Signed, Skye Harper (15 page)

“Two were killed in their rooms.”

Murmurs grew. “Hush,” someone said.

“Nine were killed at the airport.”

“Mark Spitz,” I said.

“They are all gone,” the news anchor said.
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131

But

But.

He was safe.

Snuck away so no one else would die.
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132

Heavy

I walked into the bathroom at the buffet, locked myself in a stall, and cried.

Cried until I saw Momma’s feet under the stall door. Her toenails were frosty pink.

“Winston,” she said. “Mommy told me about your swimming. And about your hero. Come on out, honey, and let me hug you.”

I sat there, staring at her feet, a wad of toilet paper in both my hands.

“I got to tell you something, Winston. Open up.”

At long last, I did. A crack, a sliver. Momma’s eye was there in a second, looking at me looking back at her.

“You know what?” she whispered. “There’s a pool right down the road from my place. Let’s go skinny-dipping tonight. What do you think?”

I pushed the door open all the way and stepped out. “I prefer to swim in my bathing suit, if it’s available.”

“Got it,” Momma said, then she wrapped her arms around me in an awkward hug, where I cried till I was all cried out.
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133

Family

Vegas cooled off when the sun sunk so low there wasn’t even a hint of heat left. How could that be? More than a hundred degrees, and now the weather felt like sitting in the motor home, running the AC on high.

My legs wobbled under me.

The night sky was dark as a hole. The light around us too bright. I walked slow, back and forth in front of a doorman.

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

Steve watched me, leaning against a pillar.

“He’s okay. But the rest . . .”

Steve’s arms were folded.

“Their families . . .”

I walked quick to Steve. He never budged, even though I stepped on his shoes. “I know what you’re thinking. That I need to think of this as a lesson. That we don’t know how long we have with the people we
should
love. That I get my mother back and you might not and I am lucky.” A breeze cool as water swept past.

He rested his hands on my hip bones. “What I was thinking, is how sexy you are.”

“Shut up,” I said. But grinned, though sorrow sat heavy over my ribs.
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134

Just the Two of Us

Momma and Nanny walked with Thelma and Denny. Steve and I followed. The city stayed alive, though it seemed more drunk people were on the road, wandering, hollering.

“I got to get to bed, Judith Lee,” Nanny said. “Skye. I mean, Skye.”

Momma smiled all soft-like. “Thank you for trying, Mommy. Me and Winston, we have us a late-night rendezvous. Do you care if she spends the night with me? If that’s okay, we’ll take the four of you on back to that house on wheels and she can grab her things. How does that sound?”

Nanny glanced at me and I gave her a bit of a nod. I wasn’t expecting a sleepover, but . . . when I glanced at Steve and he looked so hard into my eyes, I felt my insides go mushy.

“Sounds good. I need to rest up.” Nanny’s voice came out low and so un-Nanny-like. So . . . what? . . . content? Not that she hadn’t been content in New Smyrna, but there was always an edge to her there. Maybe being separated from a daughter you knew was worse than not having a momma you didn’t know.

“Steve, you can come with me and Winston next time we go swimming.”
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“Yes, ma’am.”

“This time”—Momma swung Nanny’s hand—“is for us two.” She looked at me over her shoulder.

We were to the motor home now. Nanny unlocked everything, and I went in to get my swimsuit. I slipped it on in a bathroom that seemed too small after the wide open feeling that being free from the motor home a few hours gave me.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Terrible things had happened today.

There was good news, too. Sure.

But that awful stuff. Those awful moments. Those families changed, forever.

And now, now I was going to go swimming with my momma.

My family.

My heart picked up a beat, and I hurried on out to where Momma waited.
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135

Rogue

“We squeeze through here. Me and Ryan—I met him a coupla weeks ago; he works on stage crew—we’ve come here a few times.”

I pushed through the gate.

“Now we have to be quiet,” Momma said. “They close the place down at one.”

This was exciting. Wait! What was going on with me? I stopped, hesitated. Stealing, kidnapping, and now trespassing. Okay, I was a seasoned trespasser. Still, was I turning into a hardened criminal who enjoyed her illegal life, running from one hazardous adventure to another?

I shrugged. This wasn’t as bad as the other crimes. Trespassing in Vegas was something to be added to my rap sheet. “Can we get in trouble?”

Momma shook her head. “No one’s ever gonna know.”
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136

More Night Swimming

The water was soft as silk, and one thing became clear to me. I did not get my fishlike swimming abilities from my momma. All Momma did was sit in the shallow end on the steps or dog-paddle.

Still, I loved it. I loved being with her and hearing her whisper, that soft voice floating on top of the pool water, telling me what a great swimmer I was and how she was sure, sure, Mark Spitz woulda been proud of me.

And that she was too.

Proud. Of me.
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137

The Jitters

When we walked home, leaving wet footprints on the still-warm Vegas sidewalks, Momma bumped me with her shoulder. “You a bed hog?” she said.

“Maybe. It’s hard to say. The only person I ever share a bed with is Thelma. And she’s the one hogging all the room. I sleep on the edge when she’s sharing with me.” Too many words came out because I was nervous.

Nervous!

Who ever thought of someone being nervous with their own mother?

The moon was bigger and brighter than any I had ever seen. And white, white, white.

“I guess we’ll have to see,” Momma said. “We’re about to my place. Shoot, swimming sure does make a girl need to get her beauty sleep, doesn’t it?”

I looked at Momma to see if she was serious. She seemed to be.

“It does,” I said. “Though after a long day in the ocean I sometimes feel like my bed is a series of waves, rocking me to sleep.”

Momma let out a big ol’ sigh. “I miss New Smyrna
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Beach. Miss the sand and the crash of the waves, real waves, and that oceany smell that water has.”

I crossed my fingers, something I hadn’t done in years. “When we get back home, maybe you and me can go swimming there.” I said the words so slow maybe Momma didn’t even remember what the last word I spoke was. I was surprised sounds even came out of my mouth. I hadn’t known I would say it.

Momma looked at me. “I’d like that,” she said.

And the strangest thing was, I knew I’d like it too.
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138

Settling In

I rinsed off while Momma pulled out the sofa bed and made it up.

“Me and Amber Dawn take turns getting the real bed. Two weeks at a time,” Momma said when I came in from the bathroom. She was propped up, reading, one of the sofa cushions supporting her.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the thick book.

“East of Eden,”
she said. “You might like this one. It’s all about family heartbreak.” Momma set it on the coffee table, then flipped off the light.

I stood stone still. Did she know? Did she know Nanny’s heartbreak?

“Remember when I used to read to you?” Momma said, her voice right-away sleepy.

I nodded though she couldn’t see me, and climbed into bed, slipping as close to the edge as I could. “I do remember.”

“Winston,” she said when we had both settled down. “Look it. I know I did a bad thing leaving you. And I want you to know I ain’t planning on being your momma when I get back home with you and Nanny. I want to be your friend. That’s all. You okay with that?”

I swallowed at sudden tears. “I am,” I said.
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139

Dream

There was a gunshot loud as glass exploding.

“I seen you with that boy
and
with your mother.” Mark Spitz had a thick southern accent, like he was born and bred in Louisiana. He carried a shotgun and aimed at ducks that seemed to come from nowhere.

“I like your hat,” I said. “It looks good on you.” That was a lie. Mark wore a huge pink sun hat. One a woman would wear to New Smyrna Beach.

“You best keep swimming alone,” he said. “They are all gone.”

“What?”

But he had slipped away.
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140

Talk

Momma and me had breakfast at Denny’s. Denny’s the restaurant, not Denny’s the rooster. Then we hoofed it back to the motor home, where Nanny and Steve played cards.

“Getting ready to go on the floor and play a few hands,” Steve said. He looked so pretty I wanted to reach over and sniff his neck. “Come sit by me, Churchill,” he said, and patted the seat next to him.

“Thelma’s there,” I said.

Thelma looked up at me and showed me her teeth.

I bent near her. “I love you,” I said, stroking her head, “even if you have betrayed me.” I expected Thelma to show Steve which card to play next, but she leaned against his arm and sighed.

Nanny gave me a look, and I went over to kiss her cheek. “It was fun,” I said.

Nanny seemed like she might bust wide open she was so happy. “That’s terrific, Winston.”

“Mommy,” Momma said. She wore crisp white shorts, and her legs were tan and long when she sat on the sofa. “I saw our girl swim last night and she is fine.”
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“She is,” Steve said, and he and Nanny folded up their cards and packed them away.

I grinned. Two great compliments.

“Olympic material,” Momma said.

Nanny tsked. “What is the world coming to?” she said. “The whole of Germany is in an uproar. But the Americans are all safe.”

“Thank goodness,” I said, and I meant it with all my heart.

“She should have swimming lessons,” Momma said. “With someone who can really help her improve.”

Nanny nodded. “Costs money.”

“I know it,” Momma said. Then she went quiet.

“Hey,” I said, “swimming in the ocean’s the best training for me there is.”

Momma eyed me.

“If I get past the breakers, I work against the tide.”

There was an awkward silence, and then Nanny said, “Let’s go sightsee then get you packed up, Ju—Skye.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

So we got.
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141

Packing

Let me say this, you can look at only so many building fronts before you start getting bored.

And let me say this, too.

Momma has a lot of stuff.

A. Lot.
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142

A Break

“I got to get me some air,” Steve said, when Momma started on her tenth box to be packed up.

Nanny was saying, “Really, honey? That, too? Where you going to wear
that
in Florida? At Leon’s?”

And Momma was looking at Nanny with these wide eyes that seemed to say,
I haven’t given it much thought.

There was still so much work to be done.

“I got to get some real air,” Steve said again. “Let’s go swimming, Churchill.”

“Huh?” I stared at Steve. He looked a little wilted.

Nanny on the other hand, was in her element, lifting, folding, organizing.

Momma sat back on her heels, head tilted, like she was seeing the world in a whole new way.

“Swimming?” I said, “In the middle of the day? Where?”

Steve stood. “
Any
where,” he said.

Standing, I looked to Momma and Nanny. This feeling, this huge
I want to be a family, a whole family
came over me. For a second I couldn’t move. Then Steve laced his fingers through mine.

“Momma,” I said, as I walked to the door of her little
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apartment. My voice was a whisper. All those families missing someone they would never get back.

She looked at me. How could she pack wearing high-heel shoes? Tears blocked my throat. I cleared my throat and said, “I’m glad you’re coming home with us. I’ve missed you something awful.”
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143

What I Didn’t Know

I Had Even Been Missing

That hug? That was the best hug I have ever gotten from my momma. Including when I was little.
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144

In My Element

Outside, the sun wanted to fry my retinas.

Steve pulled me close and we bumped sides. “We can go to any ol’ pool,” he said. “As long as there are people there, no one will know if we’re staying at that hotel or not.”

And so we did.

And I swam, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, thinking about my new family, and possibility sat like an anchor in my chest.
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145

Jewelry

Momma worked that night, and me and Nanny and Steve and Denny and Thelma all tried to get her boxes stored in the motor home.

“We could pull a U-Haul trailer,” I said, “like she did.”

Nanny looked like someone had dipped her in boiling water. “I don’t think so. Add an extra fifteen feet to this motor home and who knows what ditch we’ll end up in.”

“There will be lots of people to drive,” I said.

“Your momma won’t be able to make it to the highway without complaining,” Nanny said.

“What?” I blinked. “Are you sure? She drove from Florida to California and then from California to here.”