Any time Taylor saw Mr. Verdun on television, she always searched the crowd for Tad. She knew his family was active in trying to save the environment, and she thought she might glimpse him. She never did.
But she would never forget him. Not ever. Sometimes when she was in her grandmother’s garden, she got this strange feeling.…Taylor laid down the tulips so she could pull up her hood. And that’s when she saw the small toad right by her left shoe.
She studied the little guy, paying attention to the pattern of his warts and the size of his eyes. He looked like the toad she had brought back from Reno and turned loose in her grandmother’s garden.
Her grandmother called from the deck. Taylor turned and saw Eve pointing to the pond. Taylor stood up to look. A family of ducks was making a pattern of rippling V-shapes. Each spring, the pond seemed a little smaller to Taylor, but no less magical. Most years, a groundhog paraded her babies for Eve and Taylor to admire. Every April, Eve and Taylor planted seeds with names like nasturtium and chocolate morning glory. And always, she was on the lookout for her special toad.
A gust of wind caught Taylor’s hood, and the breeze brought her back to reality. She still had so many things to do.
“It’s time to go,” she told Kia.
She moved carefully away, trying not to disturb the little toad or the earth around him.
Acknowledgments
To my good friend Carol Gorman for having long every-other-Saturday phone calls in the early days of the story.
To my writers’ group (Jan Blazanin, Eileen Boggess, and Rebecca Janni) for reading version after version of the manuscript.
To my agent, Susan Cohen, for finding a good home for The Hop.
To my editor, Abby Ranger, for knowing where the story needed to go and guiding me there.
To my granddaughter Lizzie for helping me see small things in the garden.
The Hop Page 13
