All That's Bright and Gone (ARC)

by Eliza Nellums

Uncle Donny comes in behind me and sits on the couch, staring at the wall. “I need to make some phone calls,” he says. “Can you play down here? Uh, within sight.”

  So that’s how we spend the next day. And the day after.

  I lure the cat from next door right up onto the front steps so she can have tea with me, and Uncle Donny asks the neighbors if they mind and they say it’s okay. She’s more friendly now that she knows I can be nice, and because Uncle Donny gave me the can of tuna to give her. Uncle Donny says sometimes cats take a while to warm up but that a bribe doesn’t hurt.

  You know what I have been thinking? Is that Mr. Rutledge must miss Neddy just as much as I have missed Mama all this time. That is the most terrible thing I can think of.

  Then finally one morning I wake up and hear voices downstairs. At first I think it might be the radio, because Uncle Donny likes to watch the news in the mornings, but it doesn’t sound like news and there’s no music playing. I get up and go down the hall in my pajamas, and from the top of the stairs I peep down into the doorway to see who it is.

  “Aoife, come on, I’ve got someone who has been waiting a long time to see you again,” says Uncle Donny. He thinks I don’t know who it is already, but I do. I walk down the stairs real slow, just in case I’m wrong.

  She looks different than the last time I saw her. Her face is thinner and she has droopy skin under her eyes. She looks tired. But then she looks up from the bottom of the stairs and sees me, and she smiles. “Who’s this grown-up girl?” she says, and she looks just the same as always.

  “Mama!” I say, and I take a flying leap off the landing to run straight into her arms.

  “There’s my jumping bean,” says Mama. I put my arms around her neck just like I always do. She doesn’t smell quite right, too much hospital, but underneath it I can almost smell her normal smell. She feels the right shape though, and I hug her and bury my face in her shoulder and feel her silky hair brushing against my cheek.

  She starts swaying with me in her arms, back and forth, just like she always does, like we’re dancing. I put my head on her neck and listen to her breathing. I hold on so tight that my fingers hurt.

  “Aoife, baby, I missed you so much,” says Mama, rocking back and forth. And I’d almost forgotten how good it sounds when she says my name. “I’m really sorry I had to leave you alone like that.”

  “Are you crying, Mama?”

  Uncle Donny leans over so we’re eye to eye and brushes my hair out of my face. “Your ma’s just happy, Aoife, that’s all.”

  “I just missed you so much,” Mama whispers.

  “I missed you too, Mama! But don’t cry. Uncle Donny and I had lots of fun, and I was real well behaved. Wasn’t I?”

  “Ah, sure, kiddo. I guess you could’ve been worse.”

  We walk into the kitchen together, where Uncle Donny has made breakfast. I thought Mama might ask about home base being gone, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Maybe Uncle Donny already told her that he took it down. I wonder what she’ll think when she sees all the food in the fridge. The boxed milk is gone—Uncle Donny tossed it all away. And there’s no dishes in the sink anymore. Plus the tent in the living room is missing, and the TV is back in the TV stand instead of candles, and Uncle Donny’s computer is plugged in on the counter.

  “I heard you had lots of adventures,” says Mama, pulling out a chair so I can sit next to her at the table. She looks a little paler than I remember, but she’s smiling, so I smile, too.

  “I went all over the neighborhood in the middle of the night! Uncle Donny says I slept walked,” I say. By now everybody has said it to me so many times that it feels true, even though I know it isn’t. But I also know Mama doesn’t want to hear about me and Teddy running around together, or what we learned about Theo. So if Uncle Donny says I slept walked then I’m going to tell everybody that.

  “People in this family tend to have that problem,” she agrees. “I remember when we were kids, your uncle Donny used to get up at night and walk up and down the stairs.”

  “He still does!” I say.

  Uncle Donny looks surprised. “You didn’t say anything,” he says.

  I shrug.

  “We put a special bolt on the door so she can’t get outside anymore,” says Uncle Donny. I didn’t tell him that he’s the one who opened it last time. I can keep secrets, too.

  “And you got to go see your big brother, huh?”

  “Yup,” I say. I think I understand now why nobody wanted to talk about Theo. What happened to Neddy was so sad that nobody knew what to say. Nobody even knew how to talk about it, and it turned into a secret. But I’m glad it’s not a secret now. I want everything to be right out loud.

  And Uncle Donny is going to help with the hearing so it will go better than last time.

  Uncle Donny says we’ll put up the Slip ’n Slide in the lawn and get the hose out. And Hannah can come over and we’ll play all day. But first we have to eat breakfast. I don’t want to lose sight of Mama for even a second, so she promises to play with us.

  I think it is the best day of my life so far.

  Late that night Mama lies in bed with me and hums “Ave Maria” while I try to fall asleep. She’s afraid I’m going to walk in my sleep, which is funny because I wasn’t even asleep last time. But I don’t tell her that because I like having her lie with me and sing to me. Maybe I’m a little afraid that she’s going to leave again, too.

  “Aoife, you’re not even trying to sleep,” she says. Which is true. My eyes are open and everything.

  “I’m not sleepy,” I tell her.

  Mama sighs. “I guess you’ve got a lot on your mind, too,” she says.

  “I know you were upset about Theo’s hearing,” I say. “Are you less upset now?”

  “I’m getting there,” she says. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain to you better about Theo. “Having to send him away—that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it seemed like our only choice. There were people who wanted to put him in jail, and the doctors said it was his best chance to get better. I guess the thought of going through it all again, now—I couldn’t, it was too much. But I’m feeling better now.”

  “I’m glad,” I say. “I don’t want you to be confused.”

  “Baby, I know you’re probably thinking that it’s not fair that you were born into this family.”

  I wasn’t thinking that at all.

  “Maybe there’s some truth to it. But let me tell you, this family, we may fall down sometimes, but we always get back up. We are clever and brave and strong. We can get through anything. And you’re going to be proud to be one of us someday.”

  “Pride is a sin,” I remind her. Mama always says that. Pride, and wrath, and sorrow.

  “Yes, well … even Our Lord Jesus was pretty proud of his family tree,” she teases. I never heard Mama make a joke about Lord Jesus before.

  I’m glad Mama is my mom, because she is the best, and I’m glad Uncle Donny is my uncle. I think I’m even glad Mac is my dad. And I’m glad Theo is my miraculous, real-life brother.

  I’m not sure why I’m crying, but it doesn’t feel bad.

  Mama leans over to kiss the top of my head.

  “Now, close your eyes and go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another big day.”

  That night I dream of playing rocket ships at the Secret Place.

  Dear Theo,

  I got Uncle Donny to help me write this, which he says is called dictatoring. So Uncle Donny is typing on his laptop and I am looking out the window at the cat outside while I talk. Uncle Donny says I can draw you pictures at the end if I want to, after we print it. I think I will draw cats.

  I asked Mama if you were going to come home soon and she said maybe. I said what does Maybe mean and she said it means, Maybe, Aoife. So I think that means she doesn’t know either. I asked Mama if you are going to pass your hearing and she said that’s not how it works. She says some things are not all pass or all fail. Then I asked Uncle Donny and he
said yes. [ED—that is not exactly what happened, but she is the dictator.]

  I think I understand why you didn’t tell everyone the real story about what happened to Neddy all this time. I am sorry that you were sad, but I hope that you are happier now. I don’t think Neddy would want you to be sad forever.

  I told Hannah that we solved the mystery and she said that she doesn’t want to solve mysteries anymore. I said why and she said because real life is more interesting. She is trying to make the junior dance squad at school now. But I think solving a mystery is much better than junior dance squad, even if Sacred Heart had one, which they don’t. And her cartwheels are still wobbly.

  I asked Uncle Donny if you were going to come home and he said, he will if we have anything to do with it. I said will that make us a family? And he said we already are a family.

  I miss you. When you come, we can go show Doctor Pearlman that I was right all along. And we can go light candles in church and maybe we will see another miracle.

  Love Your Real-Life Sister,

  Aoife Joan

  Epilogue

  We’re out away from all the houses, and it’s getting dark except for a line of pink right at the edge of the sky. By the time me, Mama, and Uncle Donny park in the parking lot, the sun has gone all the way down. After this just the three of us are going to go out to dinner—even though we’re on a budget!—to meet Uncle Donny’s special friend, Simon. But first we are going to the lake.

  Mac is waiting for us in front of the beach, leaning against his beat-up truck.

  “Hi, Mac!” I say, running towards him.

  “Hey there, Alfie!” He picks me up under the armpits and swings me around in a circle before setting me back on my feet.

  He walks over to Mama, who gives him a kiss. I notice he doesn’t say anything to Uncle Donny, who clears his throat and looks away. Mac coughs into his sleeve.

  “Well, what do you think, Alfie, you want to try these here sparklers?” he says. He holds out a pack of something in his hand, and I squeal and spin round and round in circles because I’m so excited. I’ve never had a sparkler of my own before.

  He offers me what looks like a skinny gray cattail, the kind that grow around the other side of the lake. I don’t see how this is going to be a firework you can hold, like Uncle Donny said, but I take one, and so does Mama, who gives one to Uncle Donny, who mutters something to her under his breath but then takes it. Mac takes out his lighter—it’s a new one, I notice, but I don’t ask where his other one went.

  “Hold the far end, Alfie,” he tells me. “Watch your fingers.”

  “Be careful,” says Uncle Donny.

  Then Mac strikes the lighter—tick tick, snick—and he holds the flame up to the end. Nothing happens at first. Then the sparkler hisses, and all at once I see the little mini firework.

  “Whee!” I turn around and around, and the firework glows on the end like Tinkerbell.

  “Watch out, Aoife,” says Mama. “It’s hot; it can burn you. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” she adds, to Mac. I don’t care because I’m twirling in circles and the sparkler is twirling with me.

  “Look, Aoife,” says Uncle Donny, and when I turn around, he’s got one lit up, too. He writes with it like it’s a pen, D-O-N-O-V-A-N. The light stays in the air for a second so you can read the letters. Mine is white, but his is kind of blueish, and when Mama lights hers, it’s pink.

  “We should always do this after the Fourth,” says Mac, lighting his own until it pops and hisses and lights up the same color as mine. “Less crowded, and cheaper, too.”

  Mama comes to stand next to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. We watch our sparklers burn down, looking out over the lake. The sky is full of stars, and you can hardly tell a star from a sparkler.

  “Happy eighth of July, Aoife,” says Mama.

  Just then Mac shoots off a bottle rocket, and we all turn to watch it streak out straight up, making a high-pitched noise. Then it explodes with a bang that makes us all jump. Then the firework turns into smoke and disappears.

  “Someone’s probably calling the cops right now,” says Uncle Donny. I hope not, because it was scary when Mr. Rutledge called them on me last time.

  “Just one more,” says Mac. He aims it out over the water this time, winking at me. “For Teddy.”

  Mama doesn’t say anything, and neither does Uncle Donny. But I stand next to Mac and watch him light the fuse.

  At the edge of the lake, I can see a shape in the darkness. At first it’s a blob, then it’s round and on all fours, with a big head.

  “Here we go,” says Mac.

  But I am looking at the outline as it turns into a bear. I think—I think it’s Teddy.

  “Here we go!”

  I cover my ears and the firework jumps out of the bottle and zips out across the sky.

  Teddy doesn’t wave, or come any closer. All the fur is standing up along his arms, but as I watch, it starts to sink into his skin. His legs get longer and the fur disappears.

  I take my hands away just in time to hear the pop of the rocket as it lights up in a shower of sparks. You can see the reflection in the lake, just like Mama said. It looks like a dream.

  I watch Teddy’s ears sink into his head and he grows thick, dark hair that curls around his head. He’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and bright-red sneakers. He’s a little boy again. He is glowing again, so bright that I can barely look at him.

  I wish Mr. Rutledge could see him again.

  Then Teddy turns into a cloud of fireflies, around the edges first, and then all the way through. And the fireflies fly away.

  “Beautiful,” says Mama, stroking my hair.

  Then I run and get another sparkler, and spin and spin until I think I’m going to throw up.

  Author Biography

  Eliza Nellums is a member of the Metro Wriders and has a Masters degree from the University of Michigan. Raised in the Detroit suburbs, Elizabeth now lives with her cat in Washington, DC where she is the manager of a grants program at the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation. Her short story “Changelings” was published in the anthology Magical. All That’s Bright and Gone is her debut novel.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Nellums

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

  Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

  Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.

  ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-237-9 ISBN (ePub): 978-1-64385-238-6

  Cover design by Melanie Sun Book design by Jennifer Canzone

  Printed in the United States.

  www.crookedlanebooks.com

  Crooked Lane Books 34 West 27th St., 10th Floor New York, NY 10001

  First Edition: December 2019

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