to say that word, “Dad,” to Sam, but now I can't. It would be too sad for him. For three whole months Sam thought he was going to be a new dad, a new father to a sweet, tiny baby, maybe even a boy.

I see Sam out working in the garden.

I want to talk to him.

I see Sam heading to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

I want to talk to him.

It's late and the last guest has finished playing a favorite song on the piano. A breeze is lifting the curtains, better to hear the crickets chirping.

Go, Willa,
the voice inside me says.
Go, now.

Sam is sitting in the library, his head nodding forward into a book.

“Sam?”

He sees me and smiles. “Willa.”

He isn't annoyed that I've disturbed him, caught him nearly falling asleep.

I walk to his chair. I stare steel-straight into his eyes. Blue to blue.