The Last Present

by Wendy Mass

  Leo pulls me aside when we reach the porch. “Hey, what if we don’t do that toast? You think we’d still be able to go into the past whenever we want?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. I’m not sure I want to, though. Maybe Bucky was right. Maybe those ghosts should stay sleeping. They’ve had their turn.”

  He squeezes my hand. “I agree.”

  Tara and Rory join us, and a lump forms in my throat when I see their happy faces. I swallow and say, “I just want to thank you guys for everything you did for me and Leo this week. It’s just so above and beyond the call of friendship and I’m so lucky to have you guys and … and I’ll never forget it.”

  “Ditto what she said,” Leo adds.

  Rory and Tara start crying and soon we’re all crying, except Leo, who might be crying, but he has his head down so it’s hard to tell.

  “We better get home,” I say after a few minutes of going over what Tara’s going to say to the Kellys. “You’ll let us know how David is, right, Tara? When you meet him at the train?”

  “What do you mean? You guys will totally be there.”

  “Don’t you want to see David alone?” I ask, surprised.

  She shakes her head. “He’ll be with his mom, so it’s not going to be this big, private reunion or anything. He didn’t even really ask me to come; he just said the train gets in at five, that’s all.”

  “He definitely wants you to come,” I assure her.

  Ray steps out from the car. “I’ll pick you up at four thirty, young lady,” he says firmly. “Now go in there and do your best to convince that family that their daughter isn’t crazy.” I thought he’d been sleeping in there, but apparently he’d heard everything. Tara grins and runs back into the house.

  “That thank-you extends to you, too, Ray,” I tell him. “You were totally aces!”

  “The expression is ace,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Not aces.”

  “That doesn’t sound right.”

  He groans. “Never mind. Let’s get you all home and into the showers.”

  “Are you saying we smell?” Rory asks as we climb into the car.

  “I ain’t saying ya don’t.”

  When a car honks in my driveway at four thirty, it’s Tara’s mom, not Ray, behind the wheel of the SUV.

  “Is that one of the T-shirts your aunt got you?” I ask Tara as I join Rory and Leo in the back. “I’ve never seen you in yellow.”

  “Aunt Bethany told me I have to look cheery when picking up a friend who just spent a week visiting his sick father. Apparently none of my own clothes are cheery. I feel like the surface of the sun.”

  I lean forward and pat her shoulder. “You do look very sunny. But in a cheery kind of way.”

  “Now that you’re all here,” her mom says as we head down the street, “I wanted to ask if your involvement with Angelina is over.”

  “Yes,” Tara replies quickly.

  “Hopefully,” Rory says.

  “Not sure,” I say.

  “Is anything really over when Angelina is involved?” Leo asks.

  Mrs. Brennan sighs. “Well, that clears it up.”

  To change the subject, Tara tells us all about the house they’ll be moving into in a few weeks. “It’s right down the street from my aunt and uncle, and it’s two floors, and I’ll have to sign up for school. Maybe we’ll be in the same classes!”

  Her mother smiles as she drives, clearly enjoying Tara’s excitement. We’re halfway to the train station when she says, “Oh, Tara, I almost forgot. A letter came for you today. It’s in my pocketbook if you want to grab it.”

  “A letter?” Tara asks. “Is it from Mrs. Schafer, my English teacher? Or I should say, my old English teacher?”

  “Nope.”

  Tara digs around her mom’s large bag until she finds it. “Oh!” she says, staring at the return address written on the back of the envelope.

  “Is it from David?” Rory asks, leaning forward.

  Tara shakes her head. It takes a full minute before she says, “It’s from an old pen pal of mine, Julie.” Her voice is really tight when she says it.

  “Cool,” Rory says. “When was the last time you heard from her?”

  Tara hesitates, then says, “Fourth grade.” She turns the envelope over and runs her finger over the stamp, which for some reason is on upside down.

  “Wow,” Rory says. “You’ve been writing to each other ever since then?”

  “Well … she wrote for a while. And then we lost touch.”

  “As I recall, you never wrote her back,” her mother says.

  “I did, too,” Tara argues. “Lots of times. She just didn’t receive them until now.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  But Tara doesn’t answer.

  “Aren’t you gonna open it?” Leo asks.

  Tara looks at the letter a little longer, then shakes her head and puts it in her pocket. Every few minutes she touches that pocket like she can’t quite believe the letter’s there.

  The parking lot at the train station is pretty empty, as usual. Not too many people come or go from River Bend or Willow Falls or any of the other small towns nearby that this station serves. There are only two tracks, one going south, one north. David and his mom will be arriving on the southbound track. The Kellys’ car pulls in right after us, so we wait for them to park before heading over to the platform. Connor and Grace are laughing as they step out into the parking lot. I’m struck again by how Grace has changed. It’s not only that she looks older, but she looks wiser, too. Last week she was a little girl, and now, well, she’s something else entirely.

  Tara’s mom hangs back to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Kelly while the rest of us hurry up to the platform. When we’re away from all the grown-ups, Grace takes my hand and reaches over for Leo’s, too. “You used those chalkboards for a whole year for me! Tara told me about the birthday parties. I knew you guys were trying to help me but I had no idea how far you went. I mean, you went really far!”

  “Yup,” I say. “You were especially cute at four.”

  She squeezes both our hands and looks us directly in the eye. “Thank you both so much for everything.” She says it with such sincerity that I feel her gratitude all the way down to my toes. “Thank you for going back, and thank you for refusing to go back once you learned what was at stake.” She squeezes our hands one more time and then moves them closer until somehow Leo and I are left holding hands. She gives a satisfied smile and turns away.

  Leo and I don’t look at each other, but I can sense his grin anyway.

  “We agreed it was best not to tell anyone else about Grace’s powers,” Connor tells us. “Not right away, at least.”

  “We won’t, either,” I promise. “We’ve learned that until someone has an experience with Angelina, or seen the magic themself, you just wind up sounding crazy.”

  Tara keeps looking over at the clock on the brick wall. “Five more minutes,” she says, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  “The train’s going to be early,” Grace says.

  “Wow, you really are connected to everything!” Tara says. “How do you know that?”

  Grace laughs. “Because I can see it coming down the track!”

  Tara turns around to see the train coming toward us. “Oh!”

  We try not to laugh at Tara, but it comes out anyway. The train pulls up and the doors whoosh open. The only person who steps out is a teenager with a duffel bag. He heads down the platform, whistling. We look up and down the length of the train, craning our necks to see around the bend. Just when I’m about to suggest that maybe they missed the train, David’s mom comes into view a few doors down. She steps onto the platform and we all run toward her. David steps out next, carrying two big suitcases. I flash back for a second to the eight-year-old David that we saw a few days ago. He’s still there, inside this bigger one. He quickly scans the group and when his eyes land on Tara, his face lights up. He drops the suitcases and runs up to her.

>   “Hi!” he shouts over the engine noises.

  “Hi!” Tara replies, her voice a little shaky. She gives an awkward wave to David’s mom. Another two people exit from the last door on the train, and one more man steps off behind David. We step back to let him pass. To my surprise, the man stops.

  David takes a deep breath. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my dad.”

  We all stare, jaws open, at the man before us. I try to take it in. He is of medium height, wearing glasses, a football jersey, jeans, and sneakers. He has a newspaper tucked under one arm, and a laptop bag on his shoulder. Fit and rosy cheeked, he looks like the complete opposite of someone who has been lying in a bed for the past five years. “Hi, kids,” he says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  None of us is capable of movement or speech. “Dad, this is Tara, my …” He pauses and looks to Tara for confirmation before finishing his sentence. She comes out of her shock enough to nod. “Girlfriend,” he finishes with a grin.

  “Hello, girlfriend Tara,” his father says, patting Tara on the shoulder. “You’ve made my son very happy.”

  “Dad!” David says, blushing like this is a normal event, just a son introducing his girlfriend to his father.

  Tara chokes out, “It’s so great to meet you!” and then resumes her staring, like the rest of us. Even footfalls pounding on the platform behind us can’t make us turn away.

  “Phil!” a man’s voice shouts. Seconds later Mr. Kelly comes barreling past us. “Is it really you?”

  David’s father (!!!) laughs and puts out his hand. Mr. Kelly embraces him instead, then pulls away. “I’m sorry! I hope I didn’t hurt you!”

  He laughs again. “No, no, I’m quite hardy now.” He flexes his arm to prove it, and they laugh some more.

  The train doors swoosh closed, a clear message that we, like that train, can only go forward. One long belch of steam, and it chugs away from the station.

  Connor is still staring at David’s dad. “What … how … what …” he stutters.

  “It’s a miracle,” David says, his eyes shining the same way they did when he sang during his service. “When we got to the clinic this morning, he was laying in his bed as usual. One of his nurses was in there, rearranging his pillows, then she left. A few minutes later, he blinked, sat up in bed, and said, ‘Hi, family, I’m back.’”

  “But … how?” Rory asks. Next to Connor, she was the one who knew David the best, and knew what he’d gone through with his dad so sick.

  “The doctors have no idea. They wanted to keep him there for observation but he was like, ‘No way, I’m going home!’”

  Rory steps forward to introduce herself and when she moves, Grace comes into view behind her. She’s the only one who doesn’t look shocked. In fact, she looks kind of like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland, with a knowing, satisfied smile. Leo spots it, too. I have a feeling we’re thinking exactly the same thing. Leo pulls David aside. Tara and I follow. “Your father’s nurse,” he whispers hurriedly. “What did she look like?”

  “Pretty ordinary looking. White hair, short, nurselike. Why?”

  “Did she have a duck-shaped birthmark on her cheek?” I ask.

  “No, I don’t think so. Wait, you mean like that old lady in town?”

  “Yes, like her,” I reply.

  “I’m sure I would have noticed that,” he says.

  “Did she wear a lot of makeup?” Tara asks in a hushed voice.

  “I can’t say I know a lot about makeup. But I guess she did. It can’t be the same person you’re thinking of, though. This lady is a nurse. And it’s not like she had anything to do with my dad’s recovery. She’s been coming to see him ever since he was a little kid. If she could’ve fixed him, she’d have done it a long time ago.” He keeps glancing over at his dad, as though he’s afraid he’ll suddenly vanish.

  Leo and Tara and I stare at one another, then back at David. “How long ago did they meet, exactly?”

  He thinks back. “Maybe thirty-five years ago or something? My dad was around five. He was having these occasional spasms and his parents had heard about this clinic, the same one we just came from. On the way to get my dad checked out, they decided to stop in Willow Falls for lunch because they wanted to show my dad where his great-grandfather had been born.” He turns around. “Hey, Dad, where did you guys go when you stopped in Willow Falls that one time when you were a kid?”

  “Some kind of diner, I think. They had the best chocolate chip pancakes! Mmm … pancakes!” He rubs his belly. “I can’t wait to eat pancakes again after almost a decade of protein drinks!”

  And then all at once, I understand. I can tell from Leo’s and Tara’s faces that they do, too. Angelina had been trying for thirty-five years to fix David’s dad because she couldn’t fix his great-grandfather Joshua! If she had been able to cure him, then David’s dad — and David himself — wouldn’t have inherited the disease. I repeat Angelina’s last words to us: “I’m still not strong enough.”

  “But I am,” Tara says, imitating Grace’s first words upon waking.

  I get the chills when she says it.

  “What are you guys talking about?” David asks.

  “Where is she?” Tara says, turning in a circle. “Where’s Grace?”

  Mr. and Mrs. Kelly realize she’s missing, too, and start to panic, running up and down the platform, checking behind the benches.

  “There!” Rory shouts, pointing across the tracks to the northbound platform.

  Grace, her red hair gleaming in the sun, stands beside an old couple, one very short, one very tall, both with very white hair. The man has two large suitcases at his feet. The woman carries a cane with the handle in the shape of a duck. It’s impossible to equate her with the eighteen-year-old girl we met last night.

  “Look who’s finally come back to town,” Leo says. Tara’s mother narrows her eyes and looks as if she’d like to go bounding over there to give Angelina a piece of her mind. Something tells me Mrs. Brennan isn’t quite as forgiving of Angelina’s methods as we’ve been. Tara puts her hand firmly on her mom’s arm.

  They are too far away for us to make out their words. We watch as Grace and Angelina both nod, then embrace. Angelina’s never been a hugger, but I suppose for the girl who is finally freeing her of her self-imposed century-long penance, she can squeeze out one hug. The whistle blows, announcing the arrival of the next train. Grace pulls away, then goes to hug Bucky. Finally she heads toward the stairwell that connects the platforms, clutching what looks from here to be a regular old shoe box. Angelina and Bucky turn toward the track in preparation to board the approaching train. David does a double take, then exclaims, “Hey, there’s my dad’s nurse! She must have been on our train. I wonder where she’s going?”

  In another few seconds we won’t be able to see them. Just before the train pulls into the station and hides them from view, Bucky looks right at Leo and me. “Thank you,” he mouths.

  We nod in response and wave. I don’t expect a thank-you from Angelina, and we don’t get one. But as the train pulls away with them on it, she presses her face to the window nearest us and winks. That’s good enough for me.

  Our parents are helping the Goldbergs take their bags to their car, so we climb into Dad’s backseat to wait. “That’s it?” Connor asks, pointing to the present Angelina gave me. “A hundred years of wisdom inside a shoe box?”

  “I’m sure it’s not just a shoe box,” I argue, feeling the need to defend her. “Angelina works in mysterious ways, remember?”

  “Maybe it’s a magical shoe box,” he says. “Now you can make the footwear of your dreams appear inside with a tap of your finger. Or is it a twitch of your nose? How are you supposed to make stuff happen anyway?”

  “I really don’t —”

  “Hey,” he interrupts. “What number am I thinking of? Who’s gonna win the World Series this year? When school starts will you make it so I have four gym periods every day and no math? And make it so all t
he girls on the gymnastics team fight over me and …”

  “I’m so glad you’re not going to treat me any differently,” I say, pinching him on the leg.

  “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You’re right. Just one girl on the gymnastics team will be fine.”

  I laugh. “I’m glad you’re my brother.”

  “And I’m glad you’re the chosen one and not me. All that helping people would take away from my video game time.”

  We get quiet as our parents climb in the front seats, full of talk of the miracle of Mr. Goldberg’s recovery. Mom keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror like she wants to ask me something but isn’t sure she wants to know the answer. Part of me wishes my parents didn’t know about what’s happening to me. They’re going to want to try to protect me and shelter me and make it easier, and I don’t think they’ll be able to do that.

  Even if I wanted to, I can’t do any of the stuff Connor asked of me, at least not for two more years. Curing David’s dad took the last of Angelina’s powers and most of mine, too. Angelina told me it will take two years to fully replenish them. Even though I won’t be able to control much, I can still sense the stream of time and I can see the web that connects everyone to everyone else. I’m kind of glad for the time off. Starting middle school next year will be hard enough.

  I look around the car, curious what the energy will tell me. My family’s thoughts come quickly and easily. Connor wants me to open the box. My mother’s thoughts come like lightning. She is wired like she’s been shot through with electricity. One second she’s thinking that if her daughter is some kind of vortex of power, what are her duties as the vortex’s mother? Is there a job description on the Internet? Then she decides that she’ll have to get me a cell phone now so she can keep track of me while I’m off doing vortex business. (Bonus!)

  Dad just wants coffee.

  Angelina told me she’ll teach me how to shut my mind to all the voices, but I’ve mostly figured it out. I figured out a lot during that week of silence. You learn a lot more from listening than talking. I did not know this, before.