by Ilie Ruby
Echo will tell the child all about freckles.
But she won’t say a thing about the birds. They’ll have to wait and see.
She looks around. She needs to make sure the two people she loves are still there. In the distance, Clarisse is stretching her stocking feet out on the blanket.
Up ahead, Grant is leaning against the tree, his arms folded against his blue T-shirt. His face is bright, his smile filling up the sky. Sometimes when she looks at him, Echo’s heart swells and she feels so much love, she thinks she won’t be able to stand it a minute longer. And then she reminds herself she can. That this is the good stuff. Happiness is just as hard to get used to as anything else.
In the same year, Echo will become daughter and mother and a wife. How amazing that everything can change so quickly.
Ahead, a kingfisher with a bent wing flies past her before settling on a cattail. Echo looks down. Her fingers are delicately brushing the edge of the Queen Anne’s lace. Is this the one she’s been looking for, the one with no center?
Her fingers reach to pull it up from its roots. But instead, she lets go. Everything contains the possibility of change, yet with that has to come trust. It’s a deal that the earth makes with the sky. It’s a level of trust that is present all the time. It’s in the way the earth lets go of the sun each evening and the moon each dawn. Not pushing them away, just quietly trusting they will be back.
Echo turns toward the scent of bonfires weaving across the water. Sooner or later she must grow wise with the time she has, savoring the minutes like gifts, like the words of a precious book that has been lent to her, or a child. To find the right country is the greatest gift. To realize it as the one that has always felt like home is even greater, as Joseph once said. She is certain she has found it.
She walks back toward Clarisse and Grant, who have both been patiently waiting for her for a very long time.
AT THE HARVEST PARADE, an end-of-summer tradition that marks the beginning of the Ring of Fire festivities, a crowd is funneling onto Main Street. Standing in a float adorned with six-foot papier mâché ears of corn, a young Harvest Queen with a spiral perm is waving to the crowd. Just this morning Georgia Petrograss, who has just quit her job at Kelley’s Bar, got a belly-button ring, though she knows her mother will ground her for life when she sees it. Georgia is standing up, dancing lightly to the drumbeat of the Buffalo Creek Dancers. On the sidewalk, Lion’s got Lucas on his shoulders as he follows Melanie toward the stage. As the dancers shake their rattling instruments, Lion bounces Lucas up and down, which Lucas loves. He peels with laughter, gripping onto Lion’s dreadlocks and pulling them so excruciatingly hard that Lion’s eyes tear. Standing to the right of the stage, an old man in a feather headdress hits the drum strapped to his side. As he calls out his song, a dozen dancers in brightly colored dress weave in and out of a circle, their eyes holding ground. The chain of bells around their knees jingles with every stomp of their fringed moccasins. Four women flash by, lifting baskets into the air, an homage to the corn god. “I never want to see another corn dog again,” says Melanie, holding her stomach. She’s wearing a purple bikini top and army pants rolled up to the thigh.
“Then you’d better learn to cook, sweetie,” Leila says, tugging down her long T-shirt that Melanie made for her, which says, MY CHILDREN WENT TO CALIFORNIA AND ALL I GOT IS THIS SHITTY T-SHIRT.
“There aren’t any corn dogs in Long Beach,” says Lion.
“Oh no?” Leila asks.
“They’re all off chasing corn cats,” Lion says, and laughs.
“Ick,” says Melanie.
“Ick,” says Lucas.
They find the car and drive down the hill toward the beach and park a few feet back from the water. Every time Lion glances at Leila she looks as though she’s about to cry. She reaches her hand into the cooler and pulls out five peanut-butter sandwiches. But she can’t hide her tears, and she starts crying into the plates. Melanie puts Lucas in his stroller and then gets up and puts her arms around Leila. She thinks Leila is crying because of Maya choosing to go back to Cheever, and because they’re moving away, but that’s only part of it.
Getting Melanie back has replaced the space for grief. But only for a time. The grief still seeps out when Leila is caught unawares. It can feel overwhelming when Leila actually lets herself stop and think about all that happened within a short span of a few days. And yet it wasn’t just a few days. If she traces it all back, it was, in fact, a lifetime of mistakes. And it rattles her, how years of mistakes can catch up with a person in a span of a few hours. How lives can be lost, suddenly, without warning. She had only been trying for love, trying all these years, for she was a person who thought she needed love to survive. Had she been different, had she not needed it so badly or been that sort of person, her whole life might have been different. But she was that sort of person. As long as she’d been able to breathe, she’d been ruled by it. Love of a man. Love of her children. She had no way of knowing that a blizzard would bring her love, that it would later almost cost Charlie Cooke his life, right there in her house when she was only upstairs trying to wash the scent of sadness from her skin. Charlie Cooke nearly died in a pool of blood in her kitchen, after telling her only minutes before that he still thought about her. He had left her with a bit of foolish hope, just as he always had. It would have been harder if he had said that he loved her. And she is grateful to him that he never said it, even though for years she prayed she would hear those words from his lips. That was the only thing she ever wanted to hear.
And finally, Victor, now in prison, another casualty of the battle that was her heart. But it was his battle, too, and they had both been caught up in it. At least her daughters were not casualties. Not any longer. Her daughters are her greatest accomplishment. Both survivors, showing her the way. Maya is starting to work on her studies. Melanie is strong. Stronger than Leila had ever been. For this, Leila is grateful. She is grateful to Victor for if it weren’t for his terror, Leila wouldn’t have needed Ben Shongo. And without that need, Luke would not have been born.
At one time, she had three children, and she told them often that they were a triangle, the strongest shape. And though one was missing, the other two had proven they were strong in their own right. Perhaps a triangle was not the strongest shape. Perhaps each person was her own perfectly balanced shape.
Now, to compound the loss, Lion and Melanie are moving to California. Lion once told her that the water was his curse. That when he moved again, he’d use a map and draw a circle with a compass. He’d figure out a place that was at least a day’s drive from any sort of water at all. He’d always believed that getting away from California would solve all his problems, but now he says he knows better, that he wants to face the things that have made him run. He and Melanie won’t live in Compton, where he grew up. Instead, he wants to live in Long Beach, right on the water. And Melanie is going to apply to film school at the University of Southern California. They’ll only be twenty minutes from Los Angeles when she gets her big break.
“Hey!” Lion calls, standing in the water up to his knees. “No hands!”
Melanie shakes her head and looks at Leila. “Luckiest day of my pitiful life, meeting that guy.”
This is Leila’s biggest joy, taking care of her grandson, enjoying her daughter and her son-in-law. It is official as of last week. Melanie and Lion stood at the courthouse and exchanged sterling silver bands made by a friend in town. “Redeem this dress,” Leila had said, handing over her wedding dress. So Melanie dyed it purple in the bathtub, even though Leila wasn’t sure if this would exorcise the bad luck. Melanie said she wasn’t scared of anything now after what she’d been through. Well, there’s still no arguing with Melanie. She wanted a purple wedding dress and that’s what she got. She wore a headband with little silk purple flowers, the blond tufts of hair framing her face. She looked absolutely lovely, Leila thought. She wished Maya could have been there, but the girl was in good hands at Cheever. Aft
er what she saw, they decided it would be best for her if she stayed where she felt safe. But Maya told Leila that she wants to move back home soon. It is something to work toward. Something they would do together.
Every few days, Lion comes by with his rake. He insists on raking the grave under the lilac tree himself. Out of respect for Luke, and in gratitude for keeping Melanie alive. That is what Melanie says.
All Leila ever wanted to be was a mother, and maybe that was part of the problem. But at her age, she’s becoming an entrepreneur. Hearing Clarisse talk has given her confidence. Leila’s about to re-enter the work force. She’ll be opening a daycare service. So far she’s already got three children signed up and two on the waiting list. What she’s really waiting for though is her first trip to California.
“You’re gonna be great,” Melanie tells Leila, putting Lucas in his stroller.
“You think so?”
“Definitely,” says Melanie, with a quizzical smile.
Staring at her daughter, Leila actually believes her. “So are you.”
“Well, I’m not getting fake boobs when I get to California,” says Melanie, pulling down one strap in order to see her sunburn line. “I think I’m changing my mind about filmmaking.”
“You promised you’d try,” says Leila. “You said you had a lot of stories to tell.”
“I guess. I’ve died twice. I must really want to be here.”
Leila looks at her daughter with her spiky hair and her bird tattoo. “Well, California may surprise you. You may find you like it.”
Melanie smiles. “Doubtful.” “I’d bet on it, sweetie.”
“What if I hate it there?”
“Then come home.”
Leila’s already got her plane ticket out to Long Beach for Thanksgiving. By then, Lion has said that the heat won’t be quite so suffocating. He’s told Leila that even in the heart of the city, the grocery stores are like open-air markets, and you know there’s about a million different languages buzzing around. It all sounds so exotic to Leila. She has lived her entire adult life in Canandaigua, in the house where Charlie was almost murdered.
“Well, I guess I can tell you. We’re not moving right away,” says Melanie, suddenly.
“What do you mean?” asks Leila.
“We need to save money before we go anywhere. And I really want Lucas to know his grandmother.”
“Sweetie, don’t stay here for me.”
Melanie holds up her hand. “Stop. Don’t even try to talk me out of it. Lion and I made our decision last night. We’re staying one more year.”
Don’t keep a man in Canandaigua if he doesn’t want to stay, thinks Leila, remembering Victor. “Well, only if that is what you both want.”
“Lion wants what I want,” says Melanie, as though she has read Leila’s mind. As Leila sits back in her beach chair, her body shrouded in a long T-shirt, she lets out a sigh. She picks up the pieces of sandwich crust Lucas is throwing into the dirt, and remembers how Luke liked to have his sandwich crust cut off before eating it. She feels a tinge of regret as she stares out at the water, thinking of Charlie, who miraculously survived the shooting, his skull being so hard that the bullet split in two when it hit and exited near the ears. Now he is holed up in a rehab hospital nearby, enduring a painful and slow comeback, Candice never leaving his side, she hears.
The good part is that some feelings die. And it’s the bad part, too. Ben Shongo had been a shoulder to cry on that went too far. It was complicated between them. But she never loved him like she loved Charlie. She had ended it with Ben after a short time because he was married. But he kept coming back. And it was then that she knew that he was as lost as she was. He once offered to leave Emily. But Leila had turned him down. Then, when Luke was born, they were inextricably linked. Ben made her promise to call him whenever Luke had the slightest asthma attack. Leila wouldn’t take his money or his love, but at least she agreed to accept his help.
Melanie yells from the water, jarring Leila’s thoughts. Leila watches her. She’s looking for a smooth flat gray stone that’s good for skipping. Triangular shapes are the best, she’s always believed. She finds one, positions it sideways and flicks her wrist, sending the stone skidding across the skin of the water just as Leila taught her. It dusts the surface, skipping just once.
Melanie comes running back. “Mom, why don’t you try? You can still skip stones the best, I bet.”
“I couldn’t, sweetie. Knowing me I’d probably throw out my back.”
“C’mon,” Melanie urges, drying off. “See, Lucas wants you to.” Lucas wants out of his stroller. Melanie takes his hands and stands him up on the blanket. He bounces at the knees, and then walks on his tiptoes, like a ballet dancer.
“Do it, Mom. Please?” Melanie says.
Leila gets up, smoothing the long T-shirt over her thighs. She smiles at Lion and rolls up her pants. “Well, okay,” she says. “Sure, I’ll try it.”
Leila wades out into the water, the first time she has touched the lake since Luke’s death. She hesitates partway out and then stops, startled by its icy waves biting at her shins. She looks down, the water is clear enough to see the smooth rocks below. Leila picks up a flat gray rock and wipes it off with the edge of her shirt. She leans back, and then tosses it sideways into the water. It sails farther than Melanie’s did, past the nearby dock. She turns to leave the water and then suddenly the flat stone comes skipping out of the lake, skipping back to her.
Leila is staring out at the hazy image hovering above the water. It first appears as a cloud that begins to move forward and spin, faster and faster, changing shape as it forms the image of a child. The sun is glazing the lake with pink and yellow hues, illuminating the glowing figure of the little boy who emerges out of the haze, his blond hair spun in sunlit curls. Leila gasps as a flood of tears falls across her face. For one crystal moment, he captures her eyes and smiles. He reaches down and scoops up a handful of water and throws it into the air, tossing his head back in laughter as he lets the water shower over him. When he was a baby learning to swim, she would play with him like this to teach him that the water was a safe place.
She is remembering it all, his joyful games, his dimes, the way his paper airplanes went spinning into the air. His obsession with flying.
He reaches one hand out to her just as he used to do when he was sick and he wanted her to know he would be okay. Leila knows she cannot touch him, but she reaches her own hand out to let him know she understands.
And then, he retreats into the haze and vanishes.
The lake is empty now, its waters still, calm. He is gone. She feels it in her bones, and the feeling of longing she has lived with for so long is replaced by a sense of peace. Leila knows Luke will always be with her. She thinks of a small snow angel that appeared early one morning on the lawn, and the branch of the lilac tree waving back and forth even though there was no wind. She stands there, hand on her heart, allowing herself to finally let him go.
Later, when Lion and Melanie are roasting marshmallows under the darkening sky and the ring of fire spreads around the lake, containing it in one glowing circle of light, Leila gets up and wades farther out into the cold water. She is not afraid of the future anymore.
Under her feet, she feels the slip of smooth white stones. She’s up to her waist now, but she’s plowing through the cold pockets in the water. The evening sky has erupted in a spray of stars. Leila has decided that each star is really an ancestor. She doesn’t have to try hard to find hers because they already know who she is and so she always looks exactly at the right one. She turns around and looks at her family. Melanie waves, her face bathed in the fire’s glow. Then Leila drops way down into the water, holding her breath, letting her T-shirt billow around her. She opens her eyes. She cannot see a thing below, let alone the face in front of her. Certainly not the silver tomahawk that Two Bears buried on Squaw Island and then years later unearthed on a rainy night in order to return the spirits to the lake before he, h
imself, passed on.
But when Leila looks up there are little white diamonds and red stars floating on the surface of the water. She wonders how many flares it would take to circle the ocean. Probably one for every person in the world. She tries to imagine the sky so packed with stars that they spill out. All those little white and red lights scattered across the beautiful water. One for every person, living and not.
A+ AUTHOR INSIGHTS, EXTRAS & MORE…
FROM
ILIE
RUBY
AND
AVON A
Writing The Language of Trees
I wrote this book over the course of a few years. I researched, wrote and rewrote, as good writers do. I produced a few versions. Okay, I had six versions to be exact. Six 400-page piles of paper sitting in my office on my desk. I carted these versions around with me from office to office during a nomadic time in my life. I felt overwhelmed that I had created so much paper. I started writing poetry and painting to take my mind off of these six pink elephants in my office. My painting career began to take off a bit. I just couldn’t write anything new. Books become your babies. I had to make sure that my book was taken care of, but after a while, I stopped letting anyone read it.
One day, a friend from my writing program at the University of Southern California, announced that she would be visiting from Manhattan and that she wanted to see my new house. (I had just moved, again. I had denied her several requests to read my book. She had begged me countless times.) I may have mentioned to her at some point, during a confessional moment between two writers, about my six versions and my inability to choose one. But on the day of her visit, innocently enough, she showed up with a housewarming present—a beautiful vase—and without thinking, I showed her my office, in particular, I wanted her to see the peach-colored walls and my new walnut floors.