“He’s been arrested before.” Wreath sighed and leaned against Law’s shoulder. “It never sticks.”
“He won’t get within a hundred miles of you again. No one is going to let you get hurt again.” Law swallowed and put his arm around her. “All of this is going to work out. The whole mess will.”
Wreath didn’t think it was possible to tense even more, but at his words, she did. “What’s wrong?” she said in a rush. “Something else happened, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you or not.” Law’s arm lay heavy on her now, the comforting feeling gone.
“Tell me,” Wreath hissed, sitting up and jerking back.
He hesitated.
“What is going on?” Wreath’s mind skidded around horrible possibilities.
“J. D.’s son, John David, who was killed by that train, was …” Law paused.
“Was what?”
“He was apparently your father.”
“My father?” Wreath could scarcely take in the words. “J. D.’s your grandfather,” Law said. Matter-of-factly. Just like that. Your grandfather. She sank onto the ground, and Law knelt by her, holding her hands. “Now do you see why you need to get to Mrs. Durham’s?”
Wreath knew she had to get back to the junkyard, retrieve her hidden money, and lose herself again. Growing up with Frankie, she knew when it was time to run—and the time had come, while Big Fun was out of the picture.
She also could tell by the feel of Law’s grip and the look in his eyes that he had no intention of letting her get away. “I don’t know what to do,” Wreath said. “Big Fun—Fred Procell—hurts people.” She nudged her pack with her foot. “He kills people.”
“You’re safe,” Law said, stroking her hair. “You’re safe. All safe.”
Wreath didn’t believe that.
“Will you walk with me to the junkyard to get my things?” she asked. “You can call and let the others know I’m all right and that we’ll be there soon.”
“Are you sure?” Law said. “That’s a long walk, and they need to see you for themselves. They’ll want to come pick you up. This has to end, Wreath.”
“I need time to think,” Wreath said. “A grandfather …” Law looked at her intently. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“I can’t take it in.” She did not have to pretend to tremble. “I need a few minutes.”
“Fair enough,” Law said. “Come inside with me, and I’ll get you a glass of water.”
Wreath gestured toward the trailer. “Your mom’s in there,” she said. “I’d rather wait here.”
Law looked at the light and looked back at her. He kissed her on the forehead and got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
“And, Law, will you tell Faye I love her?”
He smiled. “Will do.”
As soon as the boy opened the door to his home, Wreath started running, across the road and up into a stand of trees, weaving back and forth, again calling upon every shortcut she’d ever used, looking over her shoulder until she entered the unofficial boundaries of Wreath’s Rusted Estates.
The familiar array of cars and oddball landmarks didn’t calm her tonight, nor did the grip of fear around her heart ease. Without using a flashlight, she dug up the cans where she had hidden her earnings from the furniture store, stuffed her old Bible and a couple of shirts in her pack, and headed for the brush.
She could already hear Law calling her name and thought she heard Faye’s voice, too, and possibly J. D.’s. He was her grandfather?
She hopped on her bike, crashing down the escape trail she’d cleared months before, with enough money to buy the bus ticket she needed.
Chapter 41
Dear Brownie, Wreath wrote in the diary. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the junkyard.
She looked around the shabby motel room near Lucky, rented with a wad of her hard-earned cash.
TO-DO LIST:
1. Find a job.
2. Write Faye, Miss Watson, and Clarice a note.
3. Figure out why Frankie never told me about my grandfather.
4. Get an apartment.
Anguish churned in Wreath over running away; she was missing her friends more than she’d imagined. She’d seen her mother pick up and move a dozen times and didn’t know how Frankie had done it. Waking in the middle of the night, Wreath looked at the floral bedspread dotted with cigarette burns and the crooked drapes. She thought of the way Durham’s Fine Furnishings looked when she first walked in. She thought of the cozy Tiger Van and her campsite.
She went to the lobby and bought a stale pastry from a vending machine, studying a big calendar from a bait and tackle shop. Someone—probably the grumpy clerk behind the counter—had marked a big X through each day of the year, as though wishing the time away.
Today’s date swam in front of her eyes. Tonight would have been her graduation ceremony.
She figured her disappearance had cost her the honor spot she had held, but maybe she could still get her diploma. Her grades were good, and she’d only missed school when she had the flu and that first day when she’d been too nervous to go. And these last three days.
She would love to hear Law give his speech, with his deep voice and sweet smile as he stood before the crowd. The safe crowd. Wreath out of their lives.
Staring out the window, the darkness closed around her until a hint of gray tinged the sky. As soon as there was a trace of daylight, she hurried to her former neighborhood, stunned that it could look as though nothing had changed.
With quick steps, she walked up the elderly neighbor’s sidewalk and rang the doorbell. “I’m sorry to come so early,” she said when the door opened. “I need to see my mother’s grave. Can you take me there?”
“I knew you’d come back one of these days,” the neighbor said, opening her arms to Wreath. “Frankie left a letter for you. She didn’t trust that boyfriend of hers to give it to you.”
The daybreak visit to the cemetery choked Wreath up but didn’t break her down. Frankie would always be a part of her life, and her mother’s letter answered questions that had nipped at her all of her life. J. D. was her grandfather.
A small picture of her father, was in the envelope. Studying it, Wreath didn’t know how she’d missed the resemblance between herself and the hardware store owner.
The sight of Frankie’s handwriting felt like a visit from her mother.
I know I haven’t always been the mother you deserved, she’d written, but you are a treasure, Wreath. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for always running away from my troubles. Never forget that God is with you wherever you go. I hope you found my note in Brownie to remind you. All my love forever and ever, Frankie.
Wreath unzipped the small inside pocket in the pack and pulled out the bracelet. She had to go back.
Wreath called Clarice from the neighbor’s house.
“Wreath?” the lawyer said. “Oh, thank You, God, Wreath. Thank You. Oh Wreath … Where are you? Are you all right? Oh Wreath …”
The lawyer’s outburst was so unlike her usual self that Wreath gulped back tears, remorse rolling over her like a tidal wave.
“I need a ride,” she said.
Using every persuasive word she knew, Wreath tried to talk Clarice into picking her up without telling anyone else.
“I have to let people know you’re all right,” the attorney said. “They’re heartbroken and afraid for you. They love you.”
“I love them, too. Just do this one last thing for me. I’ll never ask you to hide anything again.”
“Let me tell them I’ve heard from you, that you’ll be back soon.”
Wreath thought of Faye’s worry, of J. D.’s kind face. “I’d rather see them. Please. Hurry.”
Clarice sighed. “I got your graduation paperwork cleared up. I guess, as your attorney, I do need you to sign the papers.” Then it seemed to dawn on her. “The ceremony’s tonight,” she said. “We don’t have much time.�
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“I’ve been so stupid,” Wreath said. “I thought Big Fun would hurt more people.”
There was a beat of silence, and Wreath thought maybe she’d been disconnected. Then Clarice spoke. “You did what you thought you had to. I’ll come get you.”
“Thank you,” Wreath said. “I promise I’ll never keep secrets after this. Please, please hurry.”
“I’m on my way,” Clarice said. “I’ll be there before noon. Do not go anywhere.”
They rode mostly in silence, Clarice glancing at Wreath from time to time.
“I went to the cemetery,” Wreath said. “I saw my mama’s grave.”
“How’d that go?” Clarice asked.
“Sad. But good.” Wreath reached into her pack and pulled out the bracelet. “I have something I need to give you.” Clarice looked puzzled.
“Big Fun—Fred Procell—killed a woman,” Wreath said. “He stole this from her, and Frankie found out. He told Mama he’d kill me if she ever told.”
“Oh Wreath.” The car slowed as Clarice glanced at her.
“He hid this under Frankie’s mattress,” Wreath said in a rush. “I took it the day Mama died.” Her hands shook as she dropped the bracelet onto the seat. “I don’t want to run from him ever again.”
“You don’t have to,” Clarice murmured, reaching over to clasp Wreath’s hand. “This will help put him away for a nice long time.”
“Clarice?” she asked as they approached the site where Wreath had first hitched a ride with her. “Will you take me home first? By the junkyard, I mean.”
“Are you sure, Wreath? You know we’re cutting it very close.”
“I need to pick something up,” she said. “It’s important.”
Clarice turned off the highway and drove a few yards before stopping the car, the rusty vehicles sparkling in the afternoon sun.
“Welcome to my home,” Wreath said with a smile.
Clarice, who had laughed and cried and uttered prayers of praise as they had driven from Lucky, looked dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you lived here almost a year,” she said.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Wreath responded, surprised that she meant it. “This’ll just take a sec.”
Inside the Tiger Van, Wreath reached into the plastic sack near the back, changed clothes, and strolled out.
“Going my way?” the lawyer asked with a smile.
“Can you drop me downtown?”
“It’d be my pleasure,” Clarice said.
Faye looked at the clock and gave thanks that closing time was near. With graduation this evening, the afternoon had been long and empty, her hopeful graduation party decorations ridiculous.
Walking into the workroom, she looked at the overflowing trash can and sighed, just as the bell on the door made a short, light sound. She went back into the showroom and gave a small smile when she saw J. D.
“It’s been a hard day, hasn’t it?” he said as he hugged her.
“Almost unbearable.” She leaned against his cotton shirt. His sturdiness helped steady her.
Over his shoulder, Faye noticed a car pull up. She wished she had turned the CLOSED sign around and locked the door. Then she recognized Clarice, who leaned over to say something to the person getting out on the passenger’s side.
Faye moved closer to J. D., afraid to hope. The front post where Wreath often locked her bike partially blocked the view, and she grew still. Her breath caught.
Unable to speak, she watched Wreath run up the steps and burst through the door. The bell jangled loudly.
For a heartbeat, Wreath stood before Faye, wearing her Landry High cap and gown.
Wreath took in a deep breath, and Faye did likewise. The store smelled like fresh gardenias, and the late afternoon sun made the old wood floors glow. As though someone had flipped a switch, the two ran to each other. They cried and hugged, working their way close to J. D. in their exuberance. He seemed glued to where he and Faye had stood. His eyes were wet with tears, his tanned face now pale.
Faye took a step back from Wreath, not letting go of her. “So you decided to come back,” she said.
Wreath bit her bottom lip, which trembled. “Couldn’t stay away,” she replied.
“Did you learn anything?”
“That running away doesn’t solve problems.”
The two hugged again, no words spoken for a moment.
Wreath stepped back and looked at J. D., who remained a step or two away. When she spoke, her gaze included both Faye and J. D. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” J. D. said, his voice deeper than usual. He cleared his throat, and Wreath lowered her head. “I’m the one who did wrong, not you.”
Faye interrupted by grabbing Wreath again. She held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “Are you all right, Wreath?”
“Yes.” The word sounded almost like a prayer. “Are you?”
“I am now that you’re back,” Faye said.
“I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have come to me,” Faye said, still holding on to Wreath. “I was scared, too.” They clutched at each other, crying harder.
“I will never keep a secret from you again,” Wreath said. “And I’ll never run again. Never, ever. I will always come back, wherever I go.”
Faye smiled and touched Wreath’s hair. Her hand shook. “I should hope so,” she said.
“May I live with you?” Wreath asked. “This summer? And when I’m back from college?”
“Oh sweet child, your room is waiting for you. Anytime. Always.”
Faye exhaled, looking at the big old furniture-store clock. She looked at J. D. and Wreath and smiled.
“Wreath Wisteria Willis,” she said, “we’ve got to hurry or you’re going to miss your graduation.”
Wreath nodded, the tassel on her mortarboard flopping, and she gazed shyly at the hardware store owner.
“Do you think my grandfather might drive us?” she asked.
Tears rolled from J. D.’s eyes as he nodded, but the back door crashed open before they moved. Law raced in, dressed in his cap and gown, Julia on his heels.
“Clarice told us Wreath’s all right,” Law said. His head moved from side to side as he scanned the room, the hat almost sliding off his head. “Where is she?”
Then Law met Wreath’s eyes.
He and Julia stopped, as though they had slammed on the brakes. “Wreath!” they said at the same time and ran toward her.
Reaching her first, Law wrapped Wreath in his arms and swung her around once, putting her feet on the floor and hugging her fiercely. “You’re home!” he said. “Wreath, you’re home!”
Julia, Faye, and J. D. drew closer, smiling, crying, embracing.
A joyful laugh erupted from deep within Wreath, and she threw her graduation cap into the air. “It’s true,” she said. “I’m home.”
Author Judy Christie started keeping a diary when she was nine years old and still has all of them. A former journalist, her first newspaper job was as editor of The Barret Banner in elementary school. Wreath is her first Young Adult novel She and her husband live in North Louisiana, where she loves to sit in the porch swing and read. For more information about Christie, see www.judychristie.com.
Discussion Questions
Why does Wreath decide to live in a junkyard? How would you describe the junkyard? Is it a frightening place or a comforting place? What does Wreath learn during her time in Landry?
What are some of the hard decisions Wreath makes throughout the story? What do you think she should have done differently? Have you ever had to make a hard decision? What helps you make good decisions?
What words would you use to describe Wreath to a friend? How do those words compare with words you might use to describe yourself? Do you and Wreath share any traits? If so, what are they? What quality of Wreath’s do you most respect?
Wreath keeps lists in her journal. Why does she do this? What rol
e does her diary play in her life? Do you keep a journal or have you considered keeping one?
The idea of God’s guidance is new to Wreath. How does she begin to understand it as the story unfolds? What part do faith and prayer play in the lives of the characters in Wreath? What does Wreath discover about church?
What do you think of Wreath’s mother, Frankie? Did Frankie learn from her mistakes? What is Wreath’s opinion of her mother? What does she learn from Frankie? What lessons have you learned from your own mother?
Who helps take care of Wreath during her senior year in high school? Why do they help Wreath? Who guides you in your life? Have you had an opportunity to help someone else? What did you do?
How do Law and Wreath become close friends? How does Law influence Wreath?
What do you think of Big Fun? Why is he chasing Wreath? Why is she afraid of him?
How does Wreath discover her talents in Landry? How does she use those talents? Have you ever considered what you are good at and how you might use your talents?
What does the idea of “home” mean to Wreath? What does it mean in your life?
What are Wreath’s plans for her life? What does she do to make her dreams come true? Do you think she will achieve her goals? Do you have dreams and goals for your life?
If You Enjoyed
Wreath,
be sure to read
THE WISHING PEARL
by Nicole O’Dell
Sixteen-year-old Olivia Mansfield can’t wait to escape the confines of her home, which promises nothing but perpetual torment and abuse from her stepfather. When poor choices lead her to the brink of a complete breakdown. Olivia comes to a crossroads. Will she find the path to ultimate hope and healing that her heart longs for?
Wreath Page 29