“Probably up to two years. It could be longer because we’re still here. It will be tough for us to get all the paperwork we need, not to mention do home visits, when we don’t have a place back in the States yet. But we’re going to dive in and do what we can.”
“We’re excited for you guys,” Maddie said. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you from here. Do is really good with paperwork, and I’m really good with BSing people to make them do what I want.”
“Thank you! I very well may take you up on that. Listen, I gotta go. I want to call Mom and Dad and tell them too.”
“Of course. Congratulations. That’s a really big decision. I can’t wait until we can talk more about it,” I said all in one breath.
“Yep. Love you.”
Maddie crashed right after the call while I crept downstairs and paced in my living room. I hadn’t seen this one coming. Coco and Mark would be loving, responsible parents, and it didn’t surprise me that they were ready to start a family when they got back. I wondered whether they had decided that adopting was the right way for them or if they’d tried to have a biological child and it hadn’t worked out.
What if she became a mom before I did? Or at a time that was really hard for me?
I immediately felt like a creep. Instead, I would focus on how amazing it would be if Coco and I ended up having children of a similar age.
I called Kendra after Maddie left on Monday afternoon. “How did the rest of this weekend go?”
“The lending library was packed. I was trying to help everyone, and meanwhile our favorite voluble third-grade teacher, Benton, came on Saturday looking for a book on string theory—which I regretted to inform him we didn’t have—and then he spent forty-five minutes trying to explain string theory to me and its relationship to time travel even though I hadn’t asked.”
“He’s coming to the library now?” I asked. “Wow, he must really like you. He can’t wait until the next school day to see you.”
I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I think he enjoys torturing me in and out of school. He always comes by looking for some random book. Every time, I have to bite my tongue to avoid telling him to check the Chatsworth Library of Obscurity. But I know that’s not very nice and that you would never say something like that to a library visitor.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “We want to keep them coming back even if we don’t have the books they ask for.”
“Well, I don’t know if I really do want to keep Benton coming back. I feel like we get enough of his mug and his specs at school.” Kendra paused, and even though I hadn’t asked, she said, “He didn’t show.”
I sighed, knowing she meant Shep and unsure whether to wish he had or to be relieved that he hadn’t and hopeful that he would soon.
“Listen, Dodie, I’ve got to hop off. Mackie’s calling for some reason.”
An hour later, I was in the library sifting through the comment cards envelope when I heard a knock on the sunroom door. Kendra was standing on the stoop with a fist full of tissues, the whole of it such a wet and soggy mess that it couldn’t dry any of the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Kendra?” I urged, shepherding her to the wing chairs and plunking a box of tissues next to her.
“It’s Sullivan,” Kendra said.
“Oh no, what is it?”
“She-she-she—” Kendra stammered, sucking huge breaths of air through each sob, “she’s dead.”
All the air disappeared from the room, and I swayed on my chair. “No,” I managed. Kendra was pulling tissues out of the box and crushing them against her dripping nose.
She sent the box back my way as tears streamed down my face. “What happened?”
“It was an aneurysm.”
“Oh God!” I cried. “Oh God, was she with Terabithia at the time?”
“No, Mackie and Jeff had taken him to the children’s museum. She was supposed to meet friends for lunch, and when she didn’t arrive, they called Jeff, and he went to her place and found her. It was too late, of course; it must have been over in a second. The funeral is tomorrow. Mackie wanted me to let you know. She was too upset to tell you herself, and she only called me because Sullivan was supposed to come over this morning so we could catch up.” A fresh raft of tears spilled over her cheeks at that.
I felt dazed, like it was all a bad dream. My friend. How could she be gone, like that? Poor Terabithia. Poor Mackie and Jeff.
After Kendra left, I called Mackie, trying to hold it together. I didn’t expect her to pick up the phone. But she did.
“Mackie, I’m so sorry,” I said.
She sniffled through a meek thank you.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. My stomach fell to my feet as I remembered the way Sullivan had winced in the light at the park. Stop it, I ordered. I knew from one of Benton’s random, rambling monologues in the teachers’ lounge that aneurysms were often impossible to predict, that sometimes nothing could be done to prevent them or save the person.
“No, I think we’ve got it all covered. The funeral will be at Eternal Rest at ten tomorrow, and the burial’s at Azalea Cemetery, and afterward people can come back to our house for a bite.”
“Please,” I begged, “give me something to do.”
She paused. “You know that banana-pineapple spice cake you make with the cream cheese frosting?”
“Yes, the hummingbird cake.” It had been Sullivan’s favorite. She’d said it was a strange combination of flavors that somehow totally worked. Then she’d smiled slyly in my direction, as if she had thought that also described me.
“If it’s not too much trouble and you wanted to bring one of those . . . or anything really,” Mackie said. “Your raspberry biscuits or those peanut-butter-pocket double-chocolate-chip cookies. Or whatever you want . . . I should go.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” I rushed to say. “Call me back if there’s anything else you need.”
Walking through the aisles of the supermarket picking up ingredients like a zombie, I wondered if Terabithia had started to miss his mother yet or whether he sensed at all that his life had changed drastically again. Back at my house, surrounded by bowls of biscuit and cookie and cake batter, I kept myself busy late into the night. My mind wandered between memories of Sullivan in art school, in New York, and in Chatsworth. I kept flashing back to the fear in Terabithia’s eyes the night of the first snow, and it was like a knife in my heart—one that kept stabbing away until finally, after hours of turning over and over in bed, I must have cried myself to sleep.
—EIGHT—
The entire back seat of the car was covered with foil-wrapped platters of baked goods. “Maybe I did go a little overboard,” I admitted, making an effort to smile. It hurt my face too much.
Kendra patted my arm. “People will be hungry,” she said, and it sounded odd to both of us even though I knew she was right. There was something comforting about the sheer physicality of eating when grief turned the rest of the world so distant and immaterial.
Eternal Rest was almost empty when we arrived.
From the back of the church, I spotted Jeff’s head with its wisps of white hair bowing over Terabithia’s espresso-haloed one. Terabithia. I was almost afraid to see him because I didn’t want to make the situation even worse. Mackie was receiving guests, dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes but with a brave smile on her face.
After Kendra and I kissed her on the cheeks and told her again how sorry we were, Kendra took a seat a couple rows back. I wanted to occupy Terabithia so that Jeff could fulfill his duties, and Kendra sensed that we shouldn’t crowd the little guy any more than he probably already had been since the tragic event. She was still somewhat of a stranger to Terabithia, at least compared to me.
“Hi, Jeff,” I said. “Hi, Boo.”
Terabithia’s lips turned up in a delighted smile. He raised his Goya-painting eyes up to me. “Dada!” he called me. It was close enough to Do
die. Besides, at a year old, he was a genius in my eyes for being able to talk at all.
“Hi, babe.” I wrapped him in a hug and willed myself not to squeeze too hard. “Whatcha doin’?”
He held a shiny turquoise car up to me.
“Mooom moooom,” Terabithia said for emphasis.
“Vroooom,” I agreed, drawing out the vowels to make him smile. It worked. Jeff patted me on the shoulder, nodding his gratitude, and headed down the aisle to join Mackie.
By nine forty-five, every pew was full. Sullivan had scads of friends from growing up in town, and I suspected a lot of her portrait clients had come too. Was that . . . ? No, it couldn’t be. But yes . . . I would recognize that hair anywhere. He turned, and our eyes met. His were full of concern. Did Shep know Sullivan? I didn’t think so, but then again, Chatsworth was a small town.
At ten, the minister began the ceremony. Eternal Rest was a very open-minded, low-key church, a place where Sullivan had gone since she was a teenager. She had told me that she had never felt judged there and that the other churchgoers were from all walks of life, which was the way she had thought any kind of worship should be.
As I sat, feeling dazed by her absence, the minister’s voice was soothing. But I was finding his words about it being “her time” and “God’s way is bigger than our understanding” hard to swallow. The only thing that comforted me at all was his assurance that her “passage had been swift.” It was so important to believe that she had not suffered physically, and even more that she hadn’t had time to suffer mentally for even a moment worrying about Terabithia’s future without her. My heart was like a big burning stone as I thought about that.
When the ceremony ended, everyone filed out. Shep hovered near the back, reading the church brochures on the table. I wasn’t in any state to talk, but I couldn’t exactly ignore him. Not that I wanted to.
“Can I help you with anything?” I asked Mackie.
“No, we’ve got it. You know where to go, right?”
“Yes. I’ll see you there.”
Shep turned and dropped the brochure in his hand. He came close. God, he smelled so good. “How are you?” His brow was furrowed.
“I’m . . . I’m . . .” I swallowed hard. My face probably already looked like a beet.
He gave me a spontaneous hug, pulling away quickly when my body went rigid with surprise.
I recovered myself and asked, “Did you know Sullivan?”
“Not really.”
“Oh. Then, do you know Mackie and Jeff?”
“I’ve never met Mackie. I’ve spoken to Jeff a couple times. I really came for—”
In a daze, I interrupted. “Are you coming to the cemetery?”
“For . . . ,” Shep continued, watching my face closely, “the funeral. I don’t think it would be right for me to be at the burial.”
“Please,” I found myself saying.
“Okay. I’ll meet you there,” he immediately agreed.
“What was that about?” Kendra asked as we pulled out and joined the line of cars.
“I have no idea,” I admitted.
At Azalea, Kendra and I stood across from Jeff, Mackie, and Terabithia, who were all holding hands. A neat rectangular hole parsed the space between us. Shep materialized behind me at some point. As the coffin was lowered, Terabithia looked up at Mackie, tugging on her arm. “Where Mama? Where Mama?” My knees quavered, but Shep’s arm was faster as he cinched me around the waist, and my head lolled against his shoulder. I tried to breathe as deeply as I could, willing myself to stand up straight and not draw attention. Kendra gently took my hand and squeezed.
Mackie had displayed photos of Sullivan and Terabithia all over the living room of her home, where a buffet table was spread with a crisp cream tablecloth topped with all our offerings. I carried Terabithia over to the table. He pointed at it with questioning eyes, then made the little grunt that was still his chief way of communicating besides gesturing wildly.
“Which one did I bake?” I translated. He watched me with wide eyes. “Let’s make a plate of tiny tastes.”
I put a bit of raspberry biscuit, a forkful of hummingbird cake, a sliver of mint brownie, and two bite-size peanut-butter-pocket double-chocolate-chip cookies on a plate for him. He still seemed to be waiting, and as soon as I looked down at him, he grunted in the direction of the peanut-butter-pocket double-chocolate-chip cookies on the table. I angled the plate I was holding so he could see there were already two on it. He grunted again, unimpressed. “Fine, then, three,” I said. He waved his arms in satisfaction. I snuggled him into my lap on the couch, holding the plate tightly so he wouldn’t kick it over with his bouncing knees.
He stuck his finger into the pocket of peanut butter on top of a cookie, looking happy as the filling squished out. I gave him a bite of that one. Next he grunted at the cake, then went to smack it with his hand, but I was too quick for him. Somehow I managed to get all the teeny tasting platter into his mouth. Except for a few smears of icing that ended up on his overalls. And my sweater, skirt, and shoe.
Mackie and Jeff kept coming to check on us. About a half hour before the guests started to leave, they insisted I take a break and speak to some of the adults. I found it unusually difficult to make small talk; I had to force myself.
Mackie and Jeff pulled me aside on my way out. “You were indispensable today, Dodie,” Mackie said. “We couldn’t have done it without you.” As if in confirmation, Terabithia attached himself to my leg. I picked him up and gave him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. He giggled, but then a cloud passed over his face. I wanted so badly to know what his little baby mind was thinking in that moment.
“It was my pleasure,” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I want to help in any way I can. I hope you’ll let me keep coming to see him?” As soon as it came out of my mouth, I worried that I was obligating them to me on a day that had already brought so many awful obligations.
There was no need. “I was so hoping you would feel that way,” Mackie said, squeezing my hand. “You come as often as you like.”
A few days after the funeral, I tried to go into the library. Kendra was there with me, just in case I lost it. She was dealing with her grief by keeping busy. Benton was there, too, since apparently he made it his business to be at the library pretty much whenever Kendra was. After about an hour, I broke down.
“Dodie,” Kendra said gently, extracting a book from my hands, “you’re getting it all wet.” She was right. I had dripped on a whole pile of books, in fact.
“Plus I don’t think it’s very encouraging for the library visitors.” She gestured around the library. About five patrons were peeping over their books, trying to decide whether to approach the desk to check out.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t stop thinking about Sullivan. And Terabithia.”
“Go be with him,” Kendra urged.
“Yeah,” Benton said, materializing from between the stacks with an armful of books to be reshelved. “We got it.”
I raised an eyebrow at Kendra. She shrugged, smiled at Benton, and said, “Right. We got it.”
After that, Kendra took a bunch more shifts in the library for me. She claimed she needed the continuing education hours and that it kept her mind off her sadness about Sullivan. I tried not to think about the fact that, unlike me, Kendra was a pro with an advanced library science degree. It should have been a comfort knowing the lending library was in good hands, but a little part of me was afraid the library might stop needing me. Keeping it going was more important than my ego, though, and I needed Kendra’s help for that.
Over the next several weeks, I went to Mackie and Jeff’s almost every day. I would rush home after work, change quickly, and head over, usually armed with presents for Terabithia or meals for everyone. “He’s going to get spoiled,” Jeff chastised, but I could tell that he didn’t mean it, that it was only something you were meant to say when a child already had everything and was in danger of beco
ming greedy—hardly the reality in Terabithia’s case.
“And you’re going to make us fat,” Mackie chimed in, patting her tiny waist. Unlikely. I was more afraid that what I cooked for them at night when I got home was all they’d been eating since finishing the dinners friends and family had brought for the first week after Sullivan had passed away.
My heart ached at the knowledge that there was no such thing as safe, no matter how much you loved someone. This thought made me hug Terabithia so hard he squeaked, looking at me with confusion. My eyes welled up, and before I could help it, tears leaked out of them. His lip began trembling, and then he began to bawl too.
“I got him,” Mackie said. “Go home and get some rest.”
When my mom called to check on me, I was in hysterics. “I cried in front of Terabithia,” I wailed. “I’m supposed to make things easier, and instead I’m making them worse. I’m going to be such a terrible mother.”
“Oh, Dodie.” She sighed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You care. That’s what good mothers do. And besides, no one knows what to do at times like these. It’s senseless when someone so young dies. You have to process it in your own way. And try to go easy on yourself.”
March 2008
About two weeks later, I was sitting upstairs in my room organizing pictures of Terabithia into an album for Mackie and Jeff. There were a few recent ones of Sullivan in there; I’d had to snap most of them surreptitiously since she had hated pictures of herself as much as she had loved them of Boo.
It was seven o’clock in the evening, and the library was closing. I walked to the window. I could see the tops of the heads of a few children and their parents who were leaving. A couple of the firefighters were there, too, joking about something, one of them punching the other in the arm. I saw Elmira unzip her backpack and put in two books. She still clutched one in her other hand, and she began walking with it open in front of her. Walking and reading. A smile played across my lips. I missed the library. I missed the people. I needed to go back.
Shep was waiting for me to unlock the sunroom door when I arrived home after school the next day. He hadn’t ever come so early. He was shifting from foot to foot. Jefferson Hendrow, the little boy from story circle, whispered, “Mama, why is that man doing the pee-pee dance in front of the library?” as I walked by. I dissolved into laughter.
The Lending Library Page 11
