My Name Is River (21 page)

I sit on the log, which is all soft and covered with moss, and take a deep breath in. I look across the birding place. The grass is still matted down where everyone stood for Billy's service. This is actually the first time I've been here alone. It's so peaceful. The birds are singing, and there are butterflies everywhere. There's even a chipmunk under the feeder, stuffing dropped seeds into his cheeks. No wonder Mrs. Bunting likes coming here. I just hope she doesn't come today. I need to be alone.

I open my diary and take out Billy's letter. Then it hits me. If this was in his pocket when he died, he must have planned on giving it to me after school that day. That's why he wanted me to go to the birding place with him. Why did I promise Gram I'd go to physical therapy with her? She would have been fine without me. And if I'd said yes to Billy, he'd still be here with me.

I close my eyes and try to swallow the lump in my throat. “I'm so sorry, Billy. I should have gone with you. I should have been there to save you.” But then I remember what Pastor Henry said: “Who by worrying can add a single moment to your life?… therefore, don't worry.”

“God,” I whisper, “please help me be strong.” I wipe my eyes and unfold the letter. When I see his handwriting, I can't help but smile. It's a good thing I finally learned to read chicken scratch.

Dear River:

Since God knows everything, I figured
he'd be able to help us come up with something you can tell people when they ask about your name. And I don't think I ever told you, but I think your name is awesome, just like you are. Anyway, last night I prayed and asked God to help me find a special Bible verse, thinking it might lead us somewhere. And you won't believe this, but right after I prayed, I opened my Bible to John 7:38. I could hardly believe what I read: Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.' ”

Isn't that amazing? The word river is right in it! And since you believe in God, that means you have rivers of living water flowing from your heart. But don't worry. He's not talking about a real river. He's talking about his Spirit. Jesus used “rivers of living water” as a symbol for his Spirit. So just think … you,
River Starling, have God's Spirit flowing from your heart.

And then I thought, since God is your heavenly Father, you could even say your father named you, and, technically, I don't think that would be considered a lie, but we could ask my dad just to make sure.

If you like this idea, you could practice saying it so the next time someone asks about your name, you can tell them. And it'll probably feel like you've known it all your life. But if you don't like it, that's okay. We'll think of something else.

Your friend,

Billy

I whisper out loud, “I like it, Billy. I like it very much.” Then I write it in my diary.

John 7:38. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”

I write it over and over until I have it memorized.

I imagine Billy sitting on the log beside me. I pretend we're meeting each other for the first time. He tells me his name is Billy, and then he asks what mine is. He tells me he's glad I came to see the new birding place, and then he asks why my name is River. I tell him my father named me after a Bible verse where Jesus says, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.' ” And then, if Billy wonders what that means, I'll do exactly what Pastor Henry does. I'll tell him all about God, and how he can be sure he'll go to heaven. I'll tell him how great it is to have a heavenly Father who loves you more than anyone ever has or ever could—even enough to die for you.

I lean back, press my hands against the soft, cool moss, and look up at the sky. It's a hopeful kind of blue, like a robin's egg, and it's filled with white cotton clouds drifting all about. I try seeing beyond them, and wonder if that's where heaven begins.

28

Uncle Jay's Picture

M
y alarm clock moans like a sad cow. I hit it so hard it falls off my nightstand. I roll over, wanting to go back to sleep, but my calendar's staring me in the face. It's July third—exactly eighteen days since Billy died. But at least it's a Sunday, and I'll see the Whippoorwills.

I throw on a skirt and try brushing my hair (but some things are just impossible). Gram's already banging around the kitchen, and the smell of burnt toast has drifted all the way to my room. I follow it down the hall.

Gram's waving her dishrag to clear the smoke. “Morning, Sugar Pie.”

“Good morning, Gram.” I sit at the table and stare at the square black thing sitting on my plate.

“Sorry about the toast, Sugar Pie. That blasted toaster's on its last leg. Just go ahead and scrape off the black. It'll be okay.”

Gram waves her dishrag a few more times and then grabs the Sunday paper. “Well, I'll be jiggered!” she shouts and then waddles over to my side of the table. She pokes the headlines with her finger and says, “Would you look at this, Sugar Pie? Killdeer Boy Guilty!” Gram presses the paper flat and continues.

Robert Killdeer, age thirteen, of Birdsong, West Virginia, pleads guilty to the untimely death of William Whippoorwill, age twelve. Both boys attended
Birdsong Middle School. William and his friend, River Starling, had been working on a school project at the Meadowlark River, where they built a birding place for their community. On the evening of June 15th, William was found there, where he had fallen over the cliff along the river. William was pronounced dead at the scene.

After Sheriff Peterson's in-depth investigation, Robert Killdeer confessed. He said he and William were standing at the edge of the river when they began to argue. He said he was angry and pushed William but never meant for him to fall over the edge and die. When Robert was asked what they had been arguing about, he said he couldn't remember. William's mother, Elizabeth Whippoorwill, commented, “William will always be alive in our hearts, and we miss him more than words can express… It's only because of God that we live with hope. We know we'll see him again.” When William's father, Pastor Henry Whippoorwill, was asked how he felt toward the convicted, he said, “God knows the hearts of all people, and regardless of the good or bad we've done, he loves us. I can only pray Robert will get the help he needs and that he's able to become the young person God intended.”

Robert is being held in a locked facility for wayward boys where he will receive psychological testing and rehabilitation. No release date has been set at this time.

Gram looks at me like I should jump up and down with excitement. “That's great, Gram, but it doesn't bring Billy back. Nothing can.” She rubs my head and tries combing her fingers through my hair.

Gram rolls the paper into a log and holds it up. “You think Pastor Henry has seen this?”

“I doubt it. The Whippoorwills are real busy on Sunday mornings.”

“Well, let's save them a bit of time. Instead of having them pick us up here this morning, we'll go there. Besides, I think I hear the wind calling us that way. Let's go, Sugar Pie.”

I set our dishes in the sink, and Gram wipes the crumbs off the table and onto the floor. She tucks the Sunday paper under her arm and bursts out the screen door. I follow in her tailwind.

We reach the end of our driveway and turn toward the Whippoorwill's when Gram breaks into a jog. “What are you doing, Gram? Did you forget you've got your heels on?” Gram skids to a stop, takes off her shoes, and tucks them under the paper. She starts jogging again. Her stockings will be in shreds by the time we get there.

As we reach the front steps, the warm smell of cinnamon rolls wraps around me like a hug and makes me think of Uncle Jay.

Gram bangs on the door. Pastor Henry greets us and says, “What a nice surprise! And perfect timing. Elizabeth just pulled cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Come on in.”

We walk in, and I can't believe my eyes. Uncle Jay is sitting at the table. But not for long because he jumps up, runs over, and scoops me into a big bear hug. “It's good to see you, River.”

“It's good to see you too, Uncle Jay.” And for some reason, my eyes feel warm, and I have to wipe them. “I didn't expect to see you this morning,” I say.

“No one did. It wasn't until last night that I decided to surprise everyone. I threw a few things in my bag, jumped into my car, and got here just a few minutes ago—just in time for cinnamon rolls.”

Mrs. Whippoorwill smiles and pulls out chairs for me and
Gram. “Sit down and help yourself. There's more than enough for everyone.”

I sit between Uncle Jay and little Forrest, who reaches out and touches me with sticky fingers. He smiles and pats my arm. “Riber,” he says.

Gram takes a bite of her cinnamon roll and holds up the Sunday paper for Pastor Henry to see. “I brought this in case you hadn't seen it yet.”

Pastor Henry answers, “That was thoughtful, Mrs. Nuthatch, but we actually had a visit from Sheriff Peterson last night. He told us about Robert confessing. And you can bet that news changed my sermon this morning. I'll be sharing about forgiveness instead of Moses.”

Gram looks confused. “Forgiveness? As in forgiving that Killdeer boy?”

Pastor Henry nods. “It's probably not what you expected, but that is what I mean. It might be hard to imagine, but in God's eyes, Robert is no different than any one of us. We're all imperfect. We all make mistakes. I believe God wants us to reach out to Robert and show him the kind of love that God shows us. We need to show Robert what forgiveness is, even if we don't feel like it. I've been learning that forgiveness isn't a choice, and it's not a feeling either… It's a command.”

Gram takes a bite of her cinnamon roll, swallows, and says, “Humph.”

Pastor Henry reaches out and squeezes Gram's shoulder. “We'll talk more about it at church.”

Uncle Jay looks at Gram. “You know, Mrs. Nuthatch, Billy said you were interested in seeing a picture of mine—the one I carry in my wallet. I can't imagine why you'd want to see it. It's pretty beat up after all those years, but, nonetheless, if you're still interested, I've got it right here.”

Gram sets her coffee mug down. “I'd like to have a look cuz there's something puzzling going on, and I think I hear the rustle of the wind.”

Uncle Jay takes the picture from his wallet. As he hands it my way to give to Gram, I take a look. “Wow, Uncle Jay,” I say. “This was your wife?”

He nods.

“She's so beautiful,” I tell him. “And this was your baby?”

He nods again.

“That's strange,” I say. “Your baby looks just like a picture Gram has of me when I was little. We have on the same yellow checkered dress and the same necklace with a dangling heart charm. We both have brown curly hair… and the same crooked little smile.”

Gram peeks over my shoulder to see the picture. “She's right. The picture I have was taken the day my daughter ‘adopted' River. And your picture was taken the day your daughter went missing.”

Uncle Jay shakes his head like he's confused. Then he looks at me. “That means—”

Gram doesn't give him a chance to finish. “That means Sheriff Peterson's got two more criminals to catch—my daughter and that knuckleheaded husband of hers.”

All of a sudden, everything turns blurry, and my head feels lighter than a helium balloon. Then the next thing I know, I'm lying on the couch, and Uncle Jay's beside me holding a cold cloth across my forehead. He smiles and says, “You're all right, River. You just fainted.”

I look at him and smile.

“Do you know what this means?” he says. “It means I'm your father. And because you were friends with Billy, I finally found you.” He wraps his arms around me.

I hug him back. “I knew my dad would find me. I just didn't know he would be you.”