Hope Girl (15 page)

This month may you enjoy the sweet fragrance of the lily of the valley, discover the return of happiness, and know, like me, your life is complete.

I hold her column close to my heart. “See, Mom? We were complete. You just need to remember.”

I find a pen and piece of paper.

Dear Mom,

I'm so glad I met you. I'm sorry you don't remember me, but I know you will. It must be hard for you. I'll pray every day that God helps you remember.

Dad gave me one of your old garden bench columns. It's from May of 1971. You wrote about the lily of the valley. Do you remember? You said your life was complete—with you, Dad, and me. I was eight months old then.

Mom, please remember the lily of the valley and what it means. I want to know you more than anything. You already
remembered something special about Dad, so I know you'll remember everything else too.

Love your daughter,

River

I write Mom's address on the envelope and grab twenty cents for a stamp. It won't be long 'til we're complete again—Dad, Mom, and me.

I stop by the post office on my way to the studio.

Dad's on a ladder painting. “There you are,” he says. “Ready to paint?”

I look at the color he picked and scrunch my nose.

“What's the matter?” he asks.

“I would've picked a more cheerful color. Don't you want people smiling when you take their picture?”

Dad laughs. “Maybe you'll need to make them smile.”

“Come on, Dad. Why didn't you pick a happy color like yellow? Anything would be better than gray.”

“Tell you what,” he says, “since I picked the studio color, you pick for the office and kitchen. And by the way, gray's a fantastic color for the studio—it has to do with the lighting.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.” He shows me how to use the paint roller. It's easy. Dip the roller in paint, then move it up and down along the wall. And since the studio's small, we finish before noon.

Dad takes me to Chick-a-Dee's Diner again for lunch. He dips the last onion ring in ketchup. “I haven't had a chance to ask,” he says, “what do you think of Carlos?”

“He's real nice,” I say, then suck the last bit of chocolate shake through my straw (not realizing the noise 'til Dad looks at me with raised eyebrows). “And he knows a lot about butterflies.”

Dad laughs. “Butterfly knowledge is a plus.” He fiddles with his napkin. “Sounds like he's been through a lot.”

“He actually hasn't said anything, but Rosa told me a little.”

Dad picks the bill up off our table. “I'm sure he'll share more when he's ready.”

Talking about Carlos gives me an idea. “Dad, do you think he'd like to paint with us?”

“You know, Rosa mentioned he's been bored and hasn't made many friends, so maybe he would.”

“Can we ask?”

Dad checks his watch. “Rosa's working, but we could swing by their place on the way to buy paint.”

“How do you know where they live?”

I could be wrong, but Dad looks almost embarrassed. “Oh,” he says, “I stopped over once to help move their refrigerator.”

That's strange, since Gram and I moved our refrigerator alone before. But Carlos probably can't move big things like refrigerators, so I guess it makes sense.

Dad pays our bill and we leave.

20

A Butterfly in the House

D
ad drives down Main Street, then turns right after getting off Meadowlark Bridge. In a few seconds, he pulls in to the parking lot of Shearwater Apartments (they're on the other side of Meadowlark River, opposite Gram's house). I was expecting a house.

I follow Dad to apartment number eleven, where he knocks.

The door opens, and there's Carlos wearing a pair of blue gym shorts, holding a book in his hand. “Wow,” he says, “what a surprise.” He opens the door all the way. “Come in and have a seat. I'll be back—just going to throw on a shirt.”

“Tell you what,” Dad says, “before you do, River can explain why we're here.”

I force myself to look at Carlos's eyes (and not his legs, feet, stomach, and chest, which are covered in just as many scars as his face and hands that I saw yesterday). “We're painting Dad's photography studio and wondered if you'd like to help.”

“Sure,” he says. “I helped paint our scout lodge once.”

“Great,” Dad says. “Then put on something you won't mind getting dirty.”

Carlos smiles. “Good idea, plus I'll call my mom to let her know.” He sets his book on the living room table, face down. “Make yourself at home,” he says. “I'll be right back.”

Dad and I sit on the couch. He picks up a magazine, and I take a peek at the back of Carlos's book, hoping he doesn't come back and catch me.
Abel's Island
by William Steig. There's a picture of a mouse, who I assume is Abel. Why is Carlos reading about a mouse?
Just then I hear Carlos close a door, and he's back in the living room. I put his book back just in time.

On the way to the studio, we stop to buy paint. Because of Carlos, Dad and I walk slowly. Store workers and shoppers watch us walk in, but I don't think much of it. For some reason, it seems like everyone's staring.

Dad leads us to the paint section. “Okay, River, choose your colors.” Then he tells Carlos, “River wants happy paint. She says the gray I picked for the studio is so sad that no one will smile.”

I punch Dad's arm. “Come on, stop picking on me.”

“Maybe I can help,” Carlos says and then turns to look at the color samples on the wall.

A sales person comes over to us. “May I help you?”

Dad continues picking on me. “Yes,” he says. “My daughter wants to purchase two gallons of happy paint.”

The salesperson smiles. “Happy paint? Well, let me see if I can be of assistance.”

Just then Carlos turns around. “I think I found one,” he says, handing me a color sample.

The salesperson's face turns white. “Well,” he says, “looks like you're all set.” He puts his hand over his mouth and walks away.

I turn to Dad and Carlos. “What was that about?”

“It's me,” says Carlos. “Most people don't know how to react when they see me.”

Dad's eyebrows touch each other. “You guys stay here. I'm finding the manager.”

Carlos puts his hand on Dad's shoulder. “Don't,” he says. “Trying to address it makes it more awkward for everyone.” He holds the color sample up and smiles. “ ‘Shades of Blue' for the Meadowlark River. What do you think?”

I smile back. “Perfect for the study.” Then I hold up a color sample. “And how about ‘Sunny Rays of Hope' for the kitchen?”

Dad nods. “Perfect.”

The three of us finish Dad's study in no time. It's a beautiful shade of river blue. The kitchen takes longer since there are cupboards, doors, and more windows to paint around. It's hard for Carlos to reach high or low, so he paints the middle. Dad paints the top, and I get the bottom.

While I paint around the door, I notice something silver sticking out from under the molding. I try pulling it, but it's stuck. It looks like a piece of jewelry. I try prying it out with a fork.

Carlos sees me and asks, “What are you doing?”

“I found something—maybe jewelry. I'm trying to get it out.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Don't give up. It might be something special.”

I try again, and it comes free. I rub it on my shirt, wiping off the dust.

Carlos comes over. “What did you find?”

“A butterfly charm.” I hold it up for him, then tuck it deep in my pocket.

“You know what that means, don't you?”

I shake my head.

“A butterfly in the house is a sign of a wedding.”

Now everything makes sense. I was meant to find the butterfly—it's a sign. It won't be long before my dad and mom are married again. Everything will be like it was meant to be.

Dad must have heard. “A wedding? We'll have to see.”

Just then the front door opens. It's Rosa. “Hello! Anyone home?”

Dad calls back, “Come in. I wondered if you'd stop by.” Then he looks at me and quickly adds, “Since Carlos is here and all.”

Rosa steps into the kitchen. “Wow, love the color. Warm, sunny, makes me smile.”

“See, Dad? Rosa's already smiling. Maybe we should paint over your sad gray.”

Dad shakes his head and laughs. “It's not about warm, fuzzy feelings, River. It's about the reflection factor. If the color of the studio didn't matter, I'd let you paint rainbows. But it's staying gray.”

“Okay, Dad, I got it.”

Rosa smiles. “I stopped by to see if the painters are hungry.” She turns to my dad. “I thought you and River might like to join us for dinner. You could finish up while I run home and throw a meal together.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Dad turns to me. “What do you think, River?”