by Tess Hilmo
He politely stepped back, allowing her to open the gate. “Hey, boy,” she said, running a hand along his back.
Aunt Elise came down the driveway. “How are you?” She asked it in a way that let Jade know the Parkers must have called and explained what had happened.
“I’m okay.”
Aunt Elise guided Jade across the yard and into the house. “Do you want to talk?” Aunt Elise said.
“No. I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”
“That’s fine.”
* * *
When Aunt Elise called Jade for dinner, she said, “I hope you’re hungry. I made meatballs.”
“Buffalo?” Jade asked.
“Sorry,” Aunt Elise said, pulling out a kitchen chair and offering it to Jade. “I was out of buffalo so I went with ostrich.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Aunt Elise smiled. “Yes, I’m kidding. You’re going to have to settle for boring old beef tonight. But I’m fairly certain I ruined the rice—if that helps at all.” She reached over and turned on the corner fan, sending a whirling breeze to ruffle the stars and planets overhead. Jade knew it was in honor of Roy’s heartache. “One scoop or two?” Aunt Elise was dipping a ladle into the Crock-Pot of meatballs and sauce.
Jade thought of how much her aunt’s cooking had improved over the past few weeks. “Two.”
They ate dinner without a word, the glittered and bright art twisting above them. When the last plate was washed and the counters had been wiped down, Aunt Elise asked, “So what’s your plan?”
“You expect me to make this better for Roy?”
“Who else?”
Jade hung up the dish towel she was using and went outside to think about the situation. She crossed the backyard, followed by a line of dogs. She ran her fingers through the long grass, kicked some rocks, and peered up into the sky. Before long, she found herself under the rumpled oak by the creek bed. Astro nudged his head up under her arm.
“Got any ideas, boy?” Jade asked, sitting down on the grassy slope.
Astro harrumphed and sat down next to her. The other dogs followed suit, tongues wagging in the evening heat.
Jade noticed some leftover sticks and string off to the side, where her aunt had left them a couple of days before. Without thought, she took the sticks and began twisting them into a triangle. Astro pushed out his front paws, lay down, and looked at Jade with his dark watery eyes as if to say, Tell me all about it.
“Why did he have to send away for his genealogy?” she began, working her boat. “He was plenty happy living with his imaginary ancestors. Why did he have to go and ruin it?”
Astro kept his eyes fixed on Jade and gave the smallest nod.
“Your real life is never as good as what your imagination can create,” Jade said, and, as she did, Astro puffed out a heavy breath and shook his head sharply.
Jade pressed her lips together. “Are you disagreeing with me?” As if to test her theory, she said it again. “Your real life is never as good as what your imagination can create.”
Astro shook his head once more. Sharp and decisive. Full of surety.
Jade didn’t know what to think about that. She finished her boat, inched down to the creek that was now just a trickle, and dropped it in. “This one is yours,” she said to Roy. “You’ve got to let that burden go.” The sticks moved slowly, but eventually worked their way down and out of sight. Jade pulled her knees up, crossed her arms, and rested her chin.
Lobo waddled to her side, teeth jutting up over his lip. Jade tugged on his stumpy tail and tried to keep thinking about how to help Roy. Nothing was coming to mind.
Dusty evening melted into twilight before Jade gave up and went back into the house. When she came through the door, Aunt Elise looked at her with a hopeful expression.
Jade shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do. I told him he was more than a stack of papers. I even floated a stick boat down the creek for him.”
“You can’t float someone else’s worries away.”
“I’m at a loss.”
Aunt Elise put aside her book and stood up. “Let’s ask the stars.”
Jade loved her aunt. She had come to appreciate—even enjoy—her eccentricities over the past two weeks. But Jade was also a realist. She knew they had run into a brick wall and Roy had to figure out the situation for himself. “It’s hopeless,” she said.
“It’s never hopeless. You’re just not listening.”
“Listening to what?”
Aunt Elise lowered her voice. “The promptings.”
Jade started to walk away, but Aunt Elise grabbed her arm. “Let’s go listen together.” Aunt Elise pulled Jade back through the kitchen, out the door, and to the ladder.
“I don’t think that—” Jade began to protest.
Aunt Elise raised a finger to her lips and then pointed to her ear as if to say, No talking, just listening.
Jade clamped her mouth shut and followed her aunt onto the roof. She thought the idea was absurd, but she still followed.
The evening was deepening. A sliver of moon hung over the Tetons in the distance and a patchwork of black clouds filled the sky.
“I doubt we’ll see many stars tonight,” Jade said, looking at those clouds.
Aunt Elise did the finger-to-her-mouth-and-then-ear thing again.
Jade stretched out on a beach lounger and waited as night fully eased over the valley. Aunt Elise was on the lounger to Jade’s left. After about an hour of lying in the dark, Jade said, “How long are we going to stay up here?”
“For as long as it takes,” Aunt Elise whispered. “Are you thinking about possibilities?”
Jade had to admit she wasn’t. She had been watching the occasional faint star shining through the clouds and thinking about how much time had passed. It had been a long hour, but it was clear her aunt was in no hurry to go anywhere, so Jade kept watching the sky.
To pass the time, she began revisiting her day—the festival trucks lined up downtown and the banners draped across the streets. Sandy and her smug confidence about winning the poetry contest again. She thought about the panic in Mrs. Parker’s face when she ran out to meet Jade and the miserable look in Mr. Parker’s eyes when he handed her that stack of genealogy papers. How he knew his son was hurting.
It all played out in her head.
Finally, she thought about sitting on the creek bed and wishing away Roy’s sorrow with a simple triangle of sticks. How Astro had looked at her and seemed to understand every word she said. How he had even disagreed with her, or at least gave that impression.
Astro.
That loving beast.
Jade breathed in the night air and thought about how much she adored that dog.
And in those moments of thought about genealogy papers and heartache and Astro, Jade’s answer came.
It nearly took her breath away, the idea was so clear and perfect.
“I know what we need to do,” she said, sitting up, filled with light and wonder, and amazement that Aunt Elise’s listening plan had actually worked. A laugh bubbled out. “I do! I know exactly what Roy needs.”
Aunt Elise reached over. “See?” she said. “The stars always answer.”
32
Jade needed to speak to Roy’s parents alone, but that wasn’t a problem. When she went over the following day, she learned he had shut himself up in his bedroom and refused to come out—even when his mom made her out-of-this-world cinnamon rolls.
“We’ll visit in the front yard,” Mrs. Parker said, wanting to be certain of their privacy.
Once they were a ways from the house, Jade began to explain her plan. “Mr. Parker, how much do you know about your family history?”
He shoved his fists into the pockets of his brown bathrobe. “Not much beyond a generation or two.”
“What about that box of journals and pictures you got when your dad passed on?” Mrs. Parker said. “Is there much information there?”
“Might be,” he said.
“Do you have the papers Roy sent for?” Jade asked.
“I have most of them; why?”
“Well, I was out by the creek talking to Astro.” She paused a moment, understanding the unusual nature of what she had said. The Parkers were not fazed in the least.
“Go on,” Mr. Parker said.
“And I said something about how the real world is never as good as what our imagination can come up with and he did the weirdest thing. He looked right at me and shook his head, like he was disagreeing with me.”
Mr. Parker let out a small laugh. “Crazy dog.”
“I didn’t think much of it at the time,” Jade went on, “but later, when Aunt Elise and I were listening to the stars…” She paused. Still, again, the Parkers seemed to accept what she said without hesitation. “I thought, what if Astro’s right? What if Roy’s real family line could be as interesting as the one he’s imagined all these years?”
“I don’t think any old pictures I might be able to dig up will compare to Butch Cassidy,” Mr. Parker said. “He’s an American legend!”
“You might be surprised,” Jade said. “My dad tells this story about how his distant great-uncle fought right alongside Ulysses S. Grant in the Civil War and later served under his presidency.”
“Is that so?”
“He even has a Medal of Honor this guy supposedly earned. What I’m saying is there could be all sorts of stories in your own family history. Maybe teaching Roy more about who he is will stop him from being so sad about who he isn’t.”
Mrs. Parker fluttered a hand over her mouth. “That’s an exceptional idea!”
* * *
Mr. Parker went into his work shed, stepped past his glassblowing equipment, and went to a cardboard box shoved in the corner. “I’ve never even looked in here,” he said, pulling out a stack of pictures.
“I did,” Mrs. Parker said. “When it first came. It’s all from your father’s side.”
“The Parker line,” Jade said, knowing it was perfect for her plan. “He may not be related to the famous Roy Parker, but maybe we can show him some other Parkers who were just as great.”
All three sat around the box, taking one piece of paper out at a time. They looked at pictures and read the lines printed on the back: Horace at Lake Erie or Ginny with the cat.
It didn’t look promising.
They studied old letters and newspaper clippings and tried to sort the information into family-group piles. From what Jade could see, there were generations of records there. Years and years of people’s lives reduced to a mess of paper, scattered across the workshop floor. She wondered if that was all she would be someday: a picture at the bottom of a cardboard box.
“Did you know any of these people?” she asked, organizing some black-and-white photos by dates.
“A few,” Mr. Parker said. “I knew my grandparents of course, but they never talked much of my great-grandparents. I think my great-grandfather worked for the railroad. That’s about all I knew of him.”
Jade got excited for a second. “Was he ever working on a train that got robbed by the Wild Bunch?” The Wild Bunch, Roy had repeatedly told her, was the name of Butch Cassidy’s gang.
“I think he spent more time building the rails than riding them,” Mr. Parker said.
“Oh.”
They went back to reading letters and sorting piles. Then Mr. Parker stood up. “There’s nothing here,” he said. “Just regular people living regular lives.” He dropped a brown leather journal back into the box and went inside.
Mrs. Parker forced a smile. “Good folks,” she said. “But no Medals of Honor in the Parker line. Thanks for trying, Jade. It was a nice thought.”
“Do you mind if I stay longer?” Jade asked.
Mrs. Parker let out a quiet groan as she stood up. “I’m afraid it’s more pictures of Horace at the lake or Ginny with the cat, but you’re welcome to keep looking.”
“Thanks.”
Mrs. Parker went inside, leaving Jade alone. She picked up a photograph of a young boy on a tricycle and tried to imagine what life for him might have been like. He wore red shorts, suspenders, and a miniature sailor’s hat. She flipped the picture over: William, 1976. It was Roy’s dad. Jade set the picture aside and pulled out another, this one black-and-white and of a woman standing by a Cadillac. She flipped it over: Rita’s new ride, 1953.
Then she pulled that brown leather journal out of the box. It belonged to someone named George J. Parker and the dates were all from the ’20s and ’30s:
June 26, 1924
Began construction on the Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA) today. Lucky to have the work, though I’d prefer to have my paintings featured inside instead of just laying the bricks. Maybe someday.
Another Parker artist, Jade thought. She flipped ahead in the book and read a different page:
August 2, 1934
Lulu made soup. It was delicious.
Jade shut the journal. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Parker were right. These records were about good, hardworking people but there was nothing special about any of them. At least, nothing that would pull Roy out of his sorrow. She stacked the photos into the box and began to shove it back into the corner, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something about that seemed disrespectful to those people. Like they didn’t matter. Instead, she lifted the box onto Mr. Parker’s workbench.
“I guess that’s what I get for listening to a dog,” she said.
A voice cut in behind her. “Was it Lobo or Yaz?”
Roy.
“You feeling better?”
He lifted a shoulder. “So what did the dog say?”
Jade glanced back to the box. “Nothing.”
“That’s because dogs don’t actually talk.” He whirled a finger at his temple.
Jade knew he was teasing and was happy he felt good enough to make fun.
Roy pulled a pair of orange tennis shoes from a pile of shoes by the door, sat down, and started working them onto his feet.
“No cowboy boots?”
“Someone recently told me I have to get over that.”
“What I said,” Jade clarified, “is that you have to get over feeling sorry for yourself and learn to be okay with the truth.”
Roy jerked his head up. Everything about his face looked tired and worn down. His eyes were deep sunken pits with dark lines smeared underneath. “Maybe it’s time we both start living our truths. You quit writing papers about summer adventures you’ve never had and I’ll come to terms with the fact that I’m nobody.”
“Did Aunt Elise tell you about my binder?”
“I have my ways.”
“Fine. So I made up a couple of stories. Who cares? But you’re wrong about being nobody.”
“No I’m not. I even have the paperwork to prove it.” He went back to tying his shoes.
Jade was out of patience. “I wonder why the people at Genealogy.com didn’t stamp a red A for average on your pedigree chart. Or even better, a big N for nitwit.” She didn’t wait for Roy to answer. She left him there in his dad’s workshop and went home.
33
Everyone was gearing up for Wellington’s Juniper Festival, just two days away. People put twinkle lights in their trees and fixed mini Wyoming state flags to their car antennas. The flag was blue with red trim and a big white buffalo in the middle. Jade couldn’t look at it without remembering Aunt Elise’s stew and feeling guilty.
“How big are the fireworks?” Jade asked her aunt as they wrapped streamers around the dog statue and threaded them through the chain-link fence at the end of Aunt Elise’s driveway.
“The ones we’ll set off here or the ones at the festival?”
Jade stopped threading. “Wyoming allows private fireworks?”
“Sure.”
“Even after the Fourth of July?”
Realization came into Aunt Elise’s eyes. “Wyoming allows them year-round. I forgot how restrictive Philly is when it comes to
fireworks. You’ve probably not had the chance to have anything other than sparklers.” She was overflowing with excitement. “Let’s go right now. There are two stands out on the county line. You can have your pick! We’ll get fountains and those neat twisty things…” She was speedily threading the last bits of streamers through the fence. “And the spinning flowers that change colors as they shoot across the pavement. Those are my favorite.” Her long, thin eyebrows wiggled from under her bangs. “Let your old auntie take care of everything. Your only job is to relax and have a good time. No worrying allowed.”
More than anything in that moment, Jade wanted to let go of the heaviness she had been feeling and have a freewheeling fireworks extravaganza. “Okay,” she said. “But only if we get some of those strobes that flash superbright.”
* * *
Much to Jade’s surprise, Astro loved fireworks. He sat down next to her folding camp chair and watched each fantastic spray of light with intense eagerness. It was as if he was trying to figure out how so much power came from such a small package. He’d watch the display, shake his head, and slap his tongue across his lips in disbelief. Then he’d look to Aunt Elise as if to say, Do it again!
The other dogs weren’t as interested. They huddled down in their houses, bothered by the loud pops and snaps Jade and her aunt were setting off at the end of the drive. All except Genghis Khan, that is. He sat on the porch with an air of disinterest, refusing to be sent running.
Jade looked up into the night, mesmerized by how the spray of firework lights seemed to mingle with the low-hanging stars, as if they were partners coming together in a dance. It was extraordinary.
“I gave Brenda and William a call, but they didn’t feel right coming without Roy.” Aunt Elise was lining up three pillar fireworks for another one of her triple-threat displays.
“And he’s still pouting?”
Aunt Elise lit the wicks with her punk and stepped back quickly. One, two, three … purple and white sparks shot up into the night, whizzing and popping. “There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to decide if they’re going to accept themselves as they are or keep wishing they were someone else.” She sat down in the chair next to Jade. “Roy’s time came sooner than most, is all.”