Picturing Alyssa

by Alison Lohans

  While Rachel played it on her clarinet, Alyssa sang to the class.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The phone rang again. Alyssa glared at it. Only a minute ago, Brooklynne had phoned. She’d called Alyssa an extremely rude name and then hung up. Probably now she’d thought of some other awful thing to say. Mackenzie had said that Brooklynne was suspended from school for a week. Couldn’t she think of anything better to do?

  Mom was vacuuming, so she wouldn’t hear the phone. Ethan was playing soccer with Zach and some other boys. Dad was at the college.

  The phone kept ringing. Alyssa sighed and picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Is that Alyssa?” It was a man’s voice.

  “Yes,” she said cautiously.

  “It’s Warren Stanley,” he continued. “A while ago you asked about going to another peace march. There will be one this Saturday, downtown. Are you still interested?”

  “Um, yes.” It had been a while since she’d thought about the war.

  “Great!” Warren Stanley said. “If anyone in your house needs a ride, just let me know.”

  After hanging up, Alyssa turned on the news channel. A journalist in the Middle East had been kidnapped. There were shots of helicopters flying over poor villages. Somebody who worked for an oil company insisted the war had nothing to do with America wanting more oil. Alyssa almost walked away, but then a commercial for fertilizer came on. The picture showed wide open fields of green wheat. It didn’t look that different from Iowa.…

  It had been so long since the family had gone out of town. “Mom?” she yelled when the vacuum cleaner stopped. “Can we go to that reunion?”

  Mom came out to the living room. Her new hairstyle, with its highlights, made her look perky. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “Dad can’t go. He’ll be teaching a summer course, and Ethan’s already signed up for soccer camp. But you and I could go.”

  “Yay!” Elated, she ran to give Mom a hug. “Oh, Warren Stanley phoned. There’s going to be a peace march on Saturday. Want to go?”

  Mom smiled. “Sorry. I have so much catching up to do around this place. When I start teaching again I want everything in good shape. Actually, what I plan to do this Saturday is to clean out —” her voice faltered. “— the spare room. You can go if you’d like. Maybe Rachel and Lori will be interested.”

  There hadn’t been enough time to make another poster. Rachel was carrying their old one. Walking beside her, Alyssa felt so light in her pink shoes that she almost imagined she could fly. She made herself walk steadily, but she really wanted to dance in the buoyant pink shoes.

  “How come you’re in such a good mood?” Rachel asked.

  “Because.”

  “Because your mom’s better? Because of your report? Or is it because Brooklynne got suspended?” Rachel’s frizzy hair bounced as she walked. All around them were the sounds of talking, walking feet, and a pair of tapping drumsticks that echoed off the buildings.

  Alyssa shrugged. “All of it.” Yes, Mom was better. And Mrs. Fraser had given her an A+ for her genealogy project. It might have had something to do with Mr. Bergman listening to the presentations, but one way or the other, now she’d be giving the presentation again — in front of the whole school. Yes, it was nice having Brooklynne gone from class for a while, but the really important thing was that she’d stood up to Brooklynne, and had told Brooklynne’s dad and Mr. Bergman. She’d done it herself, instead of depending on Mom or Dad to do it for her.

  “What do we want?” yelled the man with the megaphone.

  “PEACE!” everybody else yelled.

  “When do we want it?”

  “NOW!”

  When it was quieter, Rachel persisted, “Because what?”

  “Because you’re still my friend. And because now I feel like I’m in a whole big family,” she continued. “Before, it was like just us, and once in a while we’d visit relatives, or they’d come see us. Now I really know where I came from — part of me, anyhow.” Probably she should thank Mrs. Fraser too, because without that assignment, she might not have paid as much attention.

  Rachel’s mom Lori was walking with Warren Stanley, whose white hair waved in the breeze. “Let’s walk with them.” Alyssa darted ahead and fell in step with Warren. “Thank you for phoning,” she said to him.

  Warren Stanley smiled.

  And then Alyssa noticed the TV camera. A photographer had it aimed right at Warren Stanley, and now at her too. Walking beside the photographer was Brooklynne’s mom. Crystal Bayne had the same hard, polished look that Brooklynne had. She didn’t seem particularly happy to be talking to people at the march, but she was doing her job anyhow. She asked Warren Stanley some questions. When he talked about the importance of justice and mercy, and truth and peace and true freedom for all people, Alyssa’s heart glowed.

  “I’m going to be on the news!” Alyssa yelled as soon as she got home. She ran down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the baby’s room.

  Except it wasn’t a baby’s room anymore. The crib and some of the other furniture were gone; so were the teddy bear mobile and the pictures from the walls. The rocking chair was still there. Alyssa sat in it and looked at the cheerful orange butterflies on the curtains.

  Ethan poked his head through the doorway. “You’re going to be on the news? Cool!”

  “Mostly Warren Stanley,” Alyssa said. She held out her feet, with the pink shoes. “These are perfect peace march shoes,” she said.

  Ethan shrugged and came into the room. “I like my bedroom downstairs way better. I hope they let me keep it.”

  Alyssa rocked harder; there was a comforting squeak each time the chair went backwards. “Mom’s been calling this the ‘spare room.’ They probably won’t make you move.”

  “So,” Ethan said. “What do you think made Mom snap out of it like she did?”

  “I dunno.” Alyssa had thought about it several times. “Maybe it had something to do with that old doll.” Alyssa told her brother how Mom had wrecked Susannah when she was his age. “And just being there. Mom remembered that place!”

  It had been such a shock for Mom. Maybe she’d finally been ready to move ahead after mourning the loss of Charlotte. Alyssa’s throat tightened. She probably still had some grieving to do. When Charlotte was born dead it was really sad, but she never thought it would change her life in such a big way. Maybe she’d been terribly wrong. That little kicking person who’d jiggled Mom’s pregnant stomach had been her sister.

  “Hey.” Ethan jostled one of her pink shoes. “Earth to Planet Alyssa. If you’re going to be on the news, we should turn on the TV. I want to record it.”

  “Hello?” Dad came in from teaching his Saturday class. He sounded tired.

  Alyssa went to meet him. “How was your class?” she asked.

  Dad gave her a rueful smile. “Hey there, gorgeous. Do you really want to know?” He ruffled her hair. It used to bother her when her hair was long, but now it felt like a friendly thing to do.

  Alyssa scrutinized her father. He no longer looked tense, the way he had during the past several months. “Yes,” she decided. “I want to know.”

  Dad winked at her. “If my students put in even half as much creativity as you did for your assignment, I’d be happy.”

  Ethan stuck his head out of the spare room. “Lyssa’s going to be on the news — and Warren Stanley too.”

  Alyssa grimaced. “Brooklynne’s mom interviewed Warren Stanley. I bet they’ll only show a tiny bit of it—especially since he said really good things.”

  Dad’s arm came around her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that the TV station was actually there to cover the march.”

  Alyssa heard Mom’s footsteps coming up the basement stairs. “What’s up?” Mom asked.

  Everyone started talking at the same time.

  Mom gestured helplessly. “Hold on a minute!” She turned to Alyssa. “What’s this about TV?”

  When they a
ll sat down together to watch the news, the glowing feeling flooded back into Alyssa’s heart. She wasn’t sure if it was the Inner Light, but she was sure that, somehow, she’d found a way to let her life shine.

  Epilogue

  Alyssa’s ears popped as the plane descended. Rivers glinted in the gently rolling green expanse below them. One in particular looped back and forth in such a winding ribbon that it seemed confused. White stripes across the land must be roads.

  Exhilaration soared through Alyssa, making her wish she could push through the window and parachute down. Except then she wouldn’t land anywhere near the right place.

  Mom patted her knee. “You’re excited. I am too, actually.”

  It had been nice of Dad to suggest that they fly. They’d come a day early so there would be time to explore.

  The plane swooped lower yet. Des Moines came into sight.

  Alyssa tried to memorize everything as their rental car headed west on the interstate. They would be staying in Adams because Chatham had no motels, and the Middle Raccoon River Meetinghouse was completely out in the country. Through the window Alyssa saw cornfields and pastures. When they crossed a bridge that said Middle Raccoon River, she drew in an excited breath.

  It was too early to go to their motel. Looking through tourism guides they’d picked up at the airport, Alyssa found the turnoff for the covered bridges of Madison County. In the little towns along the way, cheerful hollyhocks bordered many of the buildings. The countryside looked so much like what she’d seen in 1931! Masses of wildflowers bloomed by the roadsides. Some of the fence posts were made from crooked tree trunks. When they found the dark red bridges with interesting names, built in the late 1800s, Alyssa shivered. These bridges were there long before Deborah was born … and before George and Martha were born, too!

  Walking around with Mom, taking pictures with the digital camera, Alyssa felt as if she’d come home. With wildflowers everywhere, birds singing, and insects flying over the slow-moving river, these places had the same wondrous feeling as the day when she and Deborah went to the brook with the cousins. That had been seventy-six years ago! It was so hard to believe that Deborah was now an old woman.

  They watched a glorious sunset outside their motel in Adams. As the sky darkened and the first stars came out, fireflies darted above the freshly cut grass.

  “You’re quiet, Lyssa,” Mom remarked.

  Alyssa drew in a long, satisfied breath. “I’m just so happy!”

  In the distance came the sounds of firecrackers. The flag flapped on the flagpole outside the motel. It was the Fourth of July — Great-Aunt Alice’s birthday. Tomorrow, at the reunion, she and Deborah would meet again.

  A gravel road took them north of the interstate. Looking backwards, Alyssa watched white dust billowing behind their car. The fields were green, and cattle and horses grazed. Tall trees grew around the scattered farmhouses and barns, some of which looked no different from ones she’d seen in 1931. Sometimes old farm equipment sat in fields, or near outbuildings. “I feel like I’m in a time warp!” she said to Mom. “It was almost exactly like this! Except, the cars and trucks and tractors are all new.”

  A small painted sign in a field, nearly obscured by tall grassy weeds, pointed the direction to the Middle Raccoon River Meetinghouse. Alyssa discovered that she was holding her breath. Some of the same trees were there. Bright orange lilies and hollyhocks still bloomed outside the meetinghouse. The building had been painted recently, and there was a ramp for wheelchairs. A new sign said MIDDLE RACCOON RIVER FRIENDS MEETING.

  As soon as Mom stopped the car, Alyssa bailed out. Behind the meetinghouse, the Friends school building was gone. But the same grassy area was there, as well as a swing set, a simple wooden play structure, and a climbing apparatus made of tractor tires. Alyssa ran across the grass and launched herself in a crazy, dizzying arc on one of the swings. She laughed out loud, then dragged her feet to stop.

  Mom stood in the middle of the grassy area. The breeze ruffled her hair around her face. “Shall we look inside the meetinghouse?” she suggested.

  “Yes.” Alyssa raced over to Mom and twirled her around in a breathless hug. Together, they tiptoed into the quiet building.

  It was the same. On the women’s side, Alyssa sat on the bench where she’d sat with Deborah and Eva that morning. Outside the window, green cornfields spread out to the rolling horizon. Then she got up and went to sit on the men’s side where she’d sat with George, and they’d talked. Dust motes glowed in a shaft of sunlight. The new homemade cushions were softer, but almost everything really did seem unchanged.

  “You really were here,” Mom said softly.

  Looking at her mother’s face, Alyssa decided that the only word that could describe her expression was “awe.”

  Clumping footsteps sounded on the porch. Alyssa turned around to see who was coming in.

  An old man stood in the doorway, leaning on a cane. One of his legs moved in a way that didn’t seem natural. “Hello there,” he said. “Did you folks just arrive?”

  Alyssa stood up. At the same time, Mom said, “Uncle Herbert?”

  Alyssa held back. How could that old man shuffling toward them be Herbert?

  “Jennifer,” he said. “It’s good to see you. Deb said you’d be coming.” He turned to Alyssa. “And thee surely is Alyssa. Thee looks no different than thee did when I was eight years old!” His hearty laugh loosened the nervous place in Alyssa’s stomach.

  She hugged him.

  Herbert Clayton’s gnarled hand stroked her hair for a moment. Then he stepped back to look at her with alert brown eyes. “As I recall, thee brought me some unusual shirts.” His wink made Alyssa smile. “I also recall that Debbie was concerned because thee’d left thy shoes.” He regarded the pink shoes with their purple laces, blue peace symbols, and the marker designs that obscured the word she’d written that frustrated day. “And what has thee got now?”

  Alyssa laughed self-consciously. “I decorated them,” she said. “It’s good to see … thee, Uncle Herbert.”

  “Who’s here?” called a woman’s strident voice. “Are you folks from Illinois?”

  “It’s the rental car,” Alyssa said. “We’re from —” She stared at the brisk old woman with pinkish-orange hair. “Frances?” she whispered.

  “Look who we’ve got here!” Herbert said. But there wasn’t time for introductions because eight or nine adults and children followed Great-Aunt Frances in — clearly members of her family — and many of them were talking.

  Mom stepped forward, clutching her purse. “Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

  Great-Uncle Herbert took her arm. “Don’t worry, Jenny. The folks here have everything organized. Your mother should be arriving soon. She’s bringing Deb and Allie. Why don’t you sit out on the porch and wait for them.” He turned to Alyssa. “And thee, Alyssa — thee’ll want to sit with thy mother.”

  And so she went outside with Mom. The day was hot, but the shade helped. Flies buzzed around, landing on her sweaty arms. More people arrived; Mom didn’t speak, so they must be distant relatives.

  And then a familiar blue Honda drove down the dusty driveway.

  Alyssa’s heart sped up. “Grandma’s here!” she said. Without waiting for Mom, she ran down the steps and opened the car door for Grandma Hadley.

  “Alyssa!” said Grandma. “You look wonderful!” She stepped out and pulled Alyssa into a tight hug. “You’ve grown up a lot, my girl,” she said. “Your parents have talked so much about you. Your dad says you’re the one who brought your mother out of her slump. I can’t begin to thank you enough.”

  “I didn’t do anything, much.” Even so, she leaned against her grandmother. And then she remembered. “Is…?”

  Grandma gave her a squeeze. “There’s someone here who can’t wait to see you.”

  Shyly, Alyssa walked around to the other side of the car. In the back seat, an elderly woman was unbuckling herself. But that couldn’t be
Great-Grandmother Newlin; it must be Great-Aunt Alice. Alyssa gave her a quick smile, and then opened the front passenger door.

  Her grand-grandmother had a wrinkled, smiling face with clear grey eyes behind glasses. Her white hair was brushed back from her forehead and held in place by metal clips. It shone in the sunlight. “Alyssa, dear,” the old woman said, and reached to clasp her hand.

  “Deb — um, Great-Grandmother Newlin!” Alyssa helped her step out of Grandma’s car. She couldn’t think what to say. Great-Grandmother Newlin was thin and frail, and leaned on her arm.

  The flash of a camera made Alyssa blink. Standing nearby, Great-Uncle Herbert had just taken a picture of them.

  “Thank thee so much for thy letter,” Alyssa said impulsively. “It’s wonderful! And thanks for sending the picture. It came only a couple of days after I gave it to thee.”

  Deborah Clayton Newlin laughed. “And I got to enjoy it for most of a lifetime,” she said. “I thank thee, Alyssa, for thinking of me and bringing thy picture and that dress — and, most importantly, thyself.” She drew back and gave Alyssa an earnest look. “If thee could spare some time to talk with an old lady while thee’s here, I would so love to hear more about thy life.”

  “Say ‘cheese,’” said Mom’s voice.

  Alyssa put her arm around her great-grandmother’s waist and smiled.

  “That’s perfect!” said Grandma Hadley.

  Mom’s camera flashed.

  Copyright ©Alison Lohans, 2011

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