The Spirit of Cattail County

by Victoria Piontek

  Mason took the photo. He smiled. “Yes.”

  “You loved her,” Sparrow said. “Johnny told me you fell in love at the flea market while looking through a bin of old gospel records.”

  Mason nodded. “I did love her. With all my heart, and it’s true I fell in love with her that night. But she loved someone else.”

  “Who?” Sparrow asked.

  “I don’t know. She never told me. Did you know she’d gone away to college?”

  Sparrow nodded. She had a vague memory of Mama mentioning it, but she didn’t know any details about her time at college. There was so much Sparrow didn’t know about Mama and so many things they never got to talk about. That was one of the hardest things about Mama being gone. All of her chances to know Mama and for Mama to know Sparrow stopped the day she died.

  “She did. She was so smart. She was always real good in school. She got a scholarship and everything. Anyway, she’d come home that first summer bursting with new ideas and in love with someone else. This photo of her was for someone else. The writing on the back was for someone else. She dropped it, and I picked it up. I should have given it back to her. But knowing she was in love with someone else … Lordy, it ached.” Mason clasped his hands in front of him and stared at the horizon as if the past were being reenacted there.

  Sparrow waited for him to continue.

  “That fall, she left again, and by the time she came back for Christmas, I was gone. I couldn’t stay here without her. Everything reminded me of her. The clouds, the grass, the rain … love’s a powerful thing.”

  Sparrow swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s how I feel.” The words struggled out, barely a whisper.

  “I know,” Mason said. “It will get better.”

  “How?”

  “Time is the only thing. You’ll never forget her, but sometime, sooner than you think, it won’t hurt so much to think on her. The memories will be good.”

  A breeze made the oak leaves overhead shiver and sunlight dappled Mason’s face.

  “I thought you were trying to get custody of me,” Sparrow said, circling back to their earlier conversation.

  “I know. Johnny, the lawyer. Those two.” Mason shook his head.

  At the thought of Johnny and Maeve, a fresh wave of heartache washed over Sparrow. She’d not only lost a father; she’d lost a whole family. Since her allegiance with Maeve and Johnny, Sparrow had not felt so alone. Now she was back where she’d started, the last Dalton offspring with Auntie Geraldine her only living relative. Sparrow really was an orphan.

  “Should we give you a lift home?”

  “No.” Sparrow shook her head. “I’ll walk.”

  Mason patted Sparrow on the knee, and Sparrow saw the contrast of his skin against hers. His skin was the ruddy, sun-baked color of bricks while hers was the same tawny shade she wore year-round. The shade of her skin didn’t depend on the season, like Mason’s. No. He wasn’t her father, and deep down she’d known that all along.

  “I wish I was your dad, Sparrow. You’re a great kid.”

  Sparrow nodded. Wishing he was her dad wasn’t the same thing as him being her dad.

  Sparrow did not go home. Instead, she went to get the Boy’s watch.

  She’d lost an entire family and her hope of saving Dalton House in the course of an afternoon, and the only thing keeping her going was knowing that when she returned the watch to the Boy, he would bring Mama back as he promised.

  At the thought of Mama, Sparrow’s heart twisted. She would have never gone looking for a daddy over at the Castos if Mama had been by her side. Navigating the world without Mama was like being cast adrift without a compass. Mama’s love for Sparrow was her true north, the magnetic pull that kept her on course. Without it, Sparrow didn’t know how to find her way.

  When Sparrow got to the flea market, she noticed the quiet emptiness of the field. A few tourists poked through half-packed boxes, but the hustle and bustle of previous days had died. The flea market was winding down for the year.

  Sparrow found Elena’s periwinkle van and knocked softly on the door.

  “Who is it?” Elena asked in her curt, un-Beulah-like manner.

  “It’s me.”

  Elena slid the door open, and when she saw Sparrow, her brow creased. “Everything okay?”

  Sparrow knew her red, swollen eyes told their own tale. “It’s a long story.”

  Elena moved aside so Sparrow could climb into the van and then peeked out the door. “Are Maeve and Johnny with you?”

  Sparrow flinched. The mention of Maeve and Johnny stung like salt on a wound. “No.”

  “Are they hiding somewhere?” Elena looked around the field dramatically, trying to cheer Sparrow.

  “Not this time,” Sparrow said, answering Elena’s lighthearted comment without humor.

  Elena’s smile faded, and worry softened her voice. “That bad, huh? Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Sparrow longed to tell Elena all about the party. It would be a relief to share how she felt with her friend, but shame and sadness constricted her throat, making it hard to speak.

  “I came to pick up my watch from Eli and to tell you what I found at the archives.”

  “Tell me everything.” Elena pulled Sparrow over to the little table to sit down. She pushed aside a suitcase that lay open on the bench. Elena had been packing.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “We are. The flea market is winding down, and it’s time to head back to New York.” Elena’s impending departure felt like another blow. Sparrow didn’t know if she had the strength to keep losing people she cared about.

  “What about your trip? Following in your grandmother’s footsteps?”

  Elena smiled. “Beulah was the last stop. And I’m ready to go home. It’s weird, but hanging out in Beulah with you guys has made me feel …” Elena shrugged. “Don’t laugh, but like it’s okay to be me. It won’t be so hard at school next year knowing I have three friends down here who like the tarot card me and the regular me. Who knows, maybe next summer, Eli will bring me back.”

  Sparrow knew exactly what Elena meant. Maeve and Johnny had made her feel that way too.

  “Anyway, tell me how you got into the archives.”

  Sparrow told Elena about making Auntie Geraldine take her to the Monroes’ and tricking Ansley into saying she’d invited her over. When Sparrow told Elena about the lemonade, she laughed at just the right place.

  “So, what did you find out?”

  Sparrow handed Elena the newspaper article about the Monroes adopting the Boy. “You thought to ask for a copy? That was smart. Eli does that.”

  Sparrow shrugged. “I’m glad I did. I didn’t have a chance to read both articles all the way through at the Monroes’. When I got home, I found out something really important in the second one.”

  Elena bit her lip as she read the first article. When she finished, she looked up and said, “Those poor kids. It must have been terrible for them to be shipped off to strangers. I wish I knew how they ended up. I hope they found good homes.”

  “Me too.” Sparrow thought about the other kids on the train. She hoped, unlike the Boy, their stories had happy endings.

  “Do you think the orphan adopted by the Beulah family is your ghost?” Elena asked, pulling Sparrow from her reverie.

  “I know it’s him.” Sparrow showed Elena the second article. “Mr. Monroe told me that the orphan died in the marsh near my house when he tried to run away after stealing a Monroe family heirloom.”

  “This story is so sad.” Elena took the article from Sparrow. “And you said you’ve been seeing him out there lately.”

  “Yes, wandering in circles as if he’s looking for something.” Every time Sparrow remembered the way the Boy looked in the marsh, her stomach coiled.

  “And you think he’s looking for the heirloom?”

  “Yep.”

  “So all you have to do is find it and return it to him,” Elena said enco
uragingly.

  “I already have. It’s my watch.”

  “Your watch is the Monroes’ family heirloom?” Elena’s forehead furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Sparrow handed Elena the page from Mr. Monroe’s book, Orphan Trains: Small Towns, Big Hearts.

  Elena looked at the shredded edges. “Did you rip this out of a book?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. We have five more copies at home. Mr. Monroe gave me a copy and my aunt bought five at the charity auction. She loves the Monroes.”

  Elena’s eyebrows shot up. “The ones who own the archives?”

  “Yep. Long story.” Sparrow pointed to the picture of the boy standing in the middle of the front row next to the other children. The pocket watch dangled from his hand. “That’s my watch.”

  “Can I look closer?”

  Sparrow handed Elena the photograph.

  She studied the picture thoughtfully. “Is that what your ghost looks like?”

  “Exactly.”

  Elena took a deep breath, as if she was trying to gather her feelings. “He looks really sad.”

  “I know.”

  “Wait, if he has the watch in this picture and the Monroes said he ran away with it, how did you end up with it?”

  “That confused me too until I read the second article.” Sparrow told Elena the Boy’s complete story. “After he took his watch back, he ran away from the Monroes and somehow managed to make his way out to my house. It’s really far and there is a lot of untamed land between our places. My house must have looked like a safe haven after all that wild. He hid on my front porch, but when he heard the barking of the hounds, he ran into the marsh to make them lose his scent. I think he must have dropped the watch or maybe even hidden it before running away from the dogs. He might have survived if the full moon hadn’t caused a king tide.”

  Sadness clouded Elena’s features and her voice got soft. “No wonder his soul has been trapped here.”

  Sparrow nodded, and both girls became quiet, almost reverent, as the meaning of Elena’s words enveloped them.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” The girls looked up to see Eli standing at the door of the van. He wore jeans and a linen dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His tattoo peeked out from under his sleeve, but he stood too far away for Sparrow to read the words.

  “That’s okay,” Sparrow said. “I was showing Elena what I got from the Beulah archives.” Sparrow handed Eli the newspaper articles.

  He looked at them. “You thought to ask for copies? Well done. You have the instincts of a historian.” Eli clapped Sparrow on the shoulder proudly, the way a father might.

  On a different day, Sparrow would have been delighted by Eli’s fatherly admiration, but in that moment, his paternal gesture reminded Sparrow of what she would never have.

  Eli quickly scanned the article. “Of course, this sugarcoats the truth.”

  “What do you mean?” Sparrow asked.

  “It doesn’t mention that this child would be indentured to the Monroes until he was twenty-one. Some of these kids were forced to work for their adopting families without pay until they were old enough to leave.”

  Anger sizzled in Sparrow’s belly. “That’s not fair.”

  “No, but that’s the way these placements worked. The children were given a home, and in return the kids became the property of the families that took them in. Everything they owned became the property of the adopting family. The families had to agree to treat the orphans as one of their own, but they didn’t always honor their agreement. A lot of times the families never even adopted them officially, so technically some of these kids stayed orphans their entire lives. While some of the kids had happy endings, some didn’t. It was the luck of the draw, and the children had no choice in the decision. It looks like this child had one of the unhappy endings.”

  “Wesley Monroe said the orphan they adopted stole from them and died in the marsh while trying to run away.” The injustice of the entire situation shook Sparrow’s core. It went against everything she knew to be right. The Boy’s early death was tragic enough without his memory being tainted by a false accusation.

  “If he risked the dangers of the marsh rather than staying with his adopting family, something must have made him desperate enough to leave.”

  Sparrow felt tears prick her eyes at the thought of the Boy suffering and quickly blinked them away before Eli noticed. Elena hadn’t missed her reaction, though. She slipped her hand into Sparrow’s and squeezed.

  “He was wrongly accused,” Sparrow said, wanting to set the record straight.

  “These kids, especially the boys, were often treated with suspicion. They came from poor families in big cities. Occasionally, the country folks that took in these children thought their very natures were corrupt. Sometimes you still see that kind of prejudice toward inner-city kids, even today when people know better.” Eli paused.

  A sad quiet settled over the van. Sparrow felt like the marsh was listening to them tell the Boy’s story.

  “Do you think Mr. Monroe’s ancestors lied about what happened? Mr. Monroe didn’t even know what the family heirloom was. He said that part of the story had gotten lost over time.”

  “What is your theory?” Eli asked.

  “I think the orphan ran away with his own heirloom, but the Monroes wanted it. So they claimed it belonged to them and that the orphan stole it.”

  “Could be. If there were any sort of wrongdoing on the Monroes’ part, they wouldn’t want to ruin the family’s reputation by admitting it. People sometimes think it’s easier to cover up injustice rather than apologize for it or make amends.”

  Sparrow nodded. That made sense. The Monroes were well respected and they were proud of their family name. Wrongly accusing a young boy in their care of stealing and then causing his death would be a blight on their reputation. She thought about the swirling spirits and the way they protected the grave. She had felt overwhelming sadness when she placed her hand on the tombstone, and now she knew why. The Boy had a heartbreaking story, and the spirits were acknowledging the sorrow of his death.

  Sparrow could set things right. “I came for my watch.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Eli handed Sparrow a velvet jewelry box.

  “Is my watch in here?” The box was so fancy.

  “It is. And I have some exciting news. It’s a Patek Philippe.”

  “What is a Patek Philippe?”

  “A watchmaker famous for the quality of its watches, and this one is a prime example. It is eighteen-carat gold, not brass or plate. Not only that, it has a solid gold wheel.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you should lock it up in a safety deposit box until you need a lot of money. That watch is worth a small fortune.”

  Sparrow opened the box. The watch had been polished to a high sheen, and it no longer looked like junk. “Small fortune? How much?”

  “Depends on finding the right buyer, but …” Eli shrugged. “Enough to buy a big house, maybe more.”

  “Enough to buy a house?” Sparrow repeated dazedly.

  Eli had just handed Sparrow a small fortune. Exactly what she needed to save Dalton House and the marsh.

  Twilight had settled over Beulah by the time Sparrow got home.

  Frogs croaked, fireflies flashed, and the moon shone over the marsh. Full and round, it dominated the sky like the sun’s jealous sibling. She gazed up at the moon and thought about king tides and her Boy. Her heart lurched.

  She knew what it felt like to have a voracious need to hold tight to the time before the sadness came. Sparrow wanted any shred of Mama she could get.

  As she walked up the driveway, Sparrow tried to figure out how her plans had fallen apart. The day had started perfectly. She had found a daddy to love her, a plan to save Dalton House, friends, a way to help the Boy find peace, and the key to getting Mama back.

  Everything she desired had been within her grasp, but it had unfurled
like a spool of thread.

  Sparrow clutched the pocket watch. She could either use it to save Dalton House and the marsh from destruction or give it to the Boy, and with that gesture, ensure Mama’s return.

  She slipped the watch into her pocket.

  There was no choice. She wanted Mama back.

  Sparrow walked into the kitchen to find Auntie Geraldine hanging up the phone.

  Auntie Geraldine took one look at Sparrow, and her lips pulled into a thin, tight line.

  Auntie Geraldine knew.

  “How could you? You made a fool of yourself and me.”

  The embarrassment of the day swept over her like a flood. “I wouldn’t have made that mistake if Mama hadn’t left me with someone who hated me.”

  “You think I hate you?”

  “I know it. You took everything I loved and ripped it to shreds like you said you would.”

  “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

  Auntie Geraldine’s denial made Sparrow furious. “You told the Castos they couldn’t be friends with me.”

  “I wanted you to fit in with nice folks!”

  “Like the Monroes?”

  “Yes, exactly like them.”

  “You’re selling Dalton House.”

  “You’ll adjust.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You’ll have to. There’s no other choice.”

  Sparrow pressed on. She wanted Auntie Geraldine to hear the full extent of her crimes.

  “You threw away Mama’s belongings.”

  “I donated them to charity. It’s what’s done when someone dies. Every time I walked by her room I saw reminders of her. She’s gone. It’s time to let her go.”

  “I can’t.” The ache in Sparrow’s soul ran so deep she could barely breathe. She would never let Mama go. Never. She started to sob.

  “Sparrow.” Auntie Geraldine stepped toward her.

  “Stay away from me.” Sparrow stepped back.

  Auntie Geraldine took another step toward Sparrow. “There are too many memories here. Too many distractions. You’ll feel better once we leave this house.”