“I can’t memorize it all,” I said. “There’s too much for me to take.”
I looked long at Lyman’s snowy hills, ran my fingertip along the chalky waves. I visited your hills, I said. I walked on them with Gray.
You did? Lyman smiled, surprised. I’d like to do the same someday. Walk them with my family.
You will, I said. When your father finally comes.
55
Gray said that after all these years of waiting for hello he couldn’t bear a sad “so long,” so we had to settle on a “see ya soon” instead. Before the morning moon had faded from the sky, Gray knocked at our cottage. Then the two of us took our last slow stroll across the field until we stopped in the same place where we talked on that first night. But this time we stood there in a quiet that felt right for Gray and me. The two of us didn’t always need to talk.
Behind us, the main house was lit up with our leaving and I could hear Mama talking to Viktor in the distance. “Your mama said I can visit in Milwaukee.” Gray’s bangs hung over his eyes. “I’ll make the drive as soon as you want company. The minute that you say.”
Truth was, I wanted Gray’s company already. I couldn’t imagine how lonely I’d feel those long hours on the train.
“Milwaukee’s pretty far away,” I said. I wasn’t sure Gray would really make that drive—even if he said so.
“Not so far now.” Gray grinned. “And I’ll be going back to music soon. I got another record in me. I think I’ll call it Raine.”
“Raine with an e?”
“Yep,” he said. “I don’t think there’s any other kind.”
I shoved my cold hands into the front pouch of my sweatshirt. In the heat of summer, I hadn’t worn it at all. It still smelled like our apartment in Milwaukee—Beauty’s sleek black fur, Mama’s morning coffee, the dryer in the basement. It was strange the way a place’s smell held on. I hoped my summer clothes would hold on to Sparrow Road so I could slip into a shirt and be back here again.
Gray stared down at his cowboy boots. “Raine,” he said, “the second chance you gave me—” He took a long, slow breath. He was struggling the same way I had struggled to say thank you to Diego. “You didn’t need to do it, and I know it.”
The morning moon was just beginning to fade quiet from the sky, and across the lake a silver fog hung over Lyman’s fields. I thought about the thousand orphans and their leaving.
“It isn’t just a chance,” I said. I didn’t want Gray to think there’d be another chance if he went back to drinking.
“No,” he said. “I know it. It isn’t just a chance, it’s the way it’s going to be now for our lives.”
When we got back to the house, Josie, Lillian, and Mama had gathered in the driveway. Viktor waited in his truck.
“Molly.” Gray gave his country shrug to Mama. A film of tears clouded his black eyes.
Mama put her arm around me. “It’s what Raine wanted, Gray.” I didn’t know if she meant leaving Sparrow Road and going home to Grandpa Mac, or meeting Gray this summer, or taking him to be my father after all.
“Still,” Gray said. I could see the fear and love he felt for Mama. “I thank you for it, Molly.”
“It was Raine I did it for, Gray.” Mama pressed her lips against my hair. “But you were right.” Mama stumbled on that last word but still she said it. “Raine was old enough to know—” She left off in the middle. I waited for her to say her father, or the truth, but instead she just said, “You.”
“My dad,” I said.
“Yep,” Gray said. “Your dad.”
“And I’m glad I got to know everybody,” Josie shouted. She stepped forward and squished me in a giant Josie hug. “And Raine just tops that list. Sparrow Road will miss you both,” Josie said. “But I want you back here for our reunion in December. And this time, you bring Grandpa Mac along.”
I glanced at Viktor. “A reunion in December? Did Viktor say it was okay?”
“Fear not!” Josie propped her big hands on her hips. “Let me worry about Viktor.”
“Josie’s staying,” Mama said to me. “She took the offer Viktor made to us. She’ll be Lillian’s company.”
“You’re staying?” I couldn’t believe wild Josie would live at Sparrow Road with Viktor. “But what about your job?”
“I’m happy where I’m needed, and it’s Lillian who really needs me now. We’re starting on piano right away! I want to get to ‘Happy Birthday.’ ” Lillian and I never got that far. “And I know Diego won’t miss our first reunion. Not with you and your mama here!” She gave a wink to Mama. “So, O’Rourkes, put it on your calendar. December.”
“I’ll be in Milwaukee before December.” Gray rubbed his eye. “Heck, I might be there next week.”
I tried to picture Gray in our apartment—Mama and Grandpa Mac in front of the TV while Gray and I talked at the kitchen table.
“And I’ve got to get to work on our Second Annual Arts Extravaganza,” Josie said. “I’m already in touch with James Delgado. We’re going to invite every orphan that we can. Hundreds. Can you imagine, Raine? So when you come back in December, we’ll get started on our plans.”
“Every orphan?” I glanced at Viktor waiting in the truck.
“I’m sure going to try.” Josie gave me one last giant squeeze.
“Write me in Milwaukee,” I said. “And I’ll send letters back.”
“Molly,” Viktor called. “The train.”
“I’ll be back,” I said to Lillian. I kissed her on the cheek the same way Diego always did. Her skin was old-cloth soft, like a nightgown that had finally worn thin. Or the baby blanket I rubbed down to a rag.
“Maybe not.” Lillian pressed a penny into my palm. “Good luck, my summer orphan. You have a family now.” Lillian patted at my shoulder.
“She does.” Gray took a couple of timid steps in my direction. Then he opened up his arms like he was hoping for a hug.
I stepped forward just as timidly. I pressed my ear against his chest and listened to the beat of his shy heart. It was the first time in my life I’d hugged my dad.
“Milwaukee then,” he whispered, but neither of us moved.
“Raine,” Mama finally said. “We’ve got a train to catch this morning.” She grabbed my hand and urged me toward the truck. I turned and gave a final wave; the same kind of half wave Gray gave that first day I saw him on the street. Then I didn’t look back until I got into Viktor’s truck.
Josie and Lillian stood waving from the porch. Gray stood where I’d left him in the driveway.
“See ya,” Gray drawled again, and I was glad he didn’t say it like a question.
“See ya,” I called back.
Viktor turned the key. “Well, then,” he said, and started down the driveway.
“December!” Josie yelled. “Don’t forget our party!”
“Ah, Josie.” Viktor shook his head. “I suspect she’ll keep me busy.”
Mama and I laughed. “Busier than you think,” I said. Viktor would never keep up with Josie’s schemes.
I turned and knelt up on the seat. Through the dusty rearview window I watched Lillian and Josie and Gray and the main house and the tower disappear behind the trees. Gone. What was or what could be? All that getting left and leaving. My stomach felt the way it had the first day I heard Gray’s songs.
Diego said if I was really lonely, I could always write our story. Save our time here on the page, the way he had when he’d made his magic door to Sparrow Road. And when you do—he’d joked that last morning in his shed—I want to be the handsome hero. The good guy who rides in on a white horse. Even gone, I could still hear his giant, happy laugh.
Out on the highway I pulled my sketchbook from my backpack. Maybe I’d start on it today. My own memory quilt of stories. I could write it on the train before I got back to Milwaukee. Before I lost the smell of Sparrow Road. Before I was an ordinary girl again, holding a secret summer in her heart.
I tilted my sketchbook away from M
ama’s watchful eyes. I needed time to tell the story to myself.
Sparrow Road, I wrote.
It was a place for wishing long and dreaming, Lyman said to me.
Yes, I said. It was.
Acknowledgments
My gratitude to all who gave gifts to Sparrow Road: Mikaela, Dylan and Tim Frederick; Martin Case (infinite gifts, always), Robert Hedin, the Anderson Center, the Bush Foundation, Callie Cardamon, Elizabeth and Greg Brazil, Marilyn McNeal, Olivia Rowe, the Sisters of Clare’s Well, Dick Stemper, Alana and Isabella Pixler, Deb Berendts, Molly Kenney, Mary Rockcastle, Chrissie Mahaffy, and the many artists whose great spirits inhabit Sparrow Road. Thank you to Rosemary Stimola for believing, and to the amazing Stacey Barney for delivering it with such love to the world.
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Sparrow Road Page 16
