The Book of Eleanor

by Nat Burns

  I walked over to Frederick’s bed and found him sleeping. Gabby looked up at me from the magazine she was reading.

  “We’ll bring back photos from the trip,” I told her. “I hope he won’t feel left out if he wakes up while we’re gone.”

  “I doubt he’ll wake,” she said in her softly accented English. “He was up most of the night. Couldn’t settle down.”

  I nodded. “We won’t be gone too long. I think he’ll be pleased when he finds out where we went.”

  Angie

  It was really unusual for Grey to interrupt classes, so I was mighty curious what she had up her sleeve. If it had been closer to mealtime, I would have expected a surprise meal out. She’d done that before, but this was early afternoon. I admit I was pretty well bewildered. Yet I trusted her and went along eagerly.

  As if I wouldn’t do anything for Grey Graham. After seeing the collapsed roof on the SPICEY building after the storm last year, she had moved us right into the Bookmark without blinking an eye. She dealt with the noise, the aggravation, the bus taking over her alley parking space, and the reduction of her business footage without a cross word. She had definitely taken the SPICEY under her wing. For that alone, I would be eternally grateful.

  To my surprise, the bus turned right instead of left toward the island. I figured it had to be a shopping excursion, or we were going out for an ice cream treat. As if confirming my suspicions, in just a few short minutes we pulled into the parking lot of the local Dairy Queen. I started to raise a cheer, but to my surprise, the padre continued on through the parking lot and into the lot next to it.

  Then I saw the signs, and sudden hot tears blurred my vision. The long, rigid signs above both front and side doors, artfully designed in bright primary colors, proclaimed The South Padre Island Center for Extraordinary Youth.

  I rose and moved forward while the bus pulled to a stop in front of the double doors at the side entrance. The padre chuckled as he swung open the bus door. I practically fell down the steps and out of the bus.

  Looking like ants abandoning a waterlogged anthill, Couscous’s family poured through the doors. I also saw Sanchez, who came up and gave me a big hug. Cathy was there with Stephanie, and I saw Melissa, who waved and gestured with an uncharacteristic thumbs-up sign. Bringing up the rear of the group came big, old, lumbering Couscous and my dear Mama, both beaming as they shared in my joy.

  “How...but how?” was the extent of my brilliance as I was surrounded by all the people I cared so much about.

  Sensing my dilemma, Mama came over to me. “It was all Grey’s idea, honey. She approached Couscous and he got this little piece of land for a song, or so he says.”

  “I made the owner an offer he couldn’t refuse,” Couscous said, causing a ripple of hilarity to break across the crowd.

  I was too shell-shocked for laughter. I looked back toward the bus where Grey was helping Emma Rachel and the padre unload the kids from the hydraulic platform at the back.

  Emilio ran up to me and lifted me off the ground in his exuberance. He put me down and ran off into the building, followed by Carter, Stevie and the rest of the group.

  I glanced back and saw Grey watching me. I caught her eyes and tried to thank her with my gaze, but there were so many tears, it was tough going. She shooed me away, motioning for me to go inside. I lowered my face and shook my head, knowing I wouldn’t even be able to talk if I went up to her right now.

  Shy and confused, Sally moved to me and buried her face in my stomach. She held her Piggy doll tightly pressed to her chest. I took her hand and we went inside together.

  She abandoned me almost immediately because the long table in the center of the big room was loaded with a huge sheet cake and four tubs of ice cream. It was under siege by a horde of young people as Melissa and Sanchez tried to serve everyone. Grey and the padre pushed Connie and Delicia over to the table and pitched in to help.

  “That’s quite a woman you got there,” said Couscous. He had taken a seat near the doorway. His ham-like hands were folded together atop the curve of his ornate walking stick.

  “How?” I asked, again showing my brilliant use of language.

  Couscous laughed and shrugged. “She called me when the roof went on the old building. Said we needed a place for the kids and for you to teach. We been working on it ever since. She hired some architect to design it and brought in some company from McAllen to build it.” He looked across the room. “I think they did a good job.”

  I swiped at my eyes and took a good look around, something I hadn’t taken the time to do yet. The huge common room had been divided into four quadrants, each filled with new school furniture, solid functional pieces waiting to be used by students.

  I looked up and noted that they had installed accordion-style room dividers that could be pulled into place via tracks set into the twelve-foot high ceiling. One quadrant, closest to the double doors in the far wall, had been made into a cafeteria, already equipped with tables and chairs, items that were fast taken over by those who had been served ice cream and cake.

  To my right, toward the back of the building, were two restrooms with wide doorways and handicap access signs. Beyond them, three gaping doorways which were no doubt offices.

  I found my voice finally. “This is just incredible,” I said softly. “I passed this building just about every day, and every time I saw it, I just assumed it was another real estate office being built. I never even guessed. Amazing.”

  “Hey, I been meaning to ask you. How come my kids ain’t extraordinary?”

  Confused, I turned to him. “What’s that?”

  “This place,” he indicated the building. “For extraordinary youth. Ain’t my kids extraordinary?”

  I corrected him automatically. “Aren’t. And of course they are.”

  He shrugged expressively. “So how come they can’t go here?”

  I studied him, thinking about the requirements for the charter school, how they might have to be altered. My mind expanded with new options, new challenges. “Of course they can go to school here. Do you want them to?”

  “I do.” He nodded slowly. “Make it happen.”

  I chuckled. “Okay. I will.”

  Grey carried over a large bowl filled with cake and ice cream and handed it to Couscous.

  “So I can surmise that you are pleased?” she asked me coyly.

  “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” I replied.

  “Come see the offices,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me along the hallway. “By the way, Couscous says you can own the land, if you want, just by paying him one hundred dollars a month.”

  “Man, you guys are unbelievable. How will I ever pay you back?”

  She paused in her headlong rush to look at me with questioning eyes. “Why, you already have, honey. Anyway, I thought you’d like this office best,” she said, stepping through the first door on the right. “We got you a new desk and everything.”

  I looked through the door, focusing on the framed and mounted shadow box bearing the metal plaque we had rescued from the old school building. I almost choked up again.

  Grey glanced at me, then turned and pointed out the window. “You can see the bay from this window here and know we’re looking at the same scenery each day.”

  I noted that someone had framed David’s sign and hung it to the right of the doorway. I touched it, then closed the door and moved to stand close behind Grey at the window. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed my face to her sweet-smelling hair.

  “It’ll be strange being away from you for so many hours at a time,” I murmured, sighing.

  She turned in my arms and pensively studied my face. “But we’ll always have the nights,” she said with impish delight.

  I kissed her thoroughly, taking my time as I curved her pliant body into mine. “Oh yes, there are always the nights,” I whispered against her lips.

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