“My Aunt June made those,” he confesses. They’re awful good.
“I am so proud of you going after that dream of yours. Maybe we do get to choose after all, huh?” I say, nudging him on the shoulder.
He smiles like he might be a little embarrassed for doubting me in the first place.
“Wait till Mama hears about this. You tell your own ma?” I ask him.
“Not yet. She don’t think paintin’ is serious work,” he says.
“You should tell her just the same. I know she’d be proud.”
He digs a hole in the sand, sticks a candle in it to protect the flame from the breeze and lights it. Then he hands me a present—a small rectangular box wrapped a bit haphazardly in red paper.
I cover my mouth. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“Go on and open it,” he encourages.
Real slow, I tear off the paper, wanting to make this moment last. I hesitate before opening the box. Oh my word! It’s a delicate gold chain with a pretty little gold heart hanging on it.
“That way you’ll always know my heart’s with you,” he says, and he’s blushing for real.
Law! I reckon I’ve got to forgive him for hanging out with Dog my last week at home. I don’t know what to say. I have all these feelings inside me—ecstatic joy and fierce pain and profound love all mixed together. I wish he could just sense what’s going on inside of me without me having to struggle for words that couldn’t possibly even touch it.
“Wait here a minute,” he says. He grabs his bag and runs a short distance down the beach and next thing I know, he’s setting off fireworks—gold and green and red—just for me! And I say a prayer real quick just to make sure I don’t go and wake up.
33
August 30 arrives. Somehow it crept up on us, and I ain’t at all ready. I mean, my bags are packed and all, but I just ain’t ready. Laying in bed for the last few minutes, I wonder, what if my breathing goes all topsy-turvy when I’m on my own? What if I do need Jackson for real? But I can hear what he’d say already: Can’t nobody do your breathing for you, girl. It’s time for you to see you can do it your own self.
Mama comes in just then to get me up. “How you feeling?” she asks.
“Terrible,” I say.
“Come on, now, it ain’t so bad.” She sits on the edge of my bed, pushes my hair out of my face.
“Thank you for everything.” My voice is thick with feeling.
“I’m real happy for you,” she says, her voice trembly, “and proud to boot. First one in the family to actually make it onto the college track, mm mm mm.”
“Hate to interrupt this little love fest,” Dog moans from his bed,
“but can y’all shut up? I’m trying to sleep.”
Mama and I just laugh.
After I shower and get dressed, I come out for breakfast, though I can’t imagine eating nothing. My stomach is all tied up in knots. My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I see DC walking through the door—minus his mustache! He actually looks sort of decent without it.
“Whatcha think?” DC asks.
“Not bad,” I say.
“Guess you can’t exactly call me DC no more, huh?”
I laugh. “You may have shaved off that hairy caterpillar, but you always gonn’ be DC to me.”
I hug him real hard, knowing it’s thanks to him I’m going at all. He takes my stuff out to Jackson’s truck, which has just pulled up in the drive.
“Dog, get out here and come say bye to your sister,” Mama yells.
“Bye!” Dog shouts back from the bedroom.
“Dogwood Booker Brown!” Mama yells.
He knows he’s in trouble now. He ambles out of the room in his boxer shorts, his eyes all squinched up. The cast on his arm is looking ratty, but his bruises have faded.
“See you, Savannah,” he says, and actually manages to sound sort of somber.
“Don’t go taking over the room,” I say. “I’m only gone till Christmas.” I’m afraid to even think what that poor room is going to look or smell like when I get back.
Jackson, who has just walked in, says, “You go on ahead and make as a big a mess as you want, Dog. That room is yours.”
I swat Jackson on the arm. “Thanks for backing me up.”
He smiles. “Denny and I are gonn’ build you on an extra bedroom and an extra bathroom, too. With me and him coming by all the time, one bathroom ain’t enough.”
“Are you serious?” I squeal. I look from his face to Mama’s to DC’s, and I see that they are!
“When you come back in December,” Jackson promises, “you gonn’ have your very own bedroom. What color you want it to be?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I say, “I want a mural. I want your art splashed across my walls. You surprise me.” And I can see he’s pleased. Just think, no more NASCAR posters, no more junk all over the floor, no more stinky socks or sweaty clothes on my bed. My very own room! Now I admit there’s a part of me wondering if that extra bathroom is ’cause DC might be hoping to move in here one day. If that feeling I had of them being in it for the long haul is true, I reckon he will.
“Y’all better head out, or Savannah’s gonn’ miss her train,” Mama warns. She hugs me real hard and starts to cry.
I can’t believe this is even happening. I stand at the threshold, afraid to take that first step, my breathing getting just a mite crunchy. But I take a couple puffs off my inhaler, steel my nerves, and step outside.
Mama, DC, and even Dog stand on the steps waving till we’re out of sight. Now me and Jackson have got our last two hours together till we get to the station. To be honest, I’m scareder than that canary caught by that cat, I tell you what.
The car ride seems to go by awful quick. We hardly talk at all, just listen to music on the radio. He drives with one hand and holds mine with the other. Strange that this here might be our last chance to talk in person for four whole months, and both of us are all clammed up. Course Jackson ain’t never been big on talking and me, well, I’m just too durn nervous to open my mouth. As we get further from home, I scoot closer to him, lean my head on his shoulder, try to memorize the way he smells—like the beach and paint—and the way he feels—soft, yet strong and solid, warm. In fact, come to find out, what he feels like is home.
“Jackson,” I say, swallowing hard, fixing to tell him to go on and turn us around.
But he squeezes my leg and says, “You gonn’ be just fine, Savannah.”
So I hold my tongue.
Before I know it, we’re pulling up to the train station and my heart starts in to beating like a hamster on a running wheel. Jackson gets my luggage out of the back and sets it on the curb. I’m still sitting up in the front, unmoving. He comes over and opens my door and offers me a hand down. I take a couple of deep breaths, throw my backpack over my shoulder, and join him. We hug real tight and kiss each other sort of quick what with all them people around.
Jackson says, “I got sump’n I want to say to you.”
You can bet I’m all ears now.
He takes a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and grins sort of sheepishly. “I was afraid I’d get nervous and forget it.”
Suddenly I’m grinning ear to ear just at the thought that he done took the time to think about what he wanted to say to me before I left, and then I’m wishing I’d done something for him, too.
I grab at the heart pendant hung around my neck, making sure it’s still there.
He looks at his paper, then at me. “Savannah . . .” He hesitates, clearing his throat, looking embarrassed. “I love you ’cause you’re smart and funny and different, ’cause you seem full of magic. Somehow, you got the whole world in your pocket, make the stars seem within reach.” He smiles nervously and crumples the paper in his hand. “You go on after your dream, now. I’ll be waiting for you right here when you get back. I know you gonn’ have a real great time.” He hangs his head for a moment, like he’s too shy to look at me all the su
dden.
Sheesh! Can you imagine a guy sounding all poetic, pouring his heart out like that? I am at a loss for words. I just cry and kiss him and bury my head in his shoulder. My eyes catch sight of his shoes and Lordy be . . . he’s wearing a brand-new pair of flip-flops! I’ve been so anxious all morning, I hadn’t even noticed.
They make an announcement for my train, and I know it’s time to go. Painful as it is to be the one walking away, I pick up my luggage, hoist my backpack, and step forward. Once I get settled in my seat, I can see him out the window. I wave, and he smiles at me. I believe he might have even just wiped a tear! This here is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and you know what, my breathing ain’t too bad, a little clunky is all.
As the train lurches into motion and begins to pull out of the station, my heart jumps right on up in my throat as I think back on all the ways my life has transformed in one single solitary summer and all the changes going to be waiting for me when I get back.
Then up out of nowhere comes one of my too-true feelings. Even though everything is going all right, the sense I get is that what’s on the way is even better. I imagine me and Jackson strolling down the beach together when I get home. Only the me in my mind has changed somehow—in a way only I can discern. It’s in the way I hold myself, in the tilt of my head, in the easy swell of my lungs, ’cause what’s different is who I am inside. That new me there has a knowing this me here doesn’t quite have a grasp on yet, a knowing that comes from scaling my own mountain, a knowing that comes from breathing—all on my own.
Acknowledgments
My dream of becoming a published author took many years to realize. There were times along the way when I lost hope and was ready to give up. Luckily, I have always had people in my life who believed in me and kept me going.
My thank you’s begin and end with my family: to my husband, Oded, who dreamed my dreams with me, helped me find my way out when my chosen path was no longer working, pushed me on when I didn’t know if I could continue, served as my medical consultant, and read so many drafts of books with not a single car chase or battle scene; to my daughter, Maya, for reading all my manuscripts, offering helpful guidance, and for her profoundly loving and joyful spirit; to my son, Jonah, for being patient and understanding when I took time to write, for his deeply caring nature, and for always making me smile; to them all for their unwavering belief.
To my parents, Arna Brandel and Bob Lefkowitz, thank you for giving me permission and freedom to believe in my dreams and for providing me with loving support every step of the way. And to my siblings, David, Noah, Mara, and Josh for their encouragement and for being a constant loving presence in my life. Thank you to Jeanne Tsai for believing in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself, and for always being there. To Shawn Register, for reading an early draft, serving as my Southern consultant, and keeping me focused on the positive.
Thank you also to my writing group, facilitated by the ever inspiring Susanne West and “the regulars”—Fred Anlyan and Carrie Vanderwagen. And to the other writing teachers who helped me find my voice—Janell Moon, Lillian Cunningham, and Thea Sullivan. And to my first writing group at Kai One Place, Kailua, Oahu, for their faith in me. I would also like to thank Tom Barron for believing in me and reminding me to never give up. And John Coie, my undergraduate mentor, who upon hearing of my decision to leave the PhD program in psychology, said to me, “Take the time to find your place in this world and feel good about it.” That is my wish for every one of you reading this.
And then, of course, there are the people who made my dream a reality: My deep gratitude goes to my agent, Leigh Feldman, for giving wings to my dream and seeing Savannah’s potential. To Joy Peskin, the most amazing editor, for helping me to make this story whole and complete and for being so available, responsive, and patient throughout this process. And thank you to Regina Hayes and everyone else at Viking Children’s Books for all their work and support. My infinite gratitude to you all.
Of course, I can’t end this without a thank you to Savannah Georgina Brown for jumping into my head and telling me her story.
And, as I said, in the end as in the beginning is always my family. I love you, my special little one; sister of my heart; and boy of my dreams.
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