“Dodie, is that you?” Jeff called as I was about to vault the neighbor’s fence.
My face burned. “Um, yes.”
“Is everything okay? We weren’t expecting you today.”
“I was going to visit Terabithia, but then I remembered about—” I stopped before telling the lie. Of course I hadn’t forgotten about Jed and Eileen’s visit. I came clean. “I was spying on Jed and Eileen,” I confessed, ashamed.
Jeff’s brow knitted. “They’re about to leave. Why don’t you sit in the kitchen, and I’ll send Mackie in when they’re gone?”
“Okay.”
When Mackie came in, I tried to hold my tongue. “How did it go?” I asked, but then the words slipped out: “I thought you weren’t going to introduce him.”
“Well, we weren’t, but then we would have needed a babysitter, and—”
“I would have been happy to babysit.”
“I know you would have, but . . .” Mackie raised her eyebrows. “More to the point, what were you doing standing outside the window? Why were you spying?”
“I couldn’t wait to find out what happened, but I knew you’d said it would be too many of us for me to come, so I thought I would . . . observe.”
“Dodie . . .” Mackie trailed off, then stopped herself. “I know this is hard for you too.”
“Mackie, I don’t think I can bear the idea of Terabithia being somewhere else. I’m sorry—I know it’s even harder for you as his grandparents than it is for me—but . . . I really want to adopt Terabithia myself,” I blurted. “What do you think?”
Mackie blinked quickly twice. “Wow, Dodie. Wow. That’s . . . that’s a lot to take in. We’ve already started down this path with Jed and Eileen, for one thing. And I don’t know if . . .” She trailed off, then seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. “Let me talk to Jeff about it and get back to you, okay?”
“Of course,” I said. But what I was thinking was, Really? You know me so well. You’ve seen how much I care about him. What else do you need? Then again, it was unfair and impatient of me to look at it that way. This was the only child of their only child. And there would never be another now.
—TWELVE—
July 2008
“Hey, Dodie?” Geraldine said. “I’m looking for The Good Thief. It was a New York Times Notable Book last year. Do you have it?”
“Yeah, it’s in Fiction,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” she corrected me politely.
“It’s by Hannah Tinti. Did you look under T in Fiction?”
“Yep. No sign of it.”
“Hmm, I don’t think anyone took it out, at least not while I was here. Let me check, though.” I pulled a stack of library cards off the corner of my desk. Thumbing through them, seeing the dark-red date stamps—some from the lending library, some from other libraries where the books had lived in years past—made me smile.
When I realized that there were eleven more stacks of library cards nestled in the drawer, I stopped smiling.
“I can’t find Netherland either, even though I know Lula returned it last week,” Roberta added. “Do you know if someone checked it out again?”
I didn’t. I flipped uselessly back through the library cards. I’d thought my loosey-goosey system of stamping and collecting the library cards and then roughly remembering who had which book had worked fine. Apparently not.
“Here,” Elmira said, materializing with a book in each hand.
“Hey, Elmira. I didn’t even know you were here,” I said.
“I got here about five minutes ago. Anyway, I heard your conversation, and I found those two books you were talking about. One was on the random book table, and one was misshelved in Narrative Nonfic.” She handed them to Roberta and Geraldine. I stamped their cards and gave them back the books, feeling a little miffed at my own confusion.
“Thanks, Elmira. What would the library do without you?”
She beamed like the winner of a sweepstakes. My heart twisted in my chest. It took so little to make her happy. So little. And still, that emotionally celibate mother of hers kept letting her down. She had put Elmira in summer school even though her grades were some of the best in the class. That way, she and her equally lovely husband didn’t have to be bothered entertaining Elmira when they could be lounging by the country club pool with her little brother tucked into childcare there. Or, in the case of Elmira’s father, yelling at office underlings on his cell phone by the country club pool. “Maybe we need a better cataloging system,” I mused.
“Or a cataloging system, period?” she joked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I conceded. “Any ideas?”
The spark in her eyes reignited. “What if we created an online catalog? And got a bar code reader? I can google how to link them. I know you don’t really like using the electronic one, but it would make stuff a lot easier here.”
“You’re probably right. But I would still want my stamper.”
“No one’s taking away your stamper,” Kendra said as she walked in and sat on the edge of the circulation desk. “Hi, Elmira. Trying to convince Dodie to enter the twenty-first century?”
“The stamper’s not going anywhere,” I announced.
“But it’ll be obsolete once you have everything set up electronically.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Explain,” Kendra directed me. Elmira looked uncomfortable, like her little soul was warring between my romantic vision of a library and the practical reality of modern tech-savvy times.
“It’s like . . . well, it’s like . . . the United Kingdom,” I sputtered.
“How so?” Kendra humored me.
“The bar code reader is . . . um . . . Parliament. It’s a balanced system. It makes sense. It’s more . . . newfangled. But there’s still room for the . . . um . . . monarch.”
“So the stamper is the queen of England?” Kendra clarified.
“Right.”
“Which one?” she asked.
“Maybe QE II. Although I don’t know, Victoria’s always been a favorite . . . it’s so hard to choo—”
Kendra and Elmira were cracking up. Oh. She was making fun of me. They both were. I blushed, tightening my grip on my stamper protectively.
“Anyway.” I changed the subject. “Elmira, would you be willing to help me out with getting the electronic catalog set up?”
“Yeah! Can I start now? I don’t have to be home for another hour.”
I pushed my laptop her way. “Sure. Do you want to start by entering in the names of the books, and then we’ll figure the rest out later?” I got her settled at the table with a glass of cold water, and she started typing away, listing books from memory. It was a relief to give her something to do, a reason to be out of her house. I was equally glad to be focusing on the library rather than what Mackie and Jeff would say to my spur-of-the-moment confession and offer. I read a few pages of the Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh’s Being Peace and tried not to fixate.
A few endless days later, Mackie called and asked me to come over.
“Jeff and I talked in detail about what you asked,” she said when we were seated on the couch. “And we’re honored that you would think of adopting Terabithia. It means so much to us. And it would have meant the world to Sullivan. But right now, we feel that we need to continue to explore Jed and Eileen’s adoption.”
I swallowed hard. “May I ask why?”
“Well, we know your intentions are good, but this is a huge thing to ask of someone. Jed and Eileen have been very forthright about the fact that they tried for ten years to have children and couldn’t, and they want to be parents more than anything. They have been preparing for a child for a long time now. For the child’s care, for school. They are ready to dive in. Whereas are you sure you want a child?”
“Yes,” I said fervently.
“But do you want one right now? Are you ready?”
I frowned. She’s asking about money. And I couldn’t honestly sa
y yes right then and there. Things had been tight. I was covering my bills and the library’s, but barely.
Seeing my expression, she continued gently. “Do you want to do this on your own? You’re in a new relationship. Hopefully it will work out. But think of the pressure it would put on that relationship to introduce a child. And if it doesn’t work out—not that we have any reason to think it won’t—are you prepared to be a single mother?”
“Sullivan did it.”
“That’s true. That’s what she chose. She knew that it might make it harder for her to meet someone and that for the foreseeable future she would be putting Terabithia’s needs before her own. Is that what you would choose?”
I was silent. It was a lot to consider. And obviously I hadn’t thought through every aspect. But I certainly would now. One thing was clear, though: Mackie and Jeff were not going to wait around for me to figure it out. They were moving forward with Jed and Eileen. And it would be wrong of me not to be supportive of that choice. Especially for Terabithia. I sighed. “So what happens now?”
“We’re going to start the adoption paperwork.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s a good thing, right?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, good then.”
There was an awkward pause. She cleared her throat.
I let her off the hook. “I should go. Thanks for your honesty.”
“Thank you for loving Boo and for such a generous offer,” Mackie said, patting my shoulder. I gave Terabithia a hug and headed home.
As I was pouring myself a big, fat glass of wine, Anoop rang the bell. He had a huge grin on his face.
“Anoop, I am so happy for you!” I said with my first real smile in days. “I’ve been hoping to be here when you delivered the mail so I could congratulate you.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fairisle,” he said. “She is a lovely girl, and I am lucky she said yes.”
“So modest. She’s a lucky girl herself. Your smile is evidence of that.”
Anoop was shaking his head. “The smile is for you. The postcard is for you.” He handed it to me with relish, and then hopped down the stairs two at a time.
The front was a sketch of a plane. Aside from my address, the back had only two words: “Coming home!”
“The great Coco returns!” I told Shep over pineapple shrimp fried rice that night.
He grinned. “Awesome! When?”
“A couple weeks from now.”
“I can’t wait to meet her and Mark.”
“What do you think about meeting the rest of my family? Will you come with me?”
Shep nodded, dumping more rice from the pan onto his plate and mine. “Of course.”
A shiver of excitement washed over me. This was a big deal. “Yay!”
“I know! I can’t wait to get out of town.”
Huh. That wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. Although it was true for me, too, after Mackie’s response. “Really? Chatsworth’s summer charms not doing it for you?”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t know—it’s been stressful lately.”
“At work?”
Shep’s face did a weird twitching thing. He paused for a little too long. “Yep, at work.”
“Is something else wrong?”
“Nah, it’s just dumb stuff.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Well, if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here,” I said, fishing a little bit.
Shep gave me a hug. “Thanks, Do. I’m good, though, really. And excited about the homecoming weekend.”
Maybe it was my relief that he’d said yes to coming with me without even thinking about it. Or the idea that it wouldn’t be fair to send him into my chatty family without knowing our history. It was time to tell him about Not Dad. “Shep, you know how whenever I tell you a story about Dad’s kindness, you always smile at me and say I’m a chip off the old block?”
Shep smiled. “You are.”
“Well, I’m not really a chip off his block.”
“Sure you are. And you’re modest just like him too.”
“No, really. Dad is not my . . . I mean, Walter is not my real dad.”
Shep’s eyes widened.
“He’s my stepdad.”
“Oh.” He was watching my expression carefully. “So, who’s your real dad?”
“He left when I was four.”
Shep didn’t respond for a full minute.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
“No. But I’m surprised you didn’t tell me sooner. Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to feel pressure when things were new with us.”
“What do you mean, pressure?”
“Pressure to stay . . . so that you wouldn’t hurt me.”
Shep actually laughed. “Do, that’s not a thing.”
“Sure it is. You’re a nice guy, and if you knew I’d had this feeling of abandonment before, you might stick around even if you were not that interested.”
“What, like forever? No. That’s definitely not something I would do. Or anyone else I know.”
“So you are interested?” I joked, already desperate to change the subject.
“Not really. I’m just here for the pastries.”
I swatted him.
“I do have some questions,” he said. “Have you seen him since he left?”
“No, he’s not in our lives. Hasn’t been.”
“Did you ever want to go talk to him? See what he had to say for himself?”
“Not really. I was already rejected by him once. I don’t need to relive that feeling.”
Shep looked pensive, as if he was adding things up in his head. “That must have done a number on you.”
“Yeah, it did. It’s hard for me to trust anyone I’m in a relationship with,” I admitted.
Shep took my hands. “That’s understandable. But you can trust me. And you can talk to me about anything, too, okay?”
I was silent. Maybe I should tell him about Terabithia. No. What was the point now? “Thank you.”
“Yeah, sure. Now tell me more about the house you grew up in. Will there be awesome boy band posters on your walls? Will I be put in my own room, or will your parents let us share your canopy bed?”
“You sure it’s a good idea to leave Shep with Maddie right after introducing them?” Mom asked, glancing into the den, where it looked like the two of them were having a Biggest Hand Gesture contest.
I grinned, stirring the hot spinach-and-artichoke dip until the cream cheese got all melty. “It’s not as if I have a choice. I can’t get a word in edgewise. Once Shep commented about whether the Yankees always faked crappy play at the beginning of the year to throw off the competition, Maddie was off and running about the Red Sox being bums . . . I was not about to get in the middle of that. They were making each other laugh, so I don’t think it will get violent.”
The doorbell rang. “Co!” I cried, hurtling to the front hall and flinging open the door.
“Do!” she shouted. “Mad!”
Soon Coco was in my arms. My baby sister! Through happy tears I could see that her hair was the longest it had ever been; it almost reached her waist, and it was thick and streaked with sun. When I finished hugging her, I threw my arms around Mark. His hair was longer too. Dad had come to join the crowded hugging party. Shep stood in the doorway from the den, smiling and letting us have our moment.
“How are you guys? Tell us everything!” Maddie demanded as we all headed for the couches.
“So you’re Shep,” Coco said, her eyes glimmering as she looked back and forth between us.
“That’s right. Great to finally meet you both.”
Later, as Shep and I watched Coco and Mark at the party, he murmured into my ear, “She looks different from the pictures you showed me. They both do.”
Coco was gesturing with a drink. Her bright-blue dress showed off the color of her eyes, a
nd her hair was pulled off her face with two bobby pins. The high heat in the room had caused a few tendrils to escape. Mark’s hand was resting gently on her back just above her waist; their connection was palpable even though neither of them was looking at the other.
Coco caught my eye and winked. I attempted to wink back. Watching her stifle a laugh at my ineptitude, I noticed that around her beautiful eyes was a set of tiny new lines radiating outward from the corners. Mark had a matching pair. The lines were so fine that they would have been imperceptible to anyone but a family member. Nonetheless, they were there, telling stories we had not yet heard of their experiences out in the jungle. Shep, my mother, everyone was right. They had changed.
There was something else too. Before their trip, Coco had always had a way of being charming and meek at the same time. When she told a story—and she was a great storyteller—she always gestured inward, toward her body, as if trying to hold in a secret or—more likely—as if ever so slightly embarrassed to be the center of attention.
Now, even though her shoulders sagged a little with jet lag, she swept the air with her fingers, making big circles outward as she described the terrain in this or that country or this or that person they had helped. It was Africa that had given her this new sense of confidence. It was also Mark.
He cocked his head to listen to what my dad was saying. Mark was an excellent listener. When Coco looked up at him and smiled, it seemed as though they were sharing a secret. My breath caught in my throat.
“You okay?” Shep asked. I nodded. I had almost forgotten he was standing right next to me.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said hastily, my voice rising an octave.
I missed Terabithia so badly. I thought about how he would reach up toward the windows until I lifted him and he could play with the shutters, babbling, “Wow wow wow wow,” each time he opened and closed them. How many more times would we get to do that? How many more times would I get to make him giggle until he got the hiccups?
That night, the guys slept in the bedrooms while Maddie, Coco, and I had a sleepover on the couches downstairs. But first, we feasted on the leftovers—mostly the sweet ones.
“These petit fours are amazing,” Coco said, putting one in her mouth from a plate with half a dozen more on it.
The Lending Library Page 15