If You Find Me(35)

“You’re welcome to, if you’d like, but it’s not necessary. I’ll present the points we discussed, give a status report, and it’ll all be over in a matter of minutes. Then I’ll prepare and file the paperwork.”

“We’ll leave it in your capable hands.” My father gets to his feet, motioning for us to follow. “Let’s go, girls. Melissa’s making a special dinner for you two. To celebrate.”

Jenessa gets to her feet and hugs Mrs. Haskell good-bye without her usual pluck.

“She’s just tired,” I say.

But Mrs. Haskell’s eyes bore into mine, digging deep as the hickory roots of the Hundred Acre Wood, if not deeper. My eyes trip over hers, and I’m the first to look away.

I take Jenessa’s hand as we cross the parking lot and she leans into me in her usual way. It’s hard to keep my mind from going back to that night, the night we swore we’d never talk about.

“What happens in the woods, stays in the woods. You hear?”

I shake her bony shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eye.

“You hear?”

Only, that night became the next day, the next night, and the next.

I know it’s my fault Ness went silent. I kept telling myself there were worse things than silence. Worse than Jenessa losing her words would be for her to lose me, like we lost Mama. I’d give my own words to make things different, I would. In the truck, I curl my hands into fists, the nails pressing red half-moons into my palms. I want them to. I want to hurt.

You’re just trying to save your own skin, you coward. That’s what it’s been about all along, and you know it.

Saint Joseph as my witness, I hope that’s not true. I lean down and kiss Nessa’s head, her fine hair sticking to my lips.

What else was I supposed to do?

Once again, I feel the white-hot hatred toward Mama. I let the feeling trickle in without the usual filters, and it feels good because it’s the truth. She’d left us alone while she did who knows what. The books she brought back, the broken toys, the smelly old clothes— they were the consolation prizes.

Only, it’s no consolation, alone in the woods, two young girls short on options. She never should’ve left us there, that time or any other.

What else could I have done?

Nothing. We weren’t strong enough. One day, I’ll be paying the consequences, not Mama, and I burn harder.

But not today, which is its own sort of consolation.





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Jenessa is crazy in love with family dinners. She’s gotten a handle on her eating at this point, no longer stuffing herself or wolfing down her food. She uses her utensils in a civilized manner, doesn’t use her fingers except for stuff like fries or hamburgers or sandwiches, and looks forward to setting the table and helping Melissa in the kitchen before and after.

We’ve all found Nessa in the pantry on more than one occasion, silently mouthing the labels with her finger in the air, counting off cans, but this time it’s different. A person only has to look into her face to see she’s dazzled by all the bounty.

Mrs. Haskell said we shouldn’t worry, that Nessa’s food fascination will pass with time. I’m relieved not to have to worry about feeding us anymore. I have a ton of extra time on my hands now that I’m not shooting and preparing our meals. Melissa says that’s her job, minus the shooting part.

Her canned-food stash, lining shelf after shelf of a walk-in pantry that dwarfs even my large clothes closet, consists of more than just beans. There are cans of olives, mixed vegetables, beets, corn, string beans, asparagus, button mushrooms, tomato paste, noodles, and so on, although Melissa prefers fresh, then frozen, whenever possible. She says she likes to have the canned goods for the wintertime, when the farm is snowed under and she’s down on supplies.

That’s an apt description of now (minus the low supplies). Even Delaney has been home this last week of November, the high school closed due to snow days.

Back home, I help Ness out of her coat and boots, my stomach growling at the wafting scents of Melissa’s celebratory dinner: spaghetti and meatballs, with golden crisp garlic bread hacked off in thickly buttered hunks.

At the table, I take Delaney’s hand in mine, and Jenessa’s in my other, bowing my head.

“For what we are about to receive, let us be thankful,” my father says, glancing at me and Ness when he says it.

Delaney can’t drop my hand fast enough.

“Enough of the suspense! Tell us how it went!”

My father grins at Melissa, an electricity flowing between them. Love. It’s the same that flows between Ness and me, better than a million dollars, and more filling than a whole pantry of canned goods.

“We don’t got nothin’.”

Her arm winds back, and she lets it fly.

“Jenessa Blackburn! You pick that up this instant!”

She stomps her foot in protest, and I get up and pick up the Pooh book myself, wipin the dark, rich soil off the inside pages.

“What do you mean you got nothin’ ”? You have these books, for one. Books are like whole new worlds,” I say, my voice reverent.

“So?”

“So, that means you have the world. And you better take care of it,” I say, handin’ the book back to her.

“I want a Barbie,” Nessa says, sniffin’. She hugs the book to her chest in apology.