To my mom, who knows how to make a place feel like home
Chapter 1
“WILLA, PLEASE STOP KICKING MY Seat.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Willa Dunlap said to her mom as she stretched to see out the window. She really didn’t mean to kick the seat. But they had been in the car FOREVER, driving all the way from Chicago to Chincoteague Island in Virginia.
Now Willa was about to miss out on the very best part. She turned and looked out the back. All she wanted was a peek at one of the Chincoteague ponies, running on the sandy beach. She thought if she saw one, it would be a sign that moving to the island and leaving her friends behind was worth it.
Willa tried to see past the houses and across the bay but couldn’t spot a thing. It was too foggy.
“We’re almost home,” Mom announced. “It’s coming up on the left.”
Willa rolled her eyes, hoping to get the attention of her little brother, Ben. He didn’t like it when Mom called the new house “home,” either. They didn’t live there yet. And, as far as Willa knew, no one had lived in the old gray house in a long time. Willa thought there was a good reason. It didn’t look very “homey” in pictures.
She glanced around at the houses along the narrow street. They looked like they had been built a long time ago, but they did have lots of new flowers in the front yards. The Dunlaps had never had a yard, just a balcony in their last apartment in Chicago.
One of the houses on the street had a giant tree with a rope swing hanging from a high branch. Willa had only swung on the chain-link swings in the city parks with her best friend, Kate.
Ben had hardly said one word the whole ride. But that wasn’t unusual for him. He had read through his comic collection and then napped. Willa couldn’t nap. She couldn’t even read one of the dozen books in her backpack. She was too anxious.
Their dad had been quiet too. He had been quiet a lot since they had decided to move. The only thing he had talked about was the new kitchen for the new restaurant they were going to open. Their parents were going to run a bed-and-breakfast, and their dad would be the head chef.
The whole family had agreed that they would call the restaurant the Family Farm. It sounded cozy and friendly. Dad liked how it hinted that they were going to try to grow some of their own food. Willa and Ben liked how it sounded as if there would be animals there. But neither Mom nor Dad had made any promises about pets.
“Yay! We’re here! Our new home!” Mom made another happy announcement. Willa knew that, in many ways, this already was home for her mom. She had grown up on Chincoteague Island. She had grown up hearing the stories of the famous ponies of nearby Assateague Island.
Once the car was parked, Mom swung her door open, stepped out, and breathed in the seaside air. Willa could already smell the salt in the car. She remembered it from trips to her grandparents’ house. The smell of the ocean was everywhere.
Willa jumped out of the backseat and joined her mother. She leaned back as she looked up to the roof and back down again. There was a lot of house to see: three stories; a big covered porch that wrapped around the front to the side; and lots of windows set on a sloping roof.
“You don’t think it’s haunted, do you?”
Willa flinched. She hadn’t heard Ben come up behind her. It didn’t help that he almost always spoke in a whisper.
“No,” she answered, but the house was large enough for a whole family of ghosts, plus grandparent ghosts too. “It’s just old. Mom and Dad will fix it up. You’ll see.”
Willa skipped to the end of the driveway and back, trying to loosen up her knees after the drive. Her parents stood in front of the house. Her dad had his hand resting on her mom’s shoulder, and her mom had her arm around his waist.
“A cat!” Ben yelped.
He pointed and jogged up onto the porch. Wood planks creaked as he ran. The cat’s fur was a mess of colors—brown, white, orange, and black—but its eyes were a clear, bright green.
Willa glanced at Dad and held her breath. How long until he tried to stop Ben? The cat’s fur wasn’t scraggly, and the animal wasn’t terribly skinny, but it sure looked like a stray.
“Hey now, Ben,” Dad called. “We don’t know that cat.”
Willa laughed. Of course they didn’t know the cat.
“Don’t get any ideas, buddy,” Dad continued. “We have a lot of work to do around this place. We cannot take on the responsibility of a pet right now.”
What was the point of moving to a gigantic house if you couldn’t have pets? Willa rushed to join Ben. She loved cats. She loved most animals. She understood what her dad was saying, but she hoped he would change his mind.
Just as Willa reached her brother, the cat jumped to the porch railing and began to lick her paw.
“I was so close,” Ben said, his bangs hanging in his hazel eyes.
“Come on, you two,” Dad called again. “We have to unpack this car. We don’t have time to chase some stray cat.”
“It isn’t just any cat,” a voice announced. “It’s New Cat.”
A barefoot kid in cutoff jeans stood in their driveway, holding a platter that was covered in shiny, silver foil. He didn’t look much older than Ben.
“New Cat belongs here. She always has,” the boy explained.
“Hi,” Mom said. “I’m Amelia Dunlap. This is my family, Ben, Willa, and my husband, Eric.”
“Hi,” the boy answered, striding toward her. “I’m Chipper. My mom says, ‘Welcome to Chincoteague.’ She told me to give you these. You’re lucky.” He held out the platter. As soon as Willa and Ben’s mom took it, the boy turned and ran.
Chapter 2
THE WHOLE FAMILY WATCHED CHIPPER run down the road.
Mom pulled back the foil from the casserole dish. “Oh, wow. Fried oysters! I’m sure of it.” She breathed in the steam from the golden nuggets.
“We’re going to eat that?” Willa asked.
Her mom nodded.
“But it’s from a stranger,” Ben pointed out. “You said to never eat food from strangers.”
“There are no strangers on Chincoteague,” their mom answered. She set the dish down on the porch stairs and took a seat. “Come on, you guys.”
Their dad seemed even less sure about the mystery food. He leaned in to smell it for himself. “I’m not going to turn down homemade food,” he said, “but I would rather be making dinner in my own kitchen.” Willa and Ben locked eyes. There Dad went, talking about the new kitchen again.
“Oysters are seafood, aren’t they?” Ben made a funny face.
“Turn up your nose all you want. It leaves more for me.” Mom picked a crispy piece from the dish. She dipped it into the creamy sauce and took a noisy bite. She closed her eyes. “Delicious,” she said, reaching for another.
Dad grabbed the next-largest piece and popped it into his mouth. “I take it back,” he said. “I will happily eat this over my cooking. It’s fantastic.”
It was not often that their dad enjoyed someone else’s cooking. Sometimes a sandwich was “boring” or mashed potatoes were “too gummy.” Dad had an odd way of talking about food.
Ben took a small bite. “I don’t even taste the seafood,” he admitted. “I don’t even see the seafood.” Ben cracked himself up.
The whole family took turns picking up the last crumbs of deep-fried goodness. In the open air, it felt like the start of a new adventure that they would all share. But for Willa, it changed as soon as they went inside.
The house was dusty and dim. The sun cast long shadows across the wooden floor. The ceilings were high and the rooms empty. There was a lot of space, but to Willa it didn’t feel like home.
Willa’s large duffel bag threw her off balance. She adjusted her grip as she started up
the old, wide staircase.
“Honey, just leave everything in the main room for tonight,” Mom said. “We need to clean the upstairs before we take stuff up there.”
With a sigh, Willa dropped her backpack and duffel next to Ben’s stuff. It didn’t take her long to feel cooped up, surrounded by boxes and packed bags.
When Ben followed their parents to the back of the house, Willa slipped out the front door.
She could practically smell her way to the bay. The breeze swept in from the ocean. She followed the road they had driven on earlier until she came to a path. It was narrow and cut through the tall marsh grass.
When Willa and Ben had visited before, she had explored lots of paths with Grandma Edna, her mom’s mom. Grandma Edna knew every path, every plant, and every family on Chincoteague.
Willa was surprised her grandparents hadn’t been at the house to greet them. She guessed they’d be over bright and early in the morning.
Grandma Edna and Grandpa Reed had come to see them in the city for holidays, but the Dunlaps hadn’t been to visit them on the island in a few years. Spending more time with their grandparents was a good part of moving. Willa tried not to think about the bad ones.
Leaving her best friend, Kate, was one of them. What if Willa didn’t make any friends here? What if it never felt like home?
The path finally led to a long dock that reached far into the water. Sitting down at the end, Willa felt just a little closer to Assateague, which was just across the bay.
Willa knew about the wild ponies there. Her mom had read her books, and Willa had found others in the library. The most famous of the ponies was Misty. Misty had been born on Assateague, but she had ended up living with a family on Chincoteague. That was a really long time ago.
For a few months after she had read the book about Misty, Willa had lived for ponies. She had reread the books and taken horseback-riding lessons. That was before the six months of ice-skating and the year of gymnastics. Willa had read a lot about those things too, until she had found something new.
But the ponies weren’t like famous ice-skaters or gymnasts. The ponies were a mystery to Willa. They lived on their own, surviving on their instincts. Part of Willa still didn’t believe their stories were true.
Willa took off her sandals and dangled her legs over the side. She gazed across the bay. She wondered if the ponies on the island felt free and if—
C-r-e-a-k-k-k . . .
Willa jumped as the dock creaked behind her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” her mother said, and sat next to Willa. Surprisingly, she was barefoot. Willa couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her mom barefoot outdoors.
Willa nodded. “Is it really true?” she asked. “The story of the wild ponies?”
“Well, there isn’t any way to prove it, but I believe it is true. I believe the old stories of the Spanish ship caught in a storm, and I believe that when the ship crashed, the ponies escaped as the ship sank.
“They swam to the island of Assateague that you see right there. They learned how to live and take care of themselves in a new place. They’ve been surviving ever since.”
Willa glanced over at her mom. She had a faraway look in her eyes. She squeezed Willa’s hand.
“Anyway, we do know that Misty’s story was true,” Mom said. “Dad and I have even talked about calling the bed-and-breakfast Misty Inn, because people love that story. A lot of them visit the island to see where Misty lived.”
“But I thought we were calling it the Family Farm,” Willa said.
“Well, that’s the name of the restaurant,” Mom explained. “We’ll have a different name for the inn.” She paused.
“It’s a good thing you were here, young lady,” Mom said, pushing Willa’s hair behind her ear. “Because otherwise you’d be in trouble, running off like that.”
“I thought you wanted us to be able to run off. You said you wanted us to explore more. Isn’t that why we left the city?”
“Well, yes and no,” her mom responded. “I do want those things for you, but I also want to know where you are. And you still need to watch your brother. You know, this move won’t be as easy on him.”
Does she think this is easy for me? Willa wondered.
“Ben has a harder time making friends and trying new things.” Her mom tried to explain. “You’re always finding new hobbies. It’s easier for you.”
Mom reached out and squeezed Willa’s hand again.
Willa knew her parents were worried about Ben, but she didn’t think he needed someone around all the time, acting like a babysitter.
“Come on,” Mom said, standing up. “It’s time to get back.” Willa put on her shoes and followed her mother. “The moving truck comes with our furniture tomorrow. So we’re just going to use our sleeping bags in the main room tonight. Your dad’s making popcorn.”
Popcorn was a family tradition. And a family sleepover sounded like fun. And tomorrow, the real adventure would begin. At least she hoped it would.
Chapter 3
WILLA OPENED HER EYES WITH a start. Something didn’t seem right.
She looked to one side. She could see her parents were both soundly sleeping in the dim morning light.
But when she turned to the other, Ben was gone. His sleeping bag was empty.
She quickly dressed, tugged her gym shoes on, and hurried out the back door.
Where is he? Willa worried. Mom and Dad will be so mad at me if anything happens to him.
She was staring at the old barn. It was in the very back corner of the lot, half hidden by tall grass and ivy vines.
Willa raced to the tall double doors, which were cracked open, and stepped inside.
“Ben?” she called out. “Ben?”
“Here I am,” she heard him say.
“Where?” Willa asked.
“Up here! In the hayloft,” Ben answered.
She looked up and there was her brother, sitting on the edge of a platform, swinging his legs. It wasn’t like her brother to go off on his own.
A knot was in Willa’s stomach. What if Ben fell? She tried to keep her voice steady.
“Ben, you have to come down. Now. We don’t even know if it’s safe up there.”
Ben’s smile turned into a frown. He hadn’t thought about the hayloft being dangerous. He stood up and walked to the ladder. But when he looked down, he panicked.
“I’m not climbing down that ladder,” he said. “It’s too far.”
“Well, you climbed up,” Willa said angrily.
“How about that rope?” Ben said, pointing to a thick rope that hung down to the barn floor. “It looks easier than the ladder.”
Willa walked over to the rope to check it out. It was a pulley system.
She pulled on it hard. It seemed pretty secure.
Ben looped one leg around the rope and kept one on the loft. His body swayed away from the platform and then . . . he lost his balance.
Ben tried to throw a leg out to grab at the loft, but he couldn’t reach. He grabbed the rope harder. His knuckles grew white as he dangled in the air.
“I’m stuck,” he cried. “It won’t move.”
Willa steadied the rope from the ground. “You have to slide down. Loosen up on the rope and ease yourself down.”
“I can’t,” Ben whispered. His eyes were squeezed shut.
“You have to, or else you’ll be hanging there all day. And I don’t know if the pulley will hold that long.”
Ben’s hands burned as the old rope slid through them. “Almost,” Willa said. “You can just drop.”
Ben paused but then let go, landing on his backside.
He stared at his hands. They were scraped and bloody, and they stung.
Ben bit his lower lip to keep from crying. He wiped his hands on the back of his pants.
Willa sat next to her brother and put her arm around his shoulder.
“You’ll be okay,” she said. “But next time, wake me up before you g
o.”
From where they sat, Willa could see that the barn had different sections. “Stalls,” she whispered happily to herself. Horses or ponies had probably lived there at one time. Of course, it was the perfect place for animals of all kinds. Willa and Ben had never had pets in the city. Not even a fish.
Ben took a deep breath. “Is it my fault?” he said, looking up at the loft.
“What?” said Willa.
“Is it my fault that we had to move? The whole playground thing, with those older kids?”
“Don’t be silly,” Willa said. “Mom’s wanted to move for years.”
What Willa had said was true, but Ben had caught her off guard. He hadn’t ever talked about the boys on the playground—the ones the teachers had warned his parents about. The ones who always teased Ben because he was so quiet.
“But Dad didn’t want to move,” Ben reminded her. “Maybe he changed his mind because of me.”
“Maybe he did,” Willa admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re here now.”
Her words were drowned out by the sound of an engine. Willa stood up and rushed over to the barn door.
“It’s Grandma and Grandpa,” she called to her brother. “Come on.”
Willa held her hand out to Ben, to help him stand, and they ran out to see their grandparents.
“There you are!” Grandma Edna said, opening her arms wide. Both Willa and Ben hurried over for a warm hug. She smelled sweet, like fresh hay. She wrapped one arm around each grandchild. “Can you believe we’ll get to see them all the time now, Pops?”
“Nope. Still hasn’t quite sunk in.” Grandpa Reed waited patiently. The two kids snuggled in to him next.
“Hello!” The kids’ parents waved from the porch. Mom rushed down the steps. She was already dressed in her old jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Mom first hugged her mom. Next she leaned over Ben’s head to kiss Grandpa Reed on the cheek.
“Look, there’s the cat again,” Ben exclaimed as he pointed to the back porch.
Welcome Home! Page 1
