Hope Girl (4 page)

Signed,

River

4

I Didn't Realize

T
he next morning Gram knocks on my door. When I don't answer, she yells through the keyhole, “Wake up, Sugar Pie. We've got more adventures today.”

I pull the covers off my head. “Gram, you're hard to understand when your mouth is pressed beneath my doorknob.”

Gram yells through the keyhole again, only louder and slower, “Would you rather I made one of those communication systems out of two tin cans and a string? You'd be surprised how well they work!”

“Gram, just come in, okay?”

“Oh, all right, Sugar Pie. What I was trying to say is that Blue Jay's coming over. In fact, he'll be here any minute.” Gram waddles around my room, picking up dirty clothes and tossing them into my hamper.

“Blue Jay?” I ask.

“Yes, Blue Jay. I figure I can't call him Uncle Jay anymore, and I don't care much for plain old Jay, so I'm calling him Blue Jay.” Gram dusts my dresser with a dirty sock.

“Does he know?”

“Course he does, Sugar Pie. And I'm certain he likes it. I started calling him that yesterday when we did the three-legged race together.”

I pull the sheet back over my head. “Why's he coming so early?”

“Well, with all our newfound information, Blue Jay and I need to inform the sheriff. No one's allowed to steal a child and get away with it. So even though one of the abductors was my own
flesh-and-blood daughter and the other, my hare brained son-in-law, they broke the law and need to pay the consequence.”

I look out from under my sheet and ask, “So do I have to go too since I was the one stolen?”

“No sirree. Me and Blue Jay got this under control.” She shakes my sock out the window. “Besides, Elizabeth needs your help making strawberry freezer jam this morning.”

Even though I'm afraid to hear the answer, I ask. “Will the sheriff put you in jail?”

Gram cocks her head. “Now, why on earth would he put me in jail?”

“Well, don't people get in trouble for raising an abductor?”

“Where, pray tell, did you come up with that? Well, never mind,” she says, “but no, I'm not getting in trouble for something I didn't do.

When Gram and Dad leave for the sheriff's office, I head to the Whippoorwills'. Mrs. Whippoorwill answers the door, holding Forrest on her hip. “Good morning, River. Come right in.” She places a kiss on my head. “River,” she says, “you don't need to knock—we've always considered you family.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Whippoorwill.” Forrest reaches for me, so I take him and give him a hug.

Mrs. Whippoorwill puts her hand on my shoulder. “You know, River, you can call me Aunt Elizabeth, but if you're more comfortable with Mrs. Whippoorwill, that's fine too.”

My mouth drops open.

“Oh, River,” she says, “you didn't realize?”

I shake my head.

She puts her hand on the side of my face and says, “Since Jay's your father, that makes Henry and me your aunt and uncle.”

“And the little Whippoorwills?”

“Your cousins,” she says. “Even Billy.”

It doesn't even take a second for this to sink into one of the most incredible feelings I've ever had. I toss Forrest in the air. “How do you like that, Forrest? We're cousins!”

Aunt Elizabeth laughs while I jump up and down with Forrest.

“Well,” she says, “let's head to the garden and see how many berries the rest of your cousins have picked. Then we'll start making jam.”

By the time the jam's made and in the jars, the little Whippoorwills are covered with sticky strawberry juice. Aunt Elizabeth grabs a bar of soap, then turns to me and says, “Let's take these sticky rascals outside and hose them down.”

We head outside for a sudsy water war, squirting each other with ice-cold water, laughing and shivering until we're covered with purple goose bumps. Then we snuggle together on beach towels and dry toasty-warm in the sun like cousins do.

Later when it's time to go, I give my aunt a hug. “Aunt Elizabeth,” I say, “you know I can't wait to see my mom, right?”

She looks at me with a fake smile. “I can just imagine, River.”

“Don't you think she'll be excited to see me?”

Aunt Elizabeth doesn't look me in the eyes but says, “I know I would be.” Then she hands me the bag with Gram's special pitcher. “Thanks for helping, River. I wrapped your grandmother's pitcher in her towels and tucked three jars of jam inside. Let them set on the counter overnight. In the morning put them in the freezer. And please thank your grandmother for me.”

As I walk out the door, I say, “She's not my real grandmother.”

5

All My Fault

A
s soon as I reach our driveway, Gram hollers from the backyard, “How was making that strawberry jam?”

But when I realize what she's doing, I'm so angry that I yell, “What do you think you're doing?”

Gram looks shocked. “Why, I'm hanging your bed sheets, Sugar Pie.”

“I told you I'd change them!”

“Well,” Gram sputters, “I was just doing unto another as I'd have another do unto me.”

“But I told you not to do them!” I run inside, set Gram's bag on the counter, then run to my room. I lift my mattress, relieved to see my diary exactly where I left it.

I pull it out and start writing about how angry I am, when all of a sudden I hear a crash in the kitchen. “Gram?” But when there's no answer, I run to see what happened. Once I'm there, it's quiet. I look around. The jars of jam are lined up on the counter, and beside them is Gram's stack of towels. But she's nowhere. Then I walk around the counter where Gram's lying on the floor by the stool, and her special glass pitcher is shattered in a million pieces. I grab the towels, push away the glass, then kneel beside her. “Gram? Can you hear me?” She doesn't answer. I grab a cold cloth and put it on her head. “Come on, Gram, open your eyes.”

Just then there's a knock at the door. “Anyone home?”

I know his voice. “Hurry, Dad! Gram's hurt!”

Dad rushes over. He puts his fingers on the side of Gram's neck. “Her pulse is weak. There's no time to wait for an ambulance.”

“I'll back Tilly up to the door.” But when I see Dad's confused look, I realize he doesn't know who Tilly is. “Tilly is Gram's truck. I'll back her up so you won't have to carry Gram so far.”

Now he seems more confused. “You drive?”

“I have before.” I grab the keys, back Tilly up to the door, and then open her tailgate. Once Dad sets Gram in, I climb in beside her and place her head on my lap. I stroke her silver hair. “You'll be okay, Gram.” Why was I so mean to her? If I wasn't, none of this would've happened. Guilt sticks in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

Dad speeds to the hospital and then turns in to the emergency department. Nurses rush to help. As they lift Gram on the stretcher, she opens her eyes long enough to say, “Don't you worry, Sugar Pie. Now that you've got your dad, everything's gonna be all right.”

They push Gram through the door and down the hall until she's out of sight.

I sit in the waiting room with Dad, feeling guilty.

Two seconds later Uncle Henry rushes through the door. “River, what happened?”

I tell him about Gram's special pitcher and how she should have known better than to stand on the stool. I even tell him how mad I was at her, so he's probably figured out that's why she didn't ask me to put her pitcher away for her. “I'm sorry,” I tell him. “It's my fault she fell.”

Uncle Henry looks at me. “River, you can't take responsibility. Sometimes things happen that we have no control over. God's in control, not you. Understand?”

Before I can answer, the waiting room door opens, and a doctor walks in. “I'm Dr. Wing,” he says. After Dad, me, and Uncle Henry introduce ourselves, Dr. Wing tells us about Gram. “Her X-rays show extensive fractures in her left hip and arm. She'll need surgery to stabilize both areas.”

“So she'll gets two casts and then come home, right?” I ask.

Dr. Wing fiddles with his pen. “It's not just broken bones, River. Your grandmother also has a head injury—a serious concussion. When she fell off the stool, she must have hit her head on the counter before landing on the floor. That's why she's unconscious.”

“But when we got here,” I explain, “she opened her eyes and even talked.”

Dr. Wing puts his hand on my shoulder. “She's in and out of consciousness, which is a good sign. I expect she'll do all right. It'll just take time.”

“How much?” asks Dad.

Dr. Wing places his pen in his pocket. “I expect one week in the hospital, then two or three months in rehabilitation. But it's difficult to predict.” Dr. Wing checks his watch. “I'm performing her surgery in ten minutes, so I need to excuse myself.” He takes my hand. “I'll do everything I can.” Then he turns to Dad and Pastor Henry. “The surgery will take several hours, so you might as well wait at home where you're comfortable. I'll call when it's done.”