A Million Ways Home

by Dianna Dorisi Winget

  “You do that,” she said.

  Trey stood in the hall, studying the Western artwork on the walls. He seemed to sense me behind him and turned. “Ready?”

  I knew I should answer him, but there was a whole mess of tears at the base of my throat, just waiting for the chance to come flooding out. I guess he could tell, because he turned and led the way down the hall and out to the car.

  “So, tell me more about this missing cell phone,” Trey said as we pulled back onto the street.

  I rubbed my face. “It’s not missing. I know who took it. The girl they make me room with.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because it was lying on my pillow when I stepped out into the hall. And a minute later it was gone. And she was the only other person there. Plus she’s just an idiot anyway. Everybody’s scared of her.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s her name?”

  “Sidney something.” I glanced over at him with a glimmer of hope. “Do you think you could get it back for me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Maybe. There was that awful word again, the same one Grandma Beth had used. Maybe we’ll be together again. Like she didn’t really believe it. What if she didn’t get better? What would happen to me? My heart started thumping like I’d been running.

  Life with Grandma Beth had always been safe and predictable and … close somehow. Kind of like being zipped up in a warm sleeping bag, with the sides only inches away and no worries about falling out. But now, I felt like I’d been yanked from the sleeping bag and dropped into the middle of a great openness, miles away from any sides or walls. I was just floundering around with no control over anything anymore, and I hated that feeling. I’d been sure that if I could only visit Grandma Beth and make sure she was okay, I’d feel so much better. But I didn’t feel better. All I felt was scared.

  I glanced over at Trey. “Have you already told your mom about me?”

  He nodded. “She’s expecting you this afternoon.”

  “And you’re sure she doesn’t mind?”

  “Trust me.”

  I sighed. At least it wasn’t very far away. I started thinking again how easy it would be to go home and get my bike when I felt Trey looking at me. I glanced over and caught him. “Why do you stare at me like that?”

  “Sorry. You just remind me of someone.”

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

  “If it doesn’t matter, why don’t you just answer the question?” He raised his eyebrows, and I gave him a sheepish grin. “You ask me lots of questions.”

  “Guess I can’t argue with that,” he said. “You look a lot like a little girl I used to know.”

  “I’m not little. I’m twelve.”

  “Okay. You look a lot like a young girl I used to know. You have the same eyes, the whole middle part of your face actually.”

  “Really? What’s her name?”

  His mouth pressed into a hard line, and I didn’t think he was going to answer. “Virginia Sykes,” he said.

  Virginia. I briefly wondered why anybody would give their kid such an old-sounding name. “Does she live around here?”

  “No.”

  That no was like a door slamming, and I knew better than to knock. “Okay,” I said.

  When Trey and I got back to the police station, he took me into Captain Ross’s office and then sat with me as I scrolled through hundreds of pictures of suspects. But none of them looked like the guy at the gas station.

  Another headache was coming on strong, and I rubbed my temples. “Sorry. I’ve looked at so many faces now I’m not sure if I’d recognize him.”

  “No problem,” Trey said. “We’ll take a break, and then I’ll introduce you to our sketch artist. She’s really good. You’ll like her.”

  A few minutes later we were back in the interview room, where the fish bubbled in their tank. A woman rose from one of the velvet-padded chairs and came toward me, hand outstretched. She reminded me of a model.

  “Hey, I’m Cindy Bradshaw. You must be Poppy?”

  “You’re the police artist?”

  “Sure am. And I hear you’re a bit of an artist yourself. Come on, let’s just sit and visit.”

  The clock showed ten minutes after one. By two o’clock I began to think maybe Cindy had forgotten why she was there.

  She propped a sketchpad on her lap and doodled something now and then, but she rarely asked anything about how the man at the gas station had looked. Instead, we talked about art, and dogs, and I told her how I’d always dreamed of illustrating kids’ picture books. Once in a while Cindy threw in a quick question like, “Should I make the chin kind of pointed or more rounded?” or “Should I make the eyes close together or about average?” Then we’d go right back to talking about boy bands or who had the best pizza in Spokane.

  Then abruptly, Cindy waved her pencil in the air with a flourish and said, “Okay, that about does it. Tell me what you think.” She turned the sketchbook around.

  It was like somebody shouted right in my face.

  I was back at the gas station, cringing against the brick wall, staring through my fingers, feeling like I might pee myself.

  “Pretty close?” Cindy asked gently.

  “Real close,” I breathed. “How did you do that?”

  “You did it. You remembered all the right details. I’ll go get this to Captain Ross so he can get the ball rolling.” She flashed me a bright smile as she stood. “It’s been awesome working with you, Poppy. I admire your courage. You’re a lot of fun, too.”

  I sat there alone, my skin crawling. When the door swung open a minute later I must’ve jumped six inches straight up.

  Trey frowned and raised his hands in surrender. “Take it easy there, Tiger, it’s only me. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Guess I’m just a little jumpy is all.”

  “I see that. Cindy says you were great to work with. Thanks for your help.”

  “She’s a really, really good artist.”

  “One of the best. We’re lucky to have her. So, you about ready to get out of here and go meet my mom?”

  “I guess. If you’re really sure she’s okay with it.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

  I fought back the urge to giggle. I did trust him, but I still felt like I was about to barge in on a party I hadn’t been invited to.

  TREY coasted up alongside a single-story duplex. It was light blue with white shutters and matching window boxes stuffed with flowers. It looked like a nice place, but I really perked up when I saw the brown-and-white basset hound lying by the front door. “Is that your mom’s dog?”

  “One of ’em. That’s Harvey.”

  I grabbed my bag and followed Trey through the chain-link gate into the yard. Harvey jogged over, giant ears bouncing and body swaying. I let him sniff my hand, and then knelt and squeezed his thick neck. “Hey, boy. Aren’t you cute. What a good dog.”

  A heavy pink tongue shot out and slathered right across my mouth. “Whoa.” I laughed. “Gross.”

  “Oh, Harvey,” a lady’s voice said, “where are your manners?”

  A smiling woman came down the steps, dressed in black yoga pants and an Adidas workout shirt. Glasses dangled against her chest, held in place by a jeweled chain that looped around her neck.

  “Mom,” Trey said, “meet Poppy Parker.”

  She took one of my hands in both of hers. “I am so happy to meet you. I’m Marti Brannigan.”

  “Hi,” I said as Harvey continued to sniff up and down my legs.

  “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind him.”

  “He’s adorable.” I said. “I love dogs.”

  A girl about my age rounded the corner of the house, pushing a wheelbarrow full of dirt and dried-up plants. Her hair was jet-black except for some brilliant pink highlights, and bare patches of skin peeked out from behind the rips in her skinny jeans. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw us
.

  “What is she doing here?” Trey asked under his breath.

  “It’s fine,” Marti murmured. She smiled at the girl. “How are things coming, Lizzie?”

  “I dug up the dahlias,” she said. “Where do you want them?”

  “There’s a wooden crate just inside the garden shed. Go ahead and put them there for now, please.” She draped an arm around my shoulders and nudged me forward. “Oh, and Lizzie, I’d like you to meet Poppy Parker.”

  Our eyes met. “Hey,” I said.

  The girl gave a barely perceptible nod before she backed up the wheelbarrow and disappeared again.

  “What is she doing here?” Trey repeated. “She’s supposed to be putting in her time at the shelter.”

  Marti clicked her tongue. “I know, TJ. But I needed some help getting the garden cleaned up for fall, and I didn’t see any reason why she couldn’t spend the afternoon here.”

  The expression on Trey’s face made me stifle a giggle. “Who is she?” I asked.

  “Just the daughter of a close friend of mine,” Marti said. She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Now come inside, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

  The rest of the crew turned out to be Pringles, the African grey parrot — who about broke my eardrums with his squawking — Thomas and Thumbelina, brother and sister Siamese cats; and Lacey, the tan-and-white Chihuahua, who stalked around me with great suspicion.

  “Everyone’s friendly,” Marti said, raising her voice over the squawking, “except for Pringles. Don’t ever stick your finger in his cage, or he’ll take it off.”

  The parrot twisted his head sideways and eyed me. “Take it off,” he said, “take it off.”

  I jumped back. “He talks!”

  “He never shuts up,” Trey said.

  Marti looked offended. “That’s not true. He’s just excited because we have company.” She took my bag from me. “Come on, and I’ll show you your room.”

  I followed her across the polished vinyl floor, around a leather sectional sofa, and into a small bedroom flooded with sunshine. She set my things on the twin bed and spread her hands. “It’s not big, but it’s all yours as long as you’re here. Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink? I have lemonade, Dr Pepper, or there’s always ice water.”

  I shook my head. “I’m okay, thanks.”

  Trey had followed us into the bedroom, and he checked his watch. “If you girls are set, I should probably go.”

  “Oh, TJ,” Marti said. “Do you really have to leave so soon?”

  “Yeah, Mom. I told the captain I’d only be a half hour.” He bent to give her a quick kiss. “You two behave yourselves now, you hear?”

  “We’ll consider it,” Marti said. “But we just may decide to create a ruckus.”

  It felt so weird to watch Trey walk out the door. Wait! I wanted to call out to him. How long am I staying here? When can I go see Grandma Beth again?

  “Do you know how long I’m supposed to be here?” I asked.

  “I don’t,” Marti said. “Hopefully a few days at the very least.”

  “Well, thanks for letting me come.”

  “I’m delighted you’re here. You’re a very important witness, Poppy. And my son likes to keep very close tabs on his witnesses, especially …” She cut herself off with an alarmed look and cleared her throat. “Well, let’s just say, especially someone like you.”

  My mind darted back to my short conversation with Trey after leaving the Huckleberry Home. “Do you know Virginia Sykes?”

  “Virginia Sykes,” she echoed softly. “I haven’t heard that name for quite a while. Did he tell you about her?”

  “Yeah,” I lied.

  “What did he say?”

  “That I looked like her and stuff. How did he know her?”

  Marti worried her teeth over her bottom lip. “She was a little neighbor girl. I’m afraid I can’t say too much more than that.”

  “Oh, okay. Sorry.”

  “No, no, nothing to be sorry about.” She reached out and took my hand again. “You know, I’ve been a widow for seven years now. But before that, I was a police sergeant’s wife for twenty-six years. And I learned the hard way that it doesn’t pay to be a blabbermouth, even though that’s still my normal tendency. Make sense?”

  “Um … sure.”

  “Good, now come sit and tell me all about your grandmother. She sounds like a lovely lady.”

  We sat on the leather sofa, and Lacey the Chihuahua came and curled up in a tiny ball against my hip. I rubbed my knuckle along her back while I told Marti about Grandma Beth and about how I planned to get her out of the nursing home as soon as I could. She listened carefully, leaning close like what I had to say was super important. Then after a while she said, “Poppy, may I ask what happened to your parents?”

  I ran my tongue over my top teeth. I hated talking about my parents, it always made me achy and sad and mad all at the same time. But Marti had been so nice to me, how could I be mean? “It’s actually a pretty short story. I never knew either of them. They were both professors of botany. My grandma told me they got awarded some special grant to go to Botswana and study the plants and flowers of Africa, and then teach for a semester at a local university.”

  “Wow, what an impressive opportunity.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t quite a year old. And they were afraid to take a baby someplace like that because they didn’t know how safe it would be. So they left me with Grandma Beth. She said they called two or three times a week for the first month, but then all of a sudden the calls just stopped. A week or so later, Grandma got a call from the U.S. embassy in Africa. They told her some anti-government rebels had bombed the university.”

  Marti’s gray eyes were huge. She drew in a long, slow breath. “And … your parents were killed?”

  “Along with ten other people.”

  “Oh, Poppy. I’m so sorry.”

  I looked away as the familiar ache took over my stomach. This was the part of the story that always made it hurt the worst. “If they’d stayed home and taken care of me like they should have, nothing would have happened to them.”

  Marti drew back, and I saw the same surprise I’d seen in Trey’s eyes, only Marti didn’t hide it nearly as well. And I felt bad, because I wanted her to like me. But as Grandma Beth often said — truth wasn’t always soft and fuzzy and warm, sometimes it was cold and hard as steel. But whether it was easy to hear or not, truth was truth.

  Marti looked off into the air. “I’m seldom speechless, but I honestly don’t know what to say, Poppy. I’m just so sorry for your loss.” She shook her head. “So your grandmother kept you.”

  “Yeah, and we’ve done real good together. Lots of kids live with their grandparents.”

  Marti clicked her tongue. “And then if all that upset wasn’t enough, you ended up witnessing a crime on top of it. I bet you feel like your life’s turned into a salt shaker.”

  “Or a snow globe. I have one of those.”

  “You do? I’d love to see it.”

  I eased away from the little dog and went into the bedroom. Below my flannel blanket, the little snow globe lay nestled in my sweatshirt. I went back out to settle on the couch with Marti and held up the globe. She slipped on her glasses for a closer look. Sunshine poured through her living room window and lit up the little red barn nestled safely inside the globe. A fir tree stood behind the barn and, in front, three tiny yellow chickens circled around a farmer, his hand hidden inside a bucket of feed.

  I told Marti about the day Grandma Beth had bought it for me as a reward for good behavior at a dentist’s appointment, and about how she’d trailed me around the store, patiently waiting, until I finally picked the one I wanted.

  “It’s charming,” Marti said. “I can imagine how special it must be to you.”

  I gave the globe a shake, and the scene turned into a flurry of white. But the blizzard quickly settled into a gentle shower of snowflakes that dropped one by one u
ntil everything was still again. Then I glanced up to find Marti watching me, and it made me feel self-conscious to have shared so much personal stuff with somebody I’d just met. I cleared my throat. “How come you call Trey ‘TJ’?”

  Marti smiled. “Oh, he’s named after his father, Jedidiah. But Trey Jedidiah seemed like such a big name when he was little, so he became TJ. Of course, nobody calls him that anymore, except for me.”

  “He said you used to take in foster kids.”

  “Yes, quite a few over the years.”

  “But you don’t anymore?”

  “No, that’s something Jedidiah and I did together. But once I lost him, everything changed.”

  There was that word again. Lost. “What happened to him?”

  “He died of complications from emphysema. He smoked a lot when he was young.” She shook her head sadly. “Such a dangerous, nasty habit.”

  The doorbell chimed. Lacey shot off my lap, and Pringles went to pieces. I covered my ears, while Marti scrambled up and hushed everyone before she opened the door.

  Miss Austin stepped in carrying a canvas duffel bag and looking a little surprised by all the racket. “My, my,” she said, when things quieted. “No one could sneak up on you, now could they?”

  I expected Miss Austin to introduce herself, but after listening to the two of them talk for a minute, I realized they’d already met. “Would you like some coffee or lemonade?” Marti asked.

  Miss Austin shook her head. “Thanks so much, but I only have a minute.” She held out the canvas bag to me. “Here you are, Poppy, your homework for the next few days. Make sure you do it so you don’t get behind.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of getting to skip school for a few days. “I could get used to this.”

  “Well, don’t. It’s only until Detective Brannigan feels it’s safe for you to go back.”

  I wondered if any of the kids would miss me. I got along okay with most of them but didn’t really have a best friend, because I liked drawing a lot better than I liked hanging out. I would miss Luke, though. He liked to draw, too — things like robots and wizards and outer-space creatures. And he didn’t do dumb stuff just to show off like most of the other boys. He was quiet and nice and really cute, too. He’d probably notice I wasn’t there. At least I hoped he would.