Willow Run by Patricia Reilly Giff

Author:Patricia Reilly Giff [Giff, Patricia Reilly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-54937-2
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2005-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I said, “See you later,” to Patches and went into the kitchen. No one was there. A cup was on its side at the table, a lake of milky tea spread out beside it and dripping onto the floor. I dipped my finger into it: not even warm. It had been there a long time.

“Nothing like a hot cup of tea to soothe the spirit,” Grandpa always said; and Ronelle: “Have to have food sooner or later.”

I tiptoed to Mom and Dad's bedroom door. Their room was almost as small as mine, the double bed taking up most of the space. A tall floor lamp with a ripped shade leaned against the wall.

In the dim light I could see Mom lying under the patchwork quilt, her arm hanging off the side, the crumpled handkerchief in her hand. I backed away, thinking she had gone to sleep, but she turned and sat up. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were swollen, and a strand of hair was stuck to her cheek. “Oh, baby, where have you been?” Her voice was breathless. “We didn't know where you were.”

I started to say I wasn't the baby anymore, but that would have made it worse. “I'm sorry.”

“Dad is out looking for you. How could you do that?”

I couldn't say I had gone to the movies. How would that have sounded?

“Go outside, look for Dad. He's frantic trying to find you.”

I didn't move.

“I thought…,” she began, and stopped. “Two gone in a day.” She sank back on the bed again, her eyes closed, and tears seeped out from under her lashes. “Go find Dad,” she whispered.

I went through the kitchen then, turning the teacup upright before I went outside.

I heard Dad's whistle when I opened the door, a shrill sound that he used to call me home for dinner when I was at the beach.

“I'm here,” I called, going down the cement walk. Kennis was sitting there trying to stick two pieces of wood together with a couple of rubber bands.

Dad stood in the middle of the street, his back to me, whistling again. I kept calling and waving as I went toward him until he turned and saw me.

“Meggie?”

“I'm sorry,” I said again, but he pulled me to him, hugging me so hard I had trouble taking a breath. I knew he'd ask where I had been, so I rushed on. “Listen, I could make more tea. Some for you and some for Mom. Lots of sugar.”

His eyes were red.

My father crying. “What happened to you?” he asked.

I stared down at the cracked cement under my feet. “I was with Harlan and Patches,” I said slowly. “The kids on the other side of the walls.”

Dad nodded. “It's all right. We were just worried….” He swallowed hard. He was having trouble with his mouth, too.

“Let's go home,” I said. “Let's just go home to Rockaway. Eddie won't even know how to picture us here. He won't know what it's like.”

Dad closed his eyes for a moment; then we walked along the street together.

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