by Peg Kehret
I knew the routine, and hoped there were not any smart-aleck boys in this town.
I was sure I knew the answer to my next question, but I asked it anyway. “Do I buy a ticket first, or pay the driver?”
“You pay the driver.”
I thanked him and went back outside. What was I going to do for almost three hours?
“The bus stops here,” I told Charley.
He went inside to pay for his gas.
I walked Snickers to a sparse patch of grass and wondered what I would do if this bus driver refused to allow a dog on board.
14
When Charley returned, Snickers wagged his tail as if Charley had been gone all day. Charley leaned down and scratched Snickers behind both ears. As I watched, I had an idea.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” I said. “A huge favor.”
“Now, I hope you aren’t going to tell me you don’t have the other hundred bucks, because I would not be a happy man if you tried to cheat me.”
“I have the money,” I said. I quickly took five more twenty-dollar bills out of my backpack and handed them to Charley. This time he put them in his wallet without holding them up to the light first.
“So, what’s the favor?”
“Would you keep Snickers for a few days? Once I get to my sister’s house, I’ll be able to come back and get him. That should only be a week or so, and I can pay you for his food.”
“You want me to board your dog.”
“I’d get there a lot faster if I was traveling alone, and I know you’d be good to Snickers.”
“You could put him in a kennel.”
I looked around the sorry excuse for a town. “What kennel?” I said. “Even if there was a boarding kennel, Snickers would be miserable. He’d think I had abandoned him. He needs a warm bed and somebody to pet him and play with him and take him for walks.” I could feel the tears trying to leak out of my eyes, and I blinked to keep them from falling. “I’m afraid the bus driver won’t let me take Snickers on board,” I said. “The last driver wouldn’t take him. We had to walk, and we were caught in a terrible tornado. Snickers already knows you, and likes you. He wouldn’t be scared if he stayed with you.” My bottom lip trembled, and I bit it, to make it stop.
“Where are your parents?” Charley asked.
“I never knew my dad. My mom was killed in an accident ten years ago, and so was my grandma.”
“Who do you live with now?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Look, Brenda, if that’s your name. If you are going to trust me with Snickers, who loves you and who is your loyal companion, then you should be able to trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
I hesitated.
“I think you could use some help right now,” Charley said, “and I don’t mind giving it to you, but I can’t do it unless I know exactly what’s going on. You need to level with me.”
“If I do, will you keep it to yourself? Not tell anyone?”
“I can’t promise that without knowing what you’re going to tell me.”
I looked at the concern in Charley’s eyes and thought what my options were.
I decided to take a chance.
“My name is Sunny Skyland,” I said. “I was separated from my twin sister when our mom died, and I haven’t seen or heard about her since. I’ve been in a string of foster homes; I don’t know where Starr is, but I hope to find her soon.”
“Why are you going to Enumclaw, if you don’t know where she is?”
I showed him the photo, and what was written on the back. I explained my plan to find the house and talk to the people who live there now, and maybe the neighbors.
“Where did you get the cash?” Charley asked.
“I found a bag of money, just like I said, and I tried to find the owner, but nobody claimed it, so I’m using the money to look for Starr.”
“Does your foster family know about this, or did you run away?”
“I ran away. But I left a note so my foster mom would know I hadn’t been abducted.”
“Were the foster people mean to you?”
“Not this time. My current foster mom is actually the best one I’ve ever had. Rita lives by herself and she’s smart and nice.”
“Why didn’t you ask her to help you find your sister?”
I stared at Charley. It had never occurred to me to ask Rita to help me. I was used to living with people who didn’t care about me. I was used to keeping my dreams secret. I realized Rita would have helped me, if I’d asked her to.
“I thought it was something I had to do by myself.”
“You could call her now.”
I shook my head. “Rita would make me come home. Even if she was willing to help me find Starr, she’d want me to come home first. I’ve gone through a lot to make it this far. I want to go the rest of the way, and see if I can find Starr by myself.”
We stood quietly for a moment while Charley thought about what I’d told him. “So, will you take care of Snickers for me?” I asked.
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me call this Rita and tell her you’re okay.”
“She’ll trace the call. She’ll send Hiss after me.”
“Who?”
“The social workers who run the foster-care system. If Rita told them I’m gone, which she probably did, she’d have to let them know that she’s heard from me. They’d be here instantly to drag me back and probably put me in a different foster home, or maybe even in juvenile detention.”
“You like this Rita?”
“Yes. I like her a lot.”
“Do you know how much she’s probably worrying about you? She has no idea if you’re okay or if you’re lying in a ditch somewhere with a knife in your back.”
I knew Charley was right. Rita was undoubtedly frantic with fear over my safety.
“I’ll use a public phone to call my brother in Florida,” Charley said. “Then I’ll ask him to call Rita from a public phone down there. He’ll do it, no questions asked. He won’t say anything except that you’re okay and you’ll be in touch with her soon.”
I felt guilty about making Rita worry after she’d been so good to me, and Charley’s plan sounded foolproof. Rita would know I was okay, Hiss wouldn’t find me, I’d get on the bus for sure, and Snickers would be safe.
“Deal,” I said.
We shook hands. Charley wrote his name, address, and phone number on the back of the gas receipt and handed it to me. “Here’s my card,” he said, grinning. “Call me when you’re ready to pick up your pal.”
I put the paper in my backpack. Then I wrote Rita’s name and number on a sheet of my notebook paper and gave it to him. I set the box of dog biscuits, the water dish, and the plastic bags on the floor of the cab. “Thanks, Charley,” I said.
“Do you have enough money left?” he asked. “If you don’t, I can lend you some, and you can pay me back later.”
“I’m okay,” I told him, “but thanks for offering.”
I hugged Snickers. “Be a good dog,” I told him. “Charley’s going to feed you and take care of you until I can come back for you.” Again, I blinked back tears. For years I had prided myself on being a tough kid who never cried. Now I was on the verge of bawling practically every other minute. Snickers gave my cheek a big slurp, and I lost it, letting my tears fall onto his fur. I felt Charley’s hand, patting my shoulder.
“He’ll be fine,” Charley said. “I’ll take good care of him.”
I took a deep breath, and put Snickers in the cab.
“Good luck,” Charley said. “If you get into trouble, call me.”
I stood in the dirt beside the gas pump and watched the cab drive away. The last thing I glimpsed was Snickers’s nose, pressed to the back window, watching me. I hoped I was doing the right thing. Although I missed Snickers already, I knew he’d be better off with Charley than he would be traveling with me.
Once again,
I was by myself. The story of my life, I thought as I found a shady spot where I could wait for the bus.
15
Without Snickers by my side, the bus driver hardly looked at me. I waved, he stopped, I paid my fare—and the next afternoon I was in Auburn, Washington. A meal, a shower, a night in a motel, and then I boarded a Metro bus. This time when I got off, I was in Enumclaw. Was Starr here, too? For the first time since our mother’s funeral, were my twin and I in the same town?
My first stop was a Welcome Center, where a friendly man asked if he could help me.
“I need a map of Enumclaw,” I told him.
“We have two,” he said. “Take one of each.” He removed two maps from a holder and handed them to me. “There’s plenty of other information,” he told me, nodding toward a rack of brochures for various attractions. “There’s lots to do in this area.”
I thanked him and hurried out the door. I went into a small café called The Hornet’s Nest, ordered a soda, and studied the maps. I decided to start with what appeared to be the two main streets, Griffin and Cole. I’d walk down one and look for number 1041. If I found it, I’d compare the house with the one in my picture and either knock on the door or go a block over and see if there was a number 1041 there. How many 1041s could there be?
If I didn’t find a 1041 on the main streets, I’d keep looking, one street at a time, until I found my house.
The adrenaline began pumping as I paid for my drink and went back outside. I was close now. I might find the right 1041 today. Maybe I would even find Starr today!
At the corner, I noticed a cardboard Garage Sale sign taped to a telephone pole. Half a block away, the front yard of one house contained card tables filled with household merchandise for sale. As my eyes swept the scene, I saw a bicycle at the edge of the sale. I hurried closer. A sticker on the handlebars said ten dollars. It was a plain blue bike with no extra gears, but I knew I could travel a whole lot faster on a bike than I could if I walked.
“Is that your best price?” I asked the woman who was running the sale.
“It’s a good bike,” she replied. “You can try it, if you want to.”
I mounted the bike and rode it a short way down the street. When I returned, the woman said, “I’d take eight dollars for it.”
“Sold.” I paid her and pedaled away, watching the house numbers as I rode.
It took me only ten minutes to find a house numbered 1031. Thinking I was close, I rode slowly, but the next house was 1051. I rode to the next street, where the numbers jumped from 1031 to 1043. It seemed that every street had a 1031, but instead of progressing to 1041, they skipped up to higher numbers.
Many of the homes were ramblers. In the picture, my family stood in front of a two-story house, with steps leading to a front porch.
I continued to ride my bike around Enumclaw, going farther away from the downtown area.
It was mid-afternoon when I found a house numbered 1041. The numbers themselves were missing, but I could see the outline of where they had been, over the porch. As soon as I saw the house, I knew it was the right one. The redbrick chimney matched the photo. A large fir tree grew off to the side, in the area between the sidewalk and the house. The tree seemed familiar, like an acquaintance whose name I couldn’t remember. The tree couldn’t be seen in the picture, yet I was sure it had been there when the photo was taken.
The house needed paint, and the roof shingles were dotted with patches of green moss. Dandelions had gone to seed in the front lawn and the seeds had blown away, leaving behind empty stems.
As I looked at the house, I saw Starr and myself as we had been in the picture—two happy little girls posing with their grandma and her dog while their mom aimed the camera. We had played in this yard, and slept in this house. This very same house!
Even though it now needed some repair, I felt a deep fondness for the house where I had lived with Mama and Grandma and Starr. This had been my home.
Feeling as if I had traveled backward in time, I walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door. A woman opened it about an inch, leaving a chain in place.
“I’m looking for some people who used to live in this house,” I said. “Their last name was Skyland.”
“I don’t know them.”
“Have you lived here long?” I asked.
“That isn’t any of your business.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m trying to find my sister. We used to live here. I have an old picture of us standing in this yard with our grandma.”
The woman’s eyes softened slightly. “We rent this house,” she said. “I don’t know who lived here before we did. You’d have to ask the owner.”
“What’s the owner’s name?”
“I don’t know that, either. We pay the rent to a property management company. Just a minute, I’ll get their card.” She handed a business card through the crack. I thanked her and walked down the steps, feeling discouraged. I wasn’t likely to find someone at a big company who would help me. Privacy rules would probably prevent them from telling me the owner’s name.
I went to the house next door and knocked, but nobody answered. Nobody answered at the house on the other side, either. I would have to come back in the evening, when people were more likely to be at home.
As I nudged the kickstand up with my foot, I saw movement at the window of the house across the street, and realized someone was watching me. I wheeled my bike over there and approached the door. Before I could ring the bell, the door opened. A white-haired woman in an orange and blue flowered muumuu said, “What are you selling?”
“I’m not selling anything.” I held up my empty hands. “I’m looking for someone who used to live there,” I said, pointing. “I wonder if you might know where she is.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“Her last name was Skyland.”
“She’s gone. Loretta Skyland was killed in a car wreck years ago, and her daughter, too.”
Chills ran up my arms. This woman had known my grandma and my mother. “Loretta was my grandma,” I said. “My sister and I lived with her when we were little. So did my mom.”
“You’re one of the twins?” The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re one of Marie’s girls?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes. I’m Sunny.”
The woman opened the door wider and waved me inside. “Come in,” she said. “I’m Connie. I’ll fix us some tea.”
I followed her into the kitchen and watched while she filled an old kettle with water and put it on the stove. “Sunny,” she said, as if trying to remember more about me. “Sunny. You’re the one who went to live with Loretta’s sister. What was her name?”
“Cora. My great-aunt, Cora.”
“Cora! Yes, that’s right. Cora. Is she still living?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t stay with her very long. She sent me to live with her son.”
“Jerod? That no-good who caused her nothing but trouble from the day he was born? He took you?” She sounded genuinely shocked.
“He didn’t keep me long, either.”
“Well, that’s no surprise. I can’t imagine Jerod putting himself out for anyone, not even an orphaned cousin. Where did he send you?”
I didn’t want to go through the whole long list of people I’d lived with, so I said, “I became a ward of the state. I’ve been in foster homes.”
“Maybe you were better off that way. Jerod had a mean streak.” Connie poured tea into two china teacups, placed them on matching saucers, and set them on the table.
I sat across from her. “Now I’m looking for my sister, Starr. I hoped someone here in the neighborhood would know where she went to live.”
“You came to the right place,” she said.
“You know where she is?”
“I don’t know exactly where she is now, but I know who took her after the accident. It was the Andersons, Al and Becky Anderson. They used to live down the street, and they didn’t
have any children, and when Loretta’s sister said she could take only one of you girls, Becky and Al offered to adopt the other one.” Connie’s head bobbed up and down as she spoke, as if confirming her own facts. “They were a nice young couple.”
Knowing how many rules and regulations Hiss has about foster kids, I was amazed that Starr and I had apparently been placed in new homes without anyone ever notifying the authorities.
“You said the Andersons used to live in this neighborhood. Do you know where they went?”
“No. They moved not long after they took the girl,” she said. “Becky said they needed a bigger yard, with room for a swing set.”
“Did any of your current neighbors live here back then?” I asked. “Maybe someone else kept in touch with them.”
“No. The street has changed a lot these past few years.” She shook her head sadly. “Nobody stays put anymore. They move in, live here a year or two, and move on. Some of the houses are rentals, and they’re all owned by the same company. I think the company’s trying to buy the whole block so they can tear everything down and build condominiums.” Connie sipped her tea. “It isn’t like it used to be, when folks raised their family in one spot.”
“Do you have a telephone directory that I could look at?” I asked. Anderson was a common last name, but maybe first names would be listed.
“You aren’t going to make a long distance call, are you?” Connie asked. “My phone bill’s too high as it is.”
“I’m not going to call anyone,” I said. “I only want to see if there’s a listing for Al and Becky Anderson. Maybe they still live in Enumclaw, and I can find their address.”
She handed me the directory, and I turned to the A section. Several Andersons were listed, but no Al and no Becky. However, there were two Andersons with the initial A. I copied down both addresses.
“If you want to call the Andersons, it’s okay,” Connie said. “As long as it’s a local call.”
I could tell she was curious as a cat to know if one of the names in the directory was the one I wanted.
“I think it will be better if I go in person,” I said. “Thanks for the tea and for your help.”