CHAPTER 43
It’s been a couple of months since Zachary’s visit. Dad stays in touch with him, but not as much as Joe and I have with each other. My parents finally bought a computer, and most days I can count on an email from Joe, and he from me.
Joe says his mom is on the 9/11 memorial committee. They both have invited us to visit them in New York. Mom says maybe we can go next summer and make it our first official mother-daughter trip.
Every business in Antler has a collection jar for the memorial on their checkout counter, but our town also has its own monument of tribute. Mr. Pham donated the gazebo to the library, and it’s now on the grounds with a plaque that reads WE REMEMBER, 9-11-01.
A copy of Zachary Beaver’s book, The Sideshow Kid, is at the new library. Kennedy said the whole town must be on the wait list to read it. I’ll always be thankful to Zachary, because in many ways, trying to find him opened the door to my friendship with Joe. Also the search would never have happened if it weren’t for Miss Myrtie Mae and her love of photography. I look at the world differently because of her pictures, finding the extraordinary even in something as common as an empty bird feeder. Our gifts really do keep on giving.
Every Saturday I play at the opry, but I’m still trying to master those bar chords. Because of that, I haven’t played “Sweet Afton” onstage yet. One day I will. When I do, it will be, as Twig and I used to say, tob.
Like the old times, Twig and I sometimes ride around town on our bikes. We include a stop at Mr. Pham’s soon-to-open restaurant. I always look up at the window on the second floor and expect to see Joe sitting there or Miss Myrtie Mae peering out at the street from her first-floor bedroom.
Although we’ve mended our friendship, Twig and I haven’t attempted another trip together back to the canyon overlook, but Dad and I have. He finally dragged his bike out of the shed. Since Joe left, we’ve been there a few times. Before heading out on the old back highway, we check the weather forecast. Dad says the road makes him think of Grandpa. They used to take it a lot when they were delivering worms. Which is probably why he points out landmarks we pass like Prairie Dog Town Fork even though he’s done it many times before.
“Your grandfather loved this canyon,” Dad tells me. “He said it was the reason he came to the Panhandle.”
“Why didn’t he move back to Dallas after Opa went away?” I ask, then wish I hadn’t. We never talk about my grandparents’ divorce.
Dad doesn’t seem bothered by my question, even ponders it awhile, finally saying, “He was home.”
We ride until we reach the twisted incline. Then we hide our bikes behind a mesquite and walk on the shoulder along the road up to the rim of the canyon. Making the climb leaves us breathless, but it’s worth getting to the top.
Now I understand the magnetic pull of this place—it’s rugged, yet open and hollow, as if God has carved out a big beautiful bowl from the earth. I always thought Twig wanted to ride here because she was rebellious, but I’ve changed my mind. This massive canyon cradles sorrows and lifts spirits.
Whenever I’m here, I close my eyes and imagine Joe standing on the rim, calling out to his dad. I visualize Uncle Cal too. And sometimes if the wind is blowing in just the right direction, I swear I can hear the names of all our loved ones who have passed, floating up to us and soaring on, not even stopping when they reach the clouds.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, Jerry Holt, for reading several drafts of this story, finding typos, and questioning facts. He probably didn’t know I would put him back to work after he retired. Thank you, Jerry, for your belief in my work and telling me twenty-six years ago to stop talking about writing and do it.
Shannon Holt, thanks for always giving me your honest feedback. Since you were seven you were my first reader. I’m not sure that’s a fair thing for a mother to ask of her child, but know that I’m forever grateful.
I’m also grateful for Christy Ottaviano, who has always challenged me to dig deeper and reach for my best. Christy, working with you for the last twenty-four years has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. How did I get so lucky?
From the moment I met my agent, Amy Berkower, I knew she would be a good fit for me. It’s rare to find a person with a keen sense of business mixed with warmth. Amy, you possess both. Thank you for fifteen years of guidance.
A special thank you to my friend and author, Lola Schaefer, for being my accountability buddy as I wrote this story. It meant so much that you allowed me to check in daily.
As a reader I appreciate the details other writers put in their books. In my own work, those details often come from interviewing people and researching places. For this story, they are the following: musician Ray Miles, Billie from the Blanco Bowling Club Café, musician Seth Kessel, firefighters Vickie Hess-Miller and Ryan Miller, former ninepin-setter John Young, the 9/11 Memorial & Museum, Amarillo Public Library, Arlington Public Library. A special thank you to the New York Times journalists who covered the hours of the 9/11 tragedy and the days and months that followed. Their articles were an important source that helped me write about this time in our history.
The attacks of 9/11 were devastating to all American citizens, but the impact of that day became more real to me when a few months later Meredith Kennedy Andrews told me that her father, Robert C. Kennedy, “Bob,” was one of the victims. She shared what Bob had meant to his family, and how that day had changed everything for them. Those conversations have stayed with me. I couldn’t have written this book without Meredith. So I’m thankful to her and all the other survivors who continue to share their loved ones’ stories with the world, forever reminding us of who we lost. May we never forget.
Other novels by Kimberly Willis Holt
The Lost Boy’s Gift
Blooming at the Texas Sunrise Motel
Dear Hank Williams
The Water Seeker
Part of Me
Keeper of the Night
When Zachary Beaver Came to Town
My Louisiana Sky
Travel back to the special place where it all began …
Winner of the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature
An ALA Notable Book
One of ALA’s Top Ten Best Books for Young Adults
The Horn Book Fanfare
A School Library Journal Best Book of the Year
“This book packs more emotional power than 90% of the so-called grown-up novels taking up precious space on bookshelves around the country.”
—USA Today
“Holt reinvents the coming-of-age story.”
—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
“In her own down-to-earth, people-smart way, Holt offers a gift.”
—The Horn Book, starred review
“Holt humanizes the outsider without sentimentality … she reveals the freak in all of us, and the power of redemption.”
—Booklist, starred review
“[Holt’s] heartwarming and carefully crafted novel … drives home the point that everyday life is studded with memorable moments.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“Holt has crafted a remarkable story about finding yourself by opening up to the people around you. An excellent choice to read alone or aloud.”
—School Library Journal, starred review
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kimberly Willis Holt is the acclaimed author of many award-winning novels, including The Lost Boy’s Gift, Blooming at the Texas Sunrise Motel, Dear Hank Williams, The Water Seeker, My Louisiana Sky, and When Zachary Beaver Came to Town, winner of the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature. She is also the author of the popular Piper Reed chapter book series and several picture books. Holt lives in Dalworthington Gardens, Texas. Visit her at kimberlywillisholt.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Acknowledgments
Other novels by Kimberly Willis Holt
Travel back to the special place where it all began …
About the Author
Copyright
Text Copyright © 2021 by Kimberly Willis Holt
Illustrations Copyright © 2021 by Ashley Halsey
Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Publishers since 1866
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First hardcover edition 2021
eBook edition 2021
eISBN 9781250234117
The Ambassador of Nowhere Texas Page 16