Back on the Map

by Lisa Ann Scott

He parked his car along the shoulder.“We’re going to do something that should’ve been taken care of a long time ago,” Joe said, grabbing a small ladder and a bucket filled with paint and tools. He headed for the sign along the highway that welcomed people to No Hope.

  I knew what he was planning. “That’s a great idea,” I said. I was surprised how much bigger the sign seemed when you were standing beside it instead of driving by it.

  Cars sped past as Joe set down his things. “Can’t imagine why we ever let it stay like this for so long.” He grabbed a can of spray paint that was the same color green as the sign and handed it to me. “Paint over the whole thing. You and Parker can take turns.”

  “Really?” Seemed like a pretty momentous occasion to entrust to the two of us.

  “Yep. There’d be no reason to do this if it wasn’t for the two of you.” He opened the ladder and set it right in front of the sign. I climbed up and took a deep breath. New Hope was going to be on the sign—and, hopefully, back on the map—soon enough.

  Parker stepped back, probably afraid of the smell. “Penny can do it all.”

  Joe held the ladder in place while I sprayed the paint back and forth across the sign. Good thing, too, because someone beeped as they drove by, and I got so startled I almost toppled off. I finished the whole thing and climbed back down.

  “That’s fast-drying paint,” Joe said. “We’ll wait twenty minutes or so, and I’ll paint on the words.”

  “Do you think we should add ‘Home of New Hope’s Finest’? I asked. “Or is that not official?”

  Joe grinned. “Sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. I say we go for it.”

  We sat in the back of his truck while we waited for the paint to dry. I looked through the trees on the highway, catching a glimpse of the house Joe had built.

  “I sure hope Wren gets to see the tree house,” I said. “Don’t you think you should try to find him and let him know you finally built it? Maybe you guys can make up and be friends again. And maybe he’d be excited to meet us.” I shrugged, hopeful.

  “I wouldn’t be able to find him. Like I said, we haven’t talked since that day.”

  I nodded sadly. “But maybe enough time has passed that you should look for him.”

  “That sign should be dry about now,” Joe said abruptly, hopping off the back of the truck.

  Clearly, he wasn’t going to answer me.

  We followed him over to the sign again. With a stack of stencils and some white spray paint, he carefully added the words:

  WELCOME TO NEW HOPE, NORTH CAROLINA. HOME OF NEW HOPE’S FINEST.

  Parker and I cheered and hugged. Then we gathered our stuff and headed back to town. I was like Milton Hershey, the founder of Hershey chocolate—who was certainly on my family tree since he had built the town of Hershey, Pennsylvania, just so he’d have a place to make his chocolate. And here I was getting our town back on the map. Must’ve had some of his ingenuity. Plus, he opened a home for orphaned boys, and we had been working on an old orphanage. And the way Parker loved his sweets so much, well, that would explain where his sweet tooth came from. Not sure exactly how he was on my family tree since he and his wife couldn’t have children, but I was probably linked to his uncle or something. I’m the descendant of a great giver.

  We drove back to the Finest, and people were buzzing around the building, including the mayor. When she saw us she headed right over. “Parker, Penny, can you come to my office, please?” She wasn’t smiling.

  We waved bye to Joe and followed her across the street and into city hall. Parker and I shared a few looks. We knew what this was about. And it didn’t seem like she had good news to share.

  “Please, have a seat.” Miss Meriwether closed the door to her office.

  We sat and I bounced one leg.

  She didn’t say anything for a few moments. “I heard back from the social worker.”

  My stomach felt queasy.

  “Did they find any family for us?” Parker asked.

  “Did they find Wren?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  My throat tightened and I couldn’t say anything.

  “So, we’re staying with Grauntie?” Parker asked.

  “For a little while longer, until they line up new foster homes.”

  “Homes?” I asked.

  “They’re going to try to find a family willing to take two children, but advised me it’s most likely going to be separate homes at first. From my understanding, it is difficult to find homes for multiple siblings.” Miss Meriwether sighed. “But the goal down the road will be to reunite you.”

  Parker and I were going to be separated. We’d been together even before we were born, and now they were going to tear us apart? I couldn’t breathe. I searched my brain for inspiration from someone on my tree, but couldn’t come up with anything. I was all alone.

  “We’re really going to miss having you children here.”

  “There’s no one here who can take us?” I asked.

  “I’ve checked. It’s a very big responsibility. I’m sorry.”

  “The Carlsons were foster parents once,” Parker said.

  “And they made it very clear they didn’t want us,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t worry, Miss Meriwether, we’ll be fine.” I swallowed. “When do you think we’ll be leaving?” I asked.

  “Sometime next week.”

  That didn’t give us much time. I had to talk to Joe. I knew he was holding something back. He had to tell me everything about Wren so I could at least find some of his kin. It was our last hope. It was that, or living in the wild.

  CHAPTER 23

  I ran to the site and looked for Joe, finding him over by the tree house. I hurried up to him, breathless. “Parker and I are getting sent to foster homes. My Grauntie can’t take care of us. We have to know where Wren is. You have to tell us how to find him. Parker says he’s here in New Hope. It’s hard to explain how he knows that—he just does.”

  Joe’s shoulders slumped.

  “Please! Do you know how we can find him?” I asked.

  And Joe nodded.

  I froze. “Wait, you know where he is?”

  “I do.” His voice was scratchy.

  I stomped my foot. “Why didn’t you tell us before? It’s really important.”

  Joe bowed his head, like he was ready to say a prayer. “Because I wasn’t sure you really wanted to find him. To learn everything that happened.”

  I threw my arms wide open. “Of course we do! He might not even know about us. This might solve all our problems! He might be able to take us in. We could finally get to know our dad. I want to see him, no matter what. Please.” I folded my hands like I was begging.

  “Okay. I’ll take you to him.” Joe led us to his truck, but he certainly took his sweet time, shuffling his feet, studying the ground “Get in,” he said quietly.

  I climbed in, over-the-moon excited that we were finally, finally going to meet our dad. But I had to fight off those angry feelings, too, that Joe hadn’t just admitted the truth when I first asked him.

  We headed toward the outskirts of town, and I wondered if there was some house nestled in the woods that we just hadn’t seen before. Joe pulled his truck into a church parking lot. Grauntie never took us to church, so I’d never been there.

  I bit my lip. Wren was a priest? I suppose that would explain a lot. But I was pretty sure a priest couldn’t take in two kids. Maybe he’d even get in trouble when he found out he had two of his own. My heart started pounding. “You’re right. Maybe he won’t want to see us,” I told Joe. Man, would it hurt to see the disappointment in his eyes when he met us. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we should go back.”

  “I’m sorry. This isn’t going to be easy, kids.” He got out of the truck and waited for us to follow him toward the church.

  I gulped, excited to be meeting our dad, but terrified he wouldn’t want us.

  But Joe didn’t walk
into the church. He walked around the side of the church, to the back.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. And then I saw.

  He was taking us to a cemetery.

  “Wait.” Tears filled my eyes. “So, he’s, he’s—”

  “No longer with us,” Joe said softly.

  My stomach turned. I pointed a finger at Parker and sputtered, “You said he was here in New Hope!”

  “He is.” Parker hung his head. “I didn’t know he was dead.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, no!” I dropped to the ground and ripped out handfuls of grass. “This isn’t fair!” I wailed. “How many kids have a mom and a dad who are dead?” I pounded my fists against the earth. “Why doesn’t anyone want us? We’re not bad kids!” Everything was bleary as I blinked through my tears.

  “I used to ask myself the same question as a kid. Why didn’t I have parents? Why didn’t anyone want me?” Joe set his hand on my shoulder. “There’s no great answer for that question. Especially for you two. You’re wonderful kids.”

  I sniffed as tears streamed down my cheeks.

  Parker gently patted my back. “Remember, Mama told us life isn’t fair. It’s true.”

  Nodding, I swiped the back of my hand across my cheeks. She had warned us.

  “I’m sorry, kids. This is why I’ve been so reluctant to tell you much about him. Because there was so much sadness to tell.” He sighed. “I’m going to pay my respects at his grave, if you’d like to join me.”

  Joe walked down a path of grass between the tombstones. Parker followed and looked back at me. He waved his arm for me to follow.

  My head was spinning and my stomach was turning, but I stood and trudged along, realizing no one had ever taken us to see Mama’s grave. I’m not even sure where it is. We didn’t go to the funeral, either. Guess everyone thought we were too little.

  Joe knelt beside a small marker and bowed his head. Parker sat to the side of it, rubbing his hand over the words carved in the pale, gray stone.

  I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to see the words telling me the truth. “How did he die?”

  “In Vietnam,” Joe said quietly. “Not long after he got there.”

  I nodded and held back another cry.

  Joe sobbed. “It still hurts so much. I didn’t want to share that hurt with you. I thought it was better you didn’t know anything. I had one of my dreams. It showed him falling on the battlefield and I … I had no way to reach him. To warn him. That was the last time I had a dream like that. Probably because they were useless. First Mary, then Wren. I couldn’t save either of them.”

  Parker looked at me, then looked at Joe. “Did he know about us?”

  “I am certain if he knew he had a baby on the way, he never would have left. To be able to start building a family of his own? It would’ve been his dream.”

  “So he didn’t leave us, then.” Parker nodded. “I’m glad I know that.”

  I got up the courage to walk to the tombstone and read the truth. That my Dad was dead. “Michael Hope, 1954–1972,” I read to myself. “Michael?” I asked aloud. “Not Wren?”

  Joe nodded. “Wren was just a nickname some of the kids had for him. The caretakers at the orphanage named him Michael Hope when the hospital sent him here as a baby. Named him after the town. He was one of the few kids that came there as a baby.”

  “Michael Hope.” I mouthed the words a few times. “I know that name. Why do I know that name?”

  I’d heard it before. My mind spun, trying to remember where. No, I hadn’t heard it. I’d seen it before—in those articles I read at the library. I closed my eyes and could remember the words: Police are not pressing charges against the driver, Michael Hope, calling it a tragic accident.

  I stopped breathing for a moment. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. I couldn’t even say the words at first. Then they came out in a whisper. “Wren was driving the car. The car that killed Mary. Our … our dad killed Mary Carlson.” My heart felt like a rock sinking to the bottom of the world.

  Joe blew out a breath and nodded. “That’s why he left, went to Vietnam. He was so ashamed of what he’d done.”

  “Did my mama know?” I asked.

  “Yes. She tried to stop him from leaving, but he wouldn’t listen. She left town the day after he did.” He sighed.

  My daddy killed Mary? My stomach felt like a giant rock had dropped inside it. My dad wasn’t a notable person. He hadn’t done something great. He wasn’t amazing or famous or brave like the people on my tree. He wasn’t what I’d imagined at all. He’d done something awful. Something horrible. He killed Mary Carlson. He was responsible for the Carlsons’ greatest heartache.

  I am the descendant of a killer.

  CHAPTER 24

  I said nothing. I just ran. Out of the cemetery, onto the road to who knows where. I ran till the air was out of my lungs. I bent over with my hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath.

  Joe pulled up next to me and opened the door to his truck. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  I wiped my cheeks. “No. It’s better that we know we are truly alone. No more fantasies about a great dad waiting to take us in.” I climbed into the truck and sat next to Parker.

  He patted my leg. “I told you not to make me find him,” he said softly. “Sometimes you should listen to me. Maybe Mama should have put me in charge.”

  Joe dropped us off at Grauntie’s. I was in a daze as we walked up the driveway, but I noticed a long tube was propped up next to the front door. It was addressed to me, from Charter Maps.

  My heart pulsed with the tiniest bit of hope. If we were back on the map, then somehow things would work out, and we’d have a place to stay here, even if our daddy was gone.

  I popped the plastic cap off the end and slid the map out. My fingers fumbled as I spread the shiny new map open on the floor of the porch. My finger traced the space between Asheville and Winston-Salem.

  No! We weren’t there. New Hope was not back on the map.

  I blinked a few times, like maybe I’d just missed it. But, no. New Hope was nowhere to be found. New Hope. No Hope.

  I’d failed. I’d been wrong. I couldn’t do something as great as getting my town back on the map and finding a home for me and Parker.

  Probably because I was nothing like the people I’d put on my tree. Guess I was more like my daddy, who caused the greatest pain to the nicest couple I knew.

  I shoved the map back into the tube and shuffled to the trading shed. My plan hadn’t worked. My daddy was dead. Parker and I were on our own.

  But we would not be split up.

  Parker walked back to the shed from the house. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to get ready.” I tried not to let him hear how upset I was. I was still in charge, and I still had to protect him. “We’ll pack our clothes in backpacks, and use one wagon for blankets and pillows and books. We’ll fill the other wagon with stuff to trade, and some of our tools, so we have to be choosy about what we’re bringing.

  “Critters, for sure. That way we can trade with the Carlsons for food if we run out,” Parker said.

  “Grab all of them. Let’s see what else we’ve got.” I stepped inside and looked all around the dark, little room. But not one thing started wobbling or whining or glowing. What was happening to me?

  I reached out for a can on a shelf, and what I saw made me drop it. The color of my arm was almost gone. I was turning into a black-and-white sketch.

  Slowly, I walked out to Parker and asked, “Do I look different to you?”

  He shrugged. “You look sad.”

  “I don’t look like I’m losing color?”

  “I told you, I can’t see that kind of thing.”

  I looked at my arm again. It was black and white. Hope was draining out of me. Maybe I’d be black and white forever. “Let’s get our stuff together. We’re leaving in the morning.”

  Lonnie was sweepi
ng the kitchen when we walked in. “Shh, your Grauntie is sleeping.”

  “Already?” I asked.

  “She wakes often during the night. Leaves her tired during the day.”

  I felt bad, knowing we wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Grauntie. We’d have to leave her a note before we left.

  I stood in my room like I was saying goodbye to it, too. But it had never really felt like my room. It was decorated with someone else’s stuff. Grauntie had been the nicest of our relatives, but no great memories would be left here.

  I sorted through my clothes and chose four pairs of pants, three pairs of shorts, and six tops, along with underwear and socks, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. It wouldn’t be enough for winter, but I’d figure something out before then. Maybe we’d head south once fall came.

  I grabbed my Notable People book and the book from Mr. Hanes, along with my family tree. I looked it over for inspiration, and my eyes settled on Chief Joseph. He led members of the Nez Perce tribe in the fight against the US Army. The army wanted the land Chief Joseph’s people lived on because it had gold. War seemed likely, and he wanted to save his people from defeat. So Chief Joseph and his people fled from Oregon to Canada, fighting US soldiers along the way, hoping to meet up with Sitting Bull and live there. He knew something about taking off for a better life. I’m the descendant of a great warrior.

  But then another thought crept in, reminding me of the truth. No, I’m not. I’m the daughter of a killer.

  Besides, they never made it to Canada, and Chief Joseph surrendered. “I will fight no more forever,” he had said.

  Me, too, I thought.

  Not all stories have a happy ending.

  I set my alarm to go off before the sun rose. Lonnie usually woke at seven, so Parker and I had to be gone before then.

  I took a nice, long bath before bed since it would probably be a while before I could do that again. Guess we’d be cleaning up in streams. The thought made me shiver.

  I forced Parker to take one, too, and then we went to bed—though, as usual, I couldn’t sleep. But at some point I must have drifted off because next thing I knew my alarm started buzzing, and I slapped it off before it could wake Grauntie or Lonnie.