True Colors

by Natalie Kinsey-Warnock

  Nadine had bragged about all her friends in Washington, D.C., and New York, but I think, deep down, I’d somehow known that wasn’t true, either. She’d needed me for a friend as much as I’d needed her.

  I was thinking so hard about Nadine that I didn’t see the dark car pulling into the driveway, and jumped sideways at the last minute to avoid getting hit.

  I was surprised to see Mr. Tilton behind the wheel. Did his showing up mean the Tiltons weren’t getting a divorce? Maybe they wouldn’t be selling the camp after all. Well, it didn’t matter now. I’d be gone, but at least Nadine would be happy about her parents getting back together.

  I waved, but Mr. Tilton just stared straight ahead like he didn’t see me, and he didn’t wave back. That didn’t seem like him. Maybe Nadine had told him what I’d said, and he was mad at me, too.

  I stood and watched as Mr. Tilton pulled into the yard. Nadine came flying out of the house screaming “Daddy!” and ran into his arms. He kissed her and put his arm around her shoulders as they walked together into the house.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wondered if my reunion with Myrtle would be anything like that.

  I stumbled home and slipped upstairs, my heart feeling as heavy as one of Hannah’s old sadirons. I’d always thought Nadine and I would be best friends forever; now I didn’t have a friend in the world.

  I sat at my desk and pulled out my Big Chief tablet. My heart wasn’t in it, but I knew I ought to finish writing up the stories of the town mothers before I left. Maybe working on them would help take my mind off Nadine, I thought, but just as I began writing, Hannah called up the stairs for me to help her with the firewood instead.

  She split while I piled it in the woodshed. Hannah said firewood warmed you three times: when you cut it, when you split and piled it, and when you burned it. I felt guilty when I thought how Hannah would have to fill up the woodbox by herself this winter—I wouldn’t be around to help.

  “Storm’s coming,” Hannah said. “Feels like it’ll be a real glysterie.”

  I did chores as usual, and carried a bowl of food out to Cat. I wanted to tell her about my plans for finding Myrtle, but Cat wasn’t by the barn. I was already late with my deliveries, so I had to leave the food.

  Dolly knew the storm was coming and moved along faster than she usually did. I wanted to get home before the storm hit, too. I hoped it would be over before morning. It would be too bad if the sesquicentennial got cancelled. Besides, I didn’t want to have to ride to the train station in the rain.

  I’d hoped to see Cat waiting by the barn when I got home, but she wasn’t. I put Dolly in the barn and scooped some grain into her feedbox. I wondered if Dolly would miss me when I was gone. I knew I’d miss her.

  I realized Cat wasn’t in the barn, but I looked anyway. Hannah noticed my worried expression when I came in.

  “Did you see Cat today?” I asked.

  Hannah shook her head.

  “She may be off hunting,” she said, but I knew something was wrong. Hannah held my supper, warming, while I searched through the orchard and the fields, calling until it got dark. The thunderstorm moved in, the wind whipping the rain sideways (a real glysterie, just like Hannah had said), and I came in, looking like a drowned cat and more worried than ever.

  After supper, I stood on the porch, the rain drumming on the roof and falling in sheets off the porch.

  “Cat! Cat!” I called, my voice echoing in the darkness. I’d wondered if Cat would miss me, too, but I guessed not since it looked like she’d already left.

  “You’ll catch your death out here,” Hannah said. “Come in and get warm.” She turned on the radio and heated some milk on the stove, and we drank cups of hot cocoa while listening to Duke Ellington and Nat King Cole.

  I wondered what music Myrtle liked. Would she and I listen to Johnny Ray and Patti Page instead? I pictured Myrtle holding my hands and teaching me how to do the jitterbug and the Lindy Hop.

  I looked over at Hannah. She was humming and tapping her foot, and I knew I was going to miss nights like this.

  chapter 30

  I kept stealing glances at Hannah, trying to make sure I locked her image in my brain so I’d never forget her. I tried not to think how Hannah’s heart might break into flinders when I left.

  A gust of wind shook the house, and the rain sounded like bullets on the roof.

  “I declare, I haven’t seen it rain this hard since the ’27 flood!” Hannah said. “That’s certainly going to put a damper on all the celebrations. And after Mr. Gilpin’s worked so hard.”

  I thought how upset Mr. Gilpin would be if the Runaway Pond pageant were washed out by a real flood!

  “You know, after the celebration, I was thinking of starting another quilt,” Hannah said. “My wrist has probably healed enough. Maybe you’d like to help me with this one.”

  I nodded, even though I knew I wouldn’t be around to help with this quilt or any other. The clock chimed nine times.

  “Time for bed,” Hannah said, as if it were a regular night. As far as she knew, it was.

  “Good night,” I said, when what I really wanted to say was, Goodbye.

  In my room, I tried to write a note to Hannah, but I couldn’t find the words, so I crumpled up the paper and threw it away. I hoped she’d know how I felt about her. You can be mad at someone and still love them.

  I folded the quilt and put it in my bag of clothes. I also added a photograph of me and Hannah having cotton candy at the county fair. Mr. Gilpin had taken the picture when I was four years old. I’d gotten more cotton candy in my hair than in my mouth.

  I heard voices downstairs. One of them sounded like Mrs. Tilton. Had Nadine changed her mind, I wondered.

  I folded the stories I’d written and put them in a drawer. Being a writer had been a foolish dream. Once I got to California, I’d go back to my plans to be a lion tamer after all, or a trapeze artist.

  I heard Hannah’s footsteps on the stairs. I shoved the bag I’d packed under the bed just as Hannah walked in. From the look on her face, I knew that something awful had happened.

  “Keith,” Hannah said, her voice cracking. “He’s MIA, missing in action.”

  Missing in action. What did that mean, exactly, I wondered. Was Keith dead?

  “The telegram was delivered to Mr. Tilton last night, and he drove up to tell Mrs. Tilton and Nadine,” Hannah continued. “They’ll be driving home tomorrow. Mrs. Tilton just came by to tell me, and to say goodbye.”

  I closed my eyes, memories of Keith moving through my mind like a movie: how he’d do perfect jackknife dives off the dock; that time he came over wearing his father’s fedora to do an impersonation of Humphrey Bogart for Hannah; diving for, and catching, a line drive to the outfield, and then holding it up, triumphant, his laugh like the strike of a match. I couldn’t imagine never swimming with him again, never hearing another one of his silly knock-knock jokes, never seeing him again.

  It wasn’t fair. Keith was so smart and handsome, fun and funny at the same time. It was too bad we couldn’t trade him for Raleigh.

  The minute I thought it, I was ashamed, but it made sense, really. Why couldn’t it have been Raleigh instead? Raleigh wasn’t going to get any better, and Keith had so much to look forward to. He would have gotten married, had kids, found his calling. Raleigh would never have any of that.

  I was sure I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but I must have because I woke to sunshine streaming through the window and the sky washed clear and clean. The sesquicentennial would go on as planned.

  And I’d be leaving forever.

  My arms and legs felt like lead as I dressed. This would be the last time I’d wake up in this room. The last time for a lot of things.

  I made myself smile as I went down the stairs, acting like it was just an ordinary day, but my smile felt as painted-on and fake as a clown’s.

  At breakfast, Hannah looked sad, and I knew she was thinking about Keith. I tried not to think about how she’d lo
ok later, once she found out I was gone, too.

  I wouldn’t be missing in action, just missing.

  I wondered if the Tiltons had already left for home. Well, they were all in my past now. I had to start looking at my future, a new future with Myrtle.

  “Well, I’ll be headed into town now,” Hannah said. “I’ll see you later on.”

  “Okay,” I said carefully, afraid my voice would give me away.

  I watched Hannah drive out of the yard, and the lump in my throat seemed as big as a baseball.

  I threw my bag of clothes over my shoulder, feeling a little like a hobo from the Depression, and stood at the door, drinking in the sight and smell of the kitchen for the last time. My eyes fell upon my college fund jar.

  Enough money to get me all the way to California and then some.

  Don’t even think it, the voice of good Blue said.

  Take it. It’s your money, said bad Blue.

  It’s stealing.

  I’ll send it back when I get there.

  You know you won’t.

  Think of all the years Hannah worked to earn that money.

  She earned it for me.

  She saved it for you to go to college.

  I’ll go to college in California.

  It’s wrong and you know it.

  Shut up.

  I tucked the jar under my arm and slipped out the door.

  chapter 31

  As I rode along, I said goodbye to each place I passed. Goodbye, Mrs. Wells. I’d almost miss her boring stories. Goodbye, Mr. Hazelton. I’d wanted him to give me more lariat lessons; if I was going to be a cowboy, I’d have to get better at lassoing cattle. Well, maybe I’d stop off in Wyoming, on my way to California, and find someone who could teach me.

  I passed through town and headed out along the river. The wildflowers were so pretty, lining the riverbank: blue chicory and daisies and black-eyed Susans. California would have other flowers, but they probably wouldn’t be as pretty.

  Goodbye, river.

  I saw the rickety bridge to Raleigh’s house up ahead. Goodbye, bridge. Goodbye, Raleigh.

  I pictured everyone at the celebration. I imagined the pageants unfolding, seeing in my mind Raleigh running down along the river as Spencer, and wondered who Mr. Gilpin would have fill in for me as Mrs. Willson. I wondered, too, if the Wright brothers would cause some unexpected surprises.

  Speaking of which, that’s what I was going to be when I found Myrtle. An unexpected surprise. I’d always imagined her face when I finally found her—astonishment turning into joy.

  But what if it wasn’t? I’d been so busy thinking about our reunion that I’d never let myself really think about what Nadine had said that had made me so mad at the time. What if Myrtle really didn’t want me back? If Myrtle really was going to come back for me, she would have done it by now. And what if, after I got there, Myrtle left me somewhere again? What would I do then?

  I thought of all I was leaving behind: Nadine, Mr. Gilpin, the Monitor, Raleigh, and especially Hannah. All that for a woman I’d never met. I was leaving Hannah for a woman who’d left me.

  I shook those thoughts out of my head. Everything would turn out all right, I told myself. I’d find new people in my life, new kids to play with. Myrtle might even have some other kids.

  I pulled Dolly to a stop.

  I hadn’t thought of that before. What if Myrtle was married and had a family? She probably hadn’t told any of them about me. Myrtle might have planned to go to her grave with her secret. If so, she might not be too happy about me showing up and turning her life upside down.

  Myrtle hadn’t wanted me when I was born. What made me think she’d want me now?

  As mad as I was at Hannah for not telling me the truth about Myrtle, there was one thing I did know to be true.

  Hannah would never have left me.

  I sat there, biting my lip. I don’t know how long I would have stayed there, or what decision I would have come to, if I hadn’t heard a muffled boom in the distance.

  Thunder? I thought. No, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Besides, the sound had come from the direction of town.

  Fireworks? No, they weren’t till this evening.

  But then I knew.

  Dynamite.

  The Wright brothers must have blown the dam after all.

  All the stories I’d heard of Runaway Pond flooded into my brain. The water had washed away the mill, even carrying off the heavy millstone, which was never found. All through the valley, buildings were torn off their foundations, trees uprooted, animals carried away. The only reason there hadn’t been more damage and deaths was because so little of the valley had been settled back then. That wasn’t true now. How much of the town would be washed away this time? How many of the people?

  People like me. All that water would be coming down the river, headed for me, any second now.

  Dolly and I would be like a tiny speck of dust swept away without a trace by that wall of water.

  I had to get to high ground fast. I kicked Dolly hard. She laid her ears back, but I think she sensed something and jogged along faster than usual. A little ways ahead, on the left, was a hill.

  If we got to the top of the hill, we’d be all right there, I thought. We just had to get away from the river.

  Then I remembered. Raleigh’s animals were all along the river.

  Raleigh was at the sesquicentennial, right this very minute, playing Spencer Chamberlain! But it was his animals here that were in the path of a real flood.

  I raced across the bridge, not giving Dolly time to remember how she hated bridges. I kept glancing over my shoulder. How fast did water travel? If I’d studied harder in science, I’d know that.

  I wondered what it must have been like for Spencer to be running with that roaring wall of water right behind him.

  I raced to open gates and cages and fences. The heron hopped out, one wing flapping, the three heron babies hopping after her, and the monkey climbed the nearest tree. The other animals sensed something was up, and the sounds of bleating, bawling, baaing, and clucking drowned out any sound of approaching water. I carried, pushed, and prodded the sheep, calf, rabbit, chickens, and Daisy all to higher ground, until the only animal left was the camel.

  It was then I heard the water coming, and it sounded like a train.

  I grabbed the camel’s halter, and what’d he do but lie down! I tugged and pulled, and even said some bad words, but that camel refused to budge. Didn’t he know I was only trying to save him? Then I knew I was too late to do it. I let go of his halter and ran for Dolly.

  As soon as I dropped the halter, that camel got up and loped off across the bridge. If I’d had any more time, I might have said a few more bad words, but I didn’t. I took a running jump, vaulted onto Dolly’s back, just like Tom Mix in the movies, and dug in my heels.

  We were halfway across the bridge when Dolly balked—what was it with these fool animals? I jabbed my heels into her again and thought, We’re going to beat it, we’re going to get across in time, when the water slammed into us.

  The next thing I knew, we were in the river, being tumbled like clothes in the wringer washing machine.

  Water filled my ears, nose, and eyes. The last image I had of Dolly was of her flailing at the water with her hooves, and then I was churned underwater. When I popped back up, she was gone. Then the river pushed me under again.

  What was that word that meant “pertaining to rivers”? Flum … fluminous, that was it. I was going to die a fluminous death.

  I don’t know how long I churned and tumbled down that river—minutes, hours, days?—before I felt a blinding pain in the side of my head, and suddenly I’m six years old again, and Hannah is teaching me how to do the dog paddle and back float in Shadow Lake. I’m afraid, but she tells me to trust her, to lean back on her hand and let the water hold me. I feel myself floating, and then, just as suddenly, I’m ten, and Hannah and I are paddling a canoe down the river. I turn my head to
say something to Hannah, and I see a woman standing at the water’s edge. The sun is shining like gold on her hair, and she’s smiling, holding a hand out to me, and I know it’s my mama. I try to paddle closer to her, but the river carries the canoe past her.

  “Blue?” I can hear my mama calling me.

  I’m coming, Mama, I tell her. I’m coming.

  “Blue.”

  I opened my eyes.

  Hannah’s worried face stared back at me.

  It took me a moment to realize I was sitting in the bathtub, neck-deep in warm water.

  “It was the best way to warm you,” Hannah said. “You’re too big to fit in the oven now.”

  chapter 32

  Behind Hannah, I could see the worried faces of all the quilting ladies and their husbands, Mr. Gilpin, and even Mr. Hazelton, all of them crowded into our little bathroom. I sank deeper into the water, hoping there were enough soapsuds to cover me up.

  “Thank the Lord you’ve come back to us,” said Mrs. Potter. “We were worried sick.”

  “Now, Hortense, don’t be jumping on the girl,” Mr. Potter said. “Just be glad she’s all right.”

  “Of course I’m glad she’s all right,” Mrs. Potter said. “Can’t you see I’m glad?” And she burst into tears. Mr. Potter patted her on the back. I could see tears in his eyes, too.

  Were they crying over me?

  “Thank goodness Hannah and Raleigh were out looking for you,” Esther said.

  I tried to follow what they were saying. Hannah and Raleigh had been out looking for me? I’d thought they were at the pageant.

  “Well, it was a good thing Clem happened to be fishing, too,” Mr. Gilpin said. “He’s the one that saved Dolly.”

  “I was coming from the creamery, headed to the celebration, when I saw the fish were jumping,” Mr. Hazelton said. “You know, fish always bite better after a storm. So there I am fishing when I hear that water a’comin. Got to higher ground just in time. But when I saw poor ol’ Dolly coming down the river, I took the rope holding the milk cans and lassoed her!”