I skim through several college brochures, searching for one with a good writing program. Dad and I have been talking more. High school seemed like it would last forever, but Jeff is graduating in two months, and next year I’ll be a junior.
“I can’t believe you went to Alabama all by yourself,” Amy said when I told her about my trip. She acted impressed and insisted that next time I take her along.
I think about high school. Dad said I should make the most of these years. I’ve signed up to work on the school newspaper. They asked me to write book reviews. I’m going to start with Mockingbird.
It’s dusk when our family attends Good Friday services at St. Agnes Church, as we do every year. This is the church where Dad and Susan will be married in June. I sit next to Dad in the front row as the priest talks of death and resurrection and starting anew, like the green buds on the ash tree outside the church. Father McGuire looks down at me and I remember the magnolia trees and how alive I’d felt standing in front of the Monroeville Courthouse Museum. Maybe because I’d just finished reading Mom’s diary, or maybe because I know she would have felt the same way.
After church we go to the Knights of Columbus fish fry because Dad volunteered to work. Dad takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt as he prepares to take over as server. They’re short on help. Dad looks at me, winks, and points to an apron.
“Come on.” I grab Jeff’s arm. “Time to put that free-throw shooting arm to work.”
Pretty soon all five of us are pitching in, clearing off tables, carrying pans from the kitchen, and pouring steaming cups of coffee. The place is crowded, and the line waiting to eat stretches out the front door.
An older woman with white hair tied up in a bun holds on to a walker while trying to balance her plate as she stands in line. She grimaces from the effort. I offer to carry her plate to the table.
“Thank you, dear.”
When I fill her coffee cup she pats me on the arm. “You are so much like your father.” She smiles and sits down.
Later, Jeff and I are working the same table; he’s clearing off and I’m setting up clean silverware and cups.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he says as he holds a dirty plate in his hands. “I mean, I still think you’re psycho, but you had a lot of guts to go all the way to Alabama to visit your hero. Too bad you didn’t meet her.”
I keep working. “Who says I didn’t meet her?”
Jeff looks at me as if he can’t decide whether I’m lying. He shakes his head. “You were definitely adopted.”
We work for two hours before the crowd lessens and we get a chance to sit down and eat. Everything smells fishy, even my new blouse. We’re all sweaty, but hard work can make even a piece of breaded cod and runny coleslaw appetizing. I look up from my plate and catch Dad gazing at Susan. His eyes beam with affection, and I know this is the way things are supposed to be.
“Anyone for dessert?” Dad looks toward the cake table.
“Sure. Go for it,” I reply. Susan smiles at me and I smile back.
A book is the one connection Erin has to her dead mother. But how much can Erin really learn about her mom from a tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird? It’s time she hits the road to find out.
Dear Mom,
Harper Lee once wrote, “As one holds down a cork to the bottom of a stream, so may love be imprisoned by self.” I feel like I’ve become uncorked and let loose with a flood of feelings I didn’t even know I had. Your diary was the best gift I’ll ever receive. Dad says I remind him of you. Now that I’ve gotten to know you, I think you would have liked Susan. She’s not so bad, after all. I’ll be off to college in a couple of years and Dad will need someone. It’s good he has Susan. I guess that’s a start.
Thanks for sending me on a journey I’ll never forget. I’ll write again later.
Love,
Erin
Thank you to the following:
Jane Resh-Thomas and my writing groups; Christy Ottaviano; Jennifer Flannery; Jim Ellsworth, computer genius, for the great bookmarks; student editors Deanna Anderson, Elle Bowman, Katie Broadwell, Samantha Olsen, and Debra Molstad; Monica
Barnes, who traveled with me to Monroeville, Alabama; the residents of Monroeville, Alabama, who showed us what
Southern hospitality is all about.
And a special thank-you to Harper Lee for inspiring writers to strive for what she’s already attained: perfection.
Loretta Ellsworth is the author of the acclaimed novel The Shrouding Woman. While growing up, the author spent most of her summer afternoons on a blanket under a tree reading books from the bookmobile. She says that To Kill a Mockingbird is her favorite, “a timeless book that just keeps getting better with age.”
Ms. Ellsworth lives in Lakeville, Minnesota, with her family.
www.lorettaellsworth.com
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
Copyright © 2007 by Loretta Ellsworth
All rights reserved.
Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Publishers since 1866
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, New York 10010
www.HenryHoltKids.com
eISBN 9781429998383
First eBook Edition : April 2011
ISBN-13: 978-0-8050-7236-5
ISBN-10: 0-8050-7236-5
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ellsworth, Loretta.
In search of Mockingbird / Loretta Ellsworth.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: On the eve of her sixteenth birthday, Erin receives her
long-dead mother’s diary, which reveals that she too revered Harper Lee’s
To Kill a Mockingbird and wanted to be a writer, and Erin impulsively
decides to take the Greyhound bus from St. Paul, Minnesota, to Monroeville,
Alabama, to visit the reclusive author.
[1. Buses—Fiction. 2. Mothers—Fiction. 3. Authorship—Fiction.
4. Coming of age—Fiction. 5. Diaries—Fiction. 6. Lee, Harper. To kill a
mockingbird—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.E4783In 2007 [Fic]—dc22 2006018768
First edition—2007
In Search of Mockingbird Page 11
