Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(34)
“I’m not going to leave you alone here when there’s no reason for it.”
“Sure there is. I stay here alone all the time. And I have homework to do.”
“I thought you said you did it before dinner.”
Oops. She did say that . . . but it wasn’t true.
“I should study my math.”
“Math. That’s right—I’ll help you,”he says firmly, opening the car door and swinging out his legs. “You’ve got to get those grades up. We’re going to work until you have a firm grasp on calculus.”
“That’s going to take all night.”
“Not a problem. I happen to have all night.”
It’s no use protesting, Calla realizes, following her father into the house.
Gert is there, waiting by the front door. Miriam is there, too, sitting quietly in the living room, stitching on an embroidery hoop.
She looks up briefly when Calla and her father enter, then goes back to her needlework.
She’s seen a lot, over the years. Family dramas playing themselves out within the walls of her beloved home; various residents coming and going: Aunt Katie and Jack Lauder and . . .
Mom.
Miriam must have known about the baby.
But she probably isn’t going to reveal any of the details to Calla.
I have to ask Gammy about it.
And she will. Next chance she gets.
“I was thinking,”Dad interrupts her thoughts, “that it would be nice for the two of us to go look at a couple of colleges this weekend.”
“Really?”
He nods. “What do you say?”
“Which schools?”
“Penn State. Cornell. Maybe Colgate.”
Cornell.
Kevin is there.
When they were in Florida, she overheard him telling Dad that he’d show them around campus if they came to visit.
“I don’t know,”she says. “Maybe we shouldn’t do that this weekend.”
That would mean she’d have to miss her Beginning Medi-umship class two weeks in a row. She really can’t afford to do that. She needs all the tune-in/tune-out help she can get.
“Calla, you have some decisions to make about where you’re going next year. By now, your mother would have had you filling out applications for early decision. I really dropped the ball. We’ve got to go look at some campuses and figure out where you want to go.”
“But—”
“We can’t put it off any longer. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. We’re taking a road trip this weekend. I’ll pick you up at school on Friday and we’ll get right on the road. Got it?”
She sighs. “Got it.”
She was right about having him here. Her life is no longer her own.
THIRTEEN
Lily Dale
Thursday, October 11
2:10 a.m.
Calla is on an airplane, soaring high above an urban skyline.
“Those of you folks who are seated on the left-hand side of the plane will recognize Lady Liberty there in the harbor,”the pilot announces, and Calla leans her head against the window to see.
Lady Liberty.
New York City.
Through the window, she recognizes the familiar patina of the statue, perched on an island the size of a dime.
“And there’s the spire of the Empire State Building,”the pilot continues, “and the building with the slanted top is Citicorp. . . .”
Calla spots both.
“That over there is Thirty Rocke feller Plaza, where you’ll be able to see the Christmas tree and go skating in just a few months.”
The plane swoops lower.
High atop 30 Rock, a tiny figure is waving.
“Who is that, Captain?”Calla calls, but there’s no reply.
They circle the building, spiraling lower and lower.
Now Calla can see that the figure is female.
She looks young— maybe Calla’s age, maybe a little older.
She’s wearing an old-fashioned calico dress with an apron and a matching sunbonnet identical to the one Odelia had on in the garden. It shades her face so that Calla can’t make out her features, but there’s something familiar about her.
“Who is that?”she asks again, but nobody replies.
The plane drops lower still.
I know her. There’s something so familiar about her. If only I could see her face. . . .
“Who is she? Can someone please tell me?”
“She’s your sister,”says the passenger in the next seat.
A passenger whose voice is hauntingly familiar.
Shocked, Calla turns to see her mother sitting there.
“Mom!”
Even as she cries out, her mother vanishes.
She jerks her head toward the window again, but the waving girl has disappeared as well, along with the buildings, and the sky, and . . .
With a gasp, Calla sits up in bed.
It was just a dream.
Of course it was.
She doesn’t have a sister.
The baby died.
She sinks back against the pillows, staring into the blackness, her heart still pounding.
It’s a long time before she drifts back to sleep.
FOURTEEN
Lily Dale
Thursday, October 11