Mackie was carrying Terabithia down the stairs. He liked to be held sometimes when he first woke up, as if leaving a nap was a little like leaving the womb. I couldn’t blame him.
“Dada! Dada! Dada! Dada!” My heart twinged until she could pass him over. I noticed her grimace of relief. Terabithia was getting big. He couldn’t have been easy for her to carry these days.
I gave him a huge smooch on the cheek, so long and so loud it turned into a raspberry, as he giggled hysterically. “Hi!” he said, waving up at me after I set him down.
“Hi!” I said back. “Can you say hi to these people, Terabithia?”
“Hi, Shef,” he said.
“Hi, Boo.” Shep kissed him on top of his hair.
“Hi!” he said to Coco and Mark.
“That’s my sister Coco and my brother-in-law, Mark.”
Terabithia toddled over to Coco. He grabbed a handful of her hair but didn’t pull it. Our hair was similar except Coco’s was nicer. “Caca,” he attempted.
Mark and Shep stifled nervous giggles.
“Coco,” I repeated for him, slowly and encouragingly.
“Caca,” Terabithia repeated. Um, okay. Well, they could figure that out later.
Coco put her hand gently, tentatively, on his back. No doubt she’d held a lot of babies in Africa, but this would be a huge new learning curve for her. Maybe I could help.
Terabithia pivoted, releasing her hair and running over to where Mark was sitting on the couch. Terabithia gave him an intense stare. Mark laughed. He would have stood up, but his height might have intimidated the little guy. “I’m guessing he hasn’t seen a lot of other people around here with skin color like his?”
Mackie and Jeff exchanged a glance. “Around town, here and there, but we don’t have a lot of friends who are African American,” Mackie said apologetically.
Mark nodded. Terabithia bonked Mark on the knee, testing him. Mark reached out to tickle him, and he scooted away, shrieking, “No tickle!” We all laughed. A few seconds later, Terabithia was back for more.
Like the solar heat factory he was, Terabithia melted their hearts in ten seconds flat. Mark and Coco wore the same gorgeous, sunny smiles on their faces as they had on the night of their return party . . . as though this was another kind of homecoming.
While Terabithia played with his musical keyboard, we adults spoke quietly.
“I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you,” Coco said to Mackie and Jeff. “You’ve lost so much in the past year. I don’t want this to feel like another loss for you.” Her face blanched as if she’d said the wrong thing.
“We’d be lying if we said it wasn’t one. But we keep reminding ourselves that Terabithia stands to gain so much. We’ve asked ourselves over and over what Sullivan would have wanted. We’ll never know what her preference would have been. But we’re pretty sure that this is what’s best for Terabithia—a forever home, with parents who can give him love and energy and help him grow. Without worrying about getting stuck on the floor due to arthritis,” Mackie joked, but her smile was wan.
“Or having a massive heart attack,” Jeff added, not smiling at all.
We sat there awkwardly for a moment, taking it in. There was no perfect situation. Everything felt strange and painful, and it had since Sullivan’s death. And it would for a long time. But we would all get through it together. There was no other choice.
Terabithia was swaying back and forth to what sounded like a kazoo version of “The More We Get Together.” He looked over his left shoulder at us and grinned, happy to see so many people he loved—and some nice new ones—in the same place. It was important to let him be a child, and Mark and Coco were the ones who had the best shot at doing that for him.
Back at our house, I thought about the light in my sister’s and brother-in-law’s faces, about how Terabithia had shone it right back. Coco and Mark had gone upstairs to the guest room, exhausted, after a wonderful Thai take-out dinner.
“We adore him, Do,” Coco had said. “But how are you feeling about this? Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
I wasn’t, really. But I was convinced more than ever after today that it was the right thing. I had looked at Shep and saw his jaw clenched with tension. And hope. He really, really wanted things to work out with Coco and Mark. Which meant he wasn’t going to have a change of heart or make some big gesture to me or with me. I tried to be honest without dissuading her. “It’s going to be hard for me, but it’s for the best.” The words had gone sour in my mouth. I had said them and thought them so much.
“I know,” Coco said. “Mark and I are going to make it as easy for everyone as possible. We’ll come here, you all will come there . . . we’ll figure it out. Nothing seems far after you’ve been on a seven-hour bus ride with no bathroom and live chickens at your feet on a flooded road in Africa.”
Mark had been very quiet. He was trying to be respectful of this moment between us. I imagined he was also exhausted. When we finished the dishes, I gave them an out. “Shep and I are going to turn in pretty early, but you guys stay up as late as you want. Coco, you know where the movies are.”
“Actually,” Mark said eagerly, “we’re pretty beat from that early drive. I think I’ll turn in.”
“Me too,” Coco agreed.
Shep and I headed up soon after. I slipped under the covers and lay on my side, facing him, lost in thought.
“You’ll always be Terabithia’s favorite aunt,” he said, rubbing my arm. My eyes welled up with tears. I didn’t want to be his aunt. I wanted to be his mother. And Shep knew that. “You would have been his favorite aunt if Sullivan was still alive, and you will be now. And you and Coco are so similar. I’m sure he feels comfortable because he sees a lot of you in her.”
“I’m unbelievably excited for them,” I said, trying to convince myself. “I really am. So excited.”
Shep kissed a salty tear off my lip. “Of course you are,” he murmured. “I am too.”
—TWENTY—
February 2009
A few weeks later, once the paperwork had been expedited and the home study had been done, the unofficial adoption ceremony took place at Mackie and Jeff’s. I tried not to think about how quick and easy it had been for Mark and Coco since they had money. Instead, I focused on how radiant they looked and how squee-worthy Terabithia was in his minijeans and blue dinosaur shirt that read I’M THE BOSS AROUND HERE.
Mackie and Jeff placed Terabithia in Coco’s arms as part of the symbolic ceremony. I could tell that when they looked at Coco, they recognized a little of Sullivan’s generous spirit in her, which must have helped as much as anything could at that moment. They would see Terabithia a lot less now, but my sister promised to visit us often, and she made sure Mackie and Jeff knew they were welcome whenever they wanted to make the trip.
With all the excitement, Coco and Mark felt that it would be best to take Terabithia straight home to start the acclimation process as soon as possible. We sent them off with a Lady Baltimore cake I’d baked to keep their strength up and a car full of toys and blankets that smelled like Terabithia’s yummy baby scent.
After I clicked Terabithia’s little seat belt and kissed him goodbye, I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood. The sides of his mouth curling up a teeny bit, he looked at me with those heavy, trusting eyelids that meant he was ready for his nap but knew you would be there when he woke up. He’ll be okay because Coco and Mark will be there, I reassured myself.
“What will you all do now?” Shep asked Mackie and Jeff when we were no longer in waving distance of the car. “Could we take you out to lunch?”
Mackie shook her head. “We planned to meet friends for bridge at noon.”
“Just, you know, to have something scheduled,” Jeff added.
“Good idea,” Shep and I said in unison.
“Okay, then, we’ll see you soon.” I kissed them both on the cheek. I wanted to get away from them, from everyone. I felt like I was suffocating.
>
Shep’s phone jangled. He shoved his hand in his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Excuse me a second.” His face was expressionless as he walked down the driveway.
“Want us to wait?” Mackie asked.
“No, no, I’m sure he’ll only be a minute. Go ahead and break a leg at bridge.”
Jeff gave me a little half smile. They looked like they couldn’t wait to escape the scene of the morning either. My heart ached for them. Hell, my heart just plain ached.
Shep was pacing. The call went on a while. I was tracing my finger through the dirt in the back window of my car, writing “D hearts S.” It had been a while since I’d cleaned the car. Or the house.
When the call ended, Shep stared at the phone for a moment, shaking his head slowly. Then, equally slowly, he walked back to me. His face was white.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, a quick jerk of the head.
“Who was that?”
Shep’s jaw set as he gazed back at me. “Work,” he said, blinking.
“Do you need to go in?”
“Not . . . right . . . now,” he said. “Maybe later. Probably tomorrow for a bit.”
We got in the car. I was having this strange, unfamiliar feeling. It was sort of like hearing a raccoon rooting around in the trash cans outside your window. When you went to chase the raccoon away, he was gone.
I looked at Shep’s gorgeous face—the face I loved so much—and those beautiful eyes, usually so warm, were now as empty as the windows in a Hopper painting. I realized what was bugging me: Shep was definitely lying to me.
Through gritted teeth, Shep suggested that we should probably do something too. “How about a trip to Little Duck Park?”
I nodded. Some fresh air might help.
From the top of the hill, it was comforting to see how far the blanket of branches extended out into the distance. They were bare, but they were still beautiful. I wondered if Terabithia was sleeping peacefully on the car ride or if my sister was trying to distract him with the hanging elephant toy whose legs stretched when you pulled on it. Shep slipped his hand into mine. “C’mon,” he said after a long time. “Let’s go get some food.”
Neither of us felt like eating until the evening, though. I paged through all the silly tabloids he had preemptively bought to take my mind off things, and by five o’clock, after he tried to make me dinner but burned the last of our tomato sauce, we decided to order takeout from Thai Village again so we could just call it a day afterward.
“Early-bird special,” he joked, shoveling noodles onto my plate.
“Stop.” I put up my hand. I probably wouldn’t even eat half of the small portion. Shep picked at his own helping. He may have been remembering when he’d once helped me at Terabithia’s bath time and how Boo’s stomach pooched out when he was sitting in the tub, intently focused on pushing a floating airplane around in the inch or two of water. I smiled thinking about how Terabithia loved pulling out the plug and never seemed to figure out (or care) that all the water started to disappear when he did.
We stuck the rest of the food in the fridge and went up to bed. I was so exhausted that I expected to be out like a light. As soon as I lay down, I thought about how I’d cried myself to sleep the night Sullivan died. Snap out of it, I commanded. These two nights are not at all alike. Back then, Terabithia had tragically lost his mother. Tonight, he was with his new one, and a wonderful new father, beginning a whole new life filled with love.
Shep was gone the next morning when I woke up. He left a note saying, “Gotta go take care of something. Call you later. Marvel B’s for lunch? Banana bread pudding!” he wrote, underlining it three times.
Maybe I’d imagined things yesterday. It had been tough for all of us.
I took a hot shower and wrapped myself in my robe. When he came home, I might greet him at the door with something he liked even better than banana bread pudding.
I plopped onto the couch, watching the end of a rom-com so delightfully bad and predictable that I enjoyed every last second of it. I luxuriated in the feeling of having nowhere to run to. No jam to make, no empty canvas to sit in front of, no Terabithia to rush to see . . . okay, maybe it would take me a little while to get back into the whole luxuriating thing, but I knew that if I put my mind to it, I could luxuriate again. I had very strong luxuriation genes.
By one o’clock, and still no word from Shep, I was starting to feel like my brain had a stomachache from all the candy I’d been feeding it. If I had to watch one more doe-eyed ingenue muster the moxie to fight for her beloved, I was going to need a drink. Times had really changed since the days when the highlight of my month was watching the twenty-four-hour Nora Ephron marathon on TV.
Where was Shep?
At two thirty, my phone bleeped. A text from him said, “Caught up. Go ahead to Marvel B’s without me. Call you when I’m done.” I sighed. I had eaten every snack left in the house, so there would be no Marvel B’s. But it definitely was time to go out. I shlumped down into the sunroom, where Geraldine was womanning the library for me. “How’s it going?”
“It’s been dead. I’m plowing through The Help, though. It’s really good.”
I was grateful that she didn’t say what she was probably thinking: a lot of people still didn’t know whether they could trust me—or a faithful volunteer—to be there.
For the first time in weeks, I checked the Secret Santa box. A copy of Merry Hall. The note card tucked inside read MACKIE O’REILLY. Someone knew that Mackie wanted to take up gardening now that Terabithia was gone. And this book, with its hilarious, lovably cranky narrator and his quirky little British town and his grumpy, excellent gardener would be a perfect distraction for her and encouragement in her new hobby. Tears sprang to my eyes.
“What do you want to do?” Geraldine asked when I replaced the top of the box and laid the book aside to pass along for Mackie. I pulled a bookmark out of the desk drawer with a Mary Cassatt painting of fresh-picked flowers in a vase on the front and wrote “Tender new shoots will bloom” on the other side.
“Let’s read,” I said.
“Do you want to talk about what’s going on with Shep?”
“Nothing’s going on with Shep.”
“If you say so. Have you heard from Kendra yet?”
“No, she still won’t return my calls. I’ve stopped by her house, but she never seems to be home. I don’t feel comfortable storming Benton’s place to see if she’s there. I sent her an engagement card and two long letters apologizing. I guess she’s really pissed at me. I can’t believe I don’t even know the story yet.”
“I’ll tell you if you want,” Geraldine offered.
My stomach fell. “No, thanks.”
Kendra and Geraldine had become acquaintances because of me and closer friends because of trading hours at the library when I needed backup. Now Geraldine knew the story of Kendra’s romance, and I didn’t? Even though I worked with her and Benton? I buried myself in the pages of the new Sophie Kinsella. I didn’t think I could handle any more sadness or soul-searching at that moment.
When Shep came back that night, he wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked.
“Sorry about lunch.”
“Did you have to take care of something at the site?” I helped.
“Yes, exactly.”
“What?”
“Oh, there was this project that I thought I might be signing on for, but now I’m not.”
“I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re pacing like a caged animal, and you haven’t looked me in the eye. We don’t usually keep secrets from each other—”
“Oh, really?” he cut me off. Now he was meeting my gaze defiantly.
I backed down. He was right to be angry. I had kept a big secret for a long time. Though it did seem like an unfair time to bring it up. “I just want to
know if I can help,” I whispered, reaching out for him. He sank down on the couch, raking his hands through his hair.
“When you first told me about Terabithia, I was hurting for you and with you. I know how much he means to you. I didn’t realize it was so much that you were willing to risk everything for him. I remember how bad it was when Sullivan died—when I was starting to get to know you—and I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have Terabithia move away after that.
“But for the past few months, I’ve been feeling like a second thought. I hate the way that sounds, and I hate complaining. But I honestly don’t know if you want to marry me. If you see a future with me.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why aren’t we planning it? Why aren’t we talking about it?”
“Let’s talk about it. I’m here, Shep. I want to marry you. I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted.”
Shep snorted.
My thoughts flashed to the abandoned calendar under my bed. I hadn’t touched it in ages. In a few more months, it would be May, which might be the end of my reproductive system.
“And what if I don’t want to have kids for several years?”
Several? “Is that what you’re thinking right now?”
“I don’t see it as such a rush.”
“If you want a biological child, the chances are about to go way down with me . . . and adoption usually takes years.”
“Enough already!” Shep snapped. “I’m so sick of hearing about this. You are obsessed.”
I reared back like he’d doused me with cold water. “I’m not obsessed. I just know what I want.”
“What do you want? Where do I fit in? Or do I?” Shep grabbed my arms. I gasped from surprise. It didn’t hurt, though. It felt amazing, as if he had the strength I couldn’t find in myself. Our faces were so close I could almost kiss him. I wanted everything to be all right again.
A surge of courage rose up in me. Or maybe it was fear. I hadn’t wanted to tell him this way, but there was no other choice. Time had run out, both literally and figuratively. I could suddenly see that clearly. I touched his face. “I want you. And a baby. Not in five years. As soon as possible. I want to find a way to have that and still keep running the library and making the people of Chatsworth happy. I want us to be happy too.”
The Lending Library Page 22