“No. No. No. I didn’t eat an apple. There are still no apples. But there is a new tree. It’s unlike anything else in the orchard. It sprouted right in the middle of the clearing. That funny squirrel with the notched ear planted an acorn there in the fall. Remember? We used to watch him burying nuts all over the place.”
“Sure I do. That rascal stole a nut straight out of our Cabinet of Curiosities!”
“He did? When?”
“In the fall, before I got sick. I had the wooden box on the front porch one afternoon. I found some speckled pebbles, a red maple leaf, and this really pretty acorn. I arranged everything in the box, with the acorn smack dab in the middle. Then I went inside to get a spoon to mix up some mud pies. When I came back, the acorn was gone. I looked everywhere. Then I saw that squirrel’s furry little behind making a run for it down the driveway.”
“Huh. Well, who knows if it was the same acorn, but whatever that squirrel planted in the clearing grew into the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“What? I thought I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen!” She batted her eyelids, smooshed her nose up like a piglet’s snout, and stuck out her tongue.
“Lovely,” I said. “I suppose the tree is a close second.”
“Better answer.” Junie grinned. “What does it look like?”
“It’s taller than the apple trees, and the bark swirls. The trunk is huge and twisty. The leaves sparkle, almost like your tutu.” I jumped up and grabbed a crayon and a sheet of paper from the little desk in the corner of the room, but nothing I sketched could do the real tree justice. I crumpled up the paper and threw it away.
“How does it work?” Junie asked, her cheeks pinker by the minute. She was starting to believe, I could tell.
“If you plant something in the ground, right at the base of its trunk, these blue roots wiggle down through the dirt like tiny snakes.”
“Blue roots?”
“Yup. They curl around whatever you plant. And then fruit grows.”
“Fruit?” Her nose wrinkled. “I thought you said there were no apples.”
“Not normal fruit. They’re more like pods, with these bizarre peels. Wrapped up inside are versions of whatever you planted. Like shoes. Or cookies. Or bells. Sometimes it takes a day, sometimes longer for them to ripen. Which is crazy, because most trees take months to produce fruit.”
Junie tugged the strings on her cap. Her expression changed. “Isa, are you trying to tell me that this tree is . . . magic?”
I bit my lip. “What else could it be?”
“But you don’t believe in magic.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t at first. But then I saw it, smelled it, touched it, tasted it, heard it. It’s real, Junie.”
She sank into the pillows. She sighed. “As soon I go away, all the fun stuff happens. Phooey.” Then she sat up and clasped one of my hands. Her skin was warm. Her eyes twinkled. “Tell me everything!”
So I did, and Junie gobbled up every detail. I wondered if her heart was racing as quickly as mine. I described the glowing bark, the shifting branches. The way things blossomed, then dissolved into the grass. I shook the iridescent bell and filled the hospital room with music.
“I wish I could see it. I mean, meet it.” She was excited, but I could also see exhaustion setting in. Her eyelids began to droop. She’d probably need a power nap soon.
“You will. As soon as you get better and come home.”
“What are you going to plant next?” She yawned, reaching for the bell. She tucked it under her pillow, as though it were a seed for dreaming.
“I don’t know what to plant. Any suggestions? Or requests?”
Her voice dropped low and serious. “Whatever it is, be careful what you wish for. That’s what all the fairy tales say.” She rested her head on the pillow and pulled her quilt up under her chin.
“A very wise princess you are.”
“Oh! I know!” Her face lit up. Just as she was about to tell me her brilliant idea, Mom and Dad walked in. Mom’s face was long, Dad’s eyes stormier than usual.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked, bolting upright, alarmed by their expressions.
“Nothing,” Mom replied. She started cleaning up our sundae buffet. “Nothing for you to worry about, that is.” Her words were paper-doll flat. Dad stood in the corner, talking on his cell phone with someone from his office. His voice was prickly.
“Dr. Ebbens must’ve said something,” I pressed.
“Everything’s fine.” Maybe Mom thought we were still playing the opposite game.
Junie and I stared at each other. We still hadn’t figured out how to read minds, but I’m pretty sure we both agreed our parents had been replaced by zombie robots. Or maybe Dr. Ebbens had given them brain transplants in the brief time they’d been gone. Not even Gregory’s musicians clanging and banging down the hall could snap them out of their trance. I plugged my ears and winced.
Then a smile flickered across Junie’s face and mine, too, as we enjoyed our shared secret. Soon the little orchestra would sound a whole lot better.
Chapter 19
I was afraid my parents would make us pack up and leave right away, but after Junie took a power nap Mom pulled a stack of cards from her purse and dangled it like bait in front of Dad’s face. He put his phone away and joined us for a few games of Go Fish. I’d started to wonder if my parents would ever relax and be silly with us again, but as we played, we fell into an easy rhythm, teasing each other like we used to.
Paulette came by to take Junie’s temperature and blood pressure and whatever else needed checking, and then we were all ready for a change of scenery. As we wheeled Junie down the halls, she waved at everyone—kids, nurses, doctors, even a janitor. Unlike me, Junie made friends wherever we went. She was warm and bubbly and easy to love. Everyone on her floor seemed to know her name, which made me feel happy and then incredibly sad. Over the last few months, she’d spent more time in that hospital than at home.
Mom proposed joining some other families in the activity room for a craft project, but Junie said she was too tired. She must’ve been truly wiped out, because I’d never seen that kid turn down glue and glitter. When we got back to her room, Mom gave Junie some water to drink. Dad helped her into bed. I made sure the gray rabbit with the torn ear was tucked under her arm. She fell asleep quickly, snoring like a miniature warthog. When she used to sleep in my bed, her snoring drove me absolutely bonkers. Now I thought it was the cutest sound in the entire world.
Mom asked in a quiet voice if I wanted to go home. I told her I’d rather stay and keep Junie company for a bit longer.
“Okay, baby. Do you mind if Dad and I grab a coffee in the cafeteria? We’ll just be gone for a few minutes. You want something? A soda?”
She never let us drink soft drinks, but apparently today was an exception to all the rules. “Sure,” I said. “A Coke?”
“You got it.”
I looked at the clock on the wall. I resisted counting the minutes until they returned. I crossed the room and curled up on the couch by the window. The sun was starting to set. I closed my eyes, thinking about the day we’d spent together as a family. I wanted more of these days. I wanted this to be every day, minus the hospital and cancer part, of course.
I must have drifted off to sleep, because when I woke up my parents were back in the room, speaking in hushed voices. I was facing the window, so they hadn’t seen me open my eyes. Junie was snoring away. I kept still and listened carefully. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I needed to know the real story behind their meeting with Dr. Ebbens, not some candy-coated version.
Mom’s shoes clicked as she walked toward me. I shut my eyes. “She’s out,” Mom said softly. She covered me with one of Junie’s extra blankets. “I don’t blame her. It’s been a long day.” She walked back across the room.
“It’s been a long year,” Dad replied.
“Tell me about it.” Mom sounded drained. “So? What
about Lewis? I know it’s a matter of pride, but we don’t have many options. We’re running out of time to figure this out.”
Running out of time? What did they need to figure out?
“I already spoke to him. He’ll help as much as he can. But he has a family of his own to support. This is more than any of us ever expected.” Dad’s words were unsteady. “We have the mortgage, utility bills, groceries. We’re still behind on our payments from the last round of treatments, not to mention all these recent scans and tests. Plus the upcoming surgery.” He exhaled a heavy breath. I could tell he was making calculations in his brain—not minutes and hours like I did, but dollars and cents. “Even with our insurance, this could bankrupt us.”
I knew it. Everything was not fine.
“I’ll speak with the billing department again,” Mom said. “Maybe we can work something out. The social worker offered to help us apply for some aid packages as well.”
“It’s worth a shot, but the health care system is so complex.”
“The system is broken,” Mom snapped, a little too loudly.
I heard Junie rustle in bed. Mom and Dad stopped talking. A few seconds later, Junie was snoring again. I opened my eyes, just a sliver. I could see my parents’ reflections in the window. Dad’s arm was wrapped around Mom’s shoulders. Her head was buried in his chest. He squeezed her gently, three times. I. Love. You. “We’ll figure this out,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ll pick up more shifts at work. We can sell one of the cars.”
Mom sat up. “Why don’t we sell a few acres of the orchard?”
I felt queasy. I couldn’t let them do that.
“I’ve looked into that too. Turns out our land is more of a liability than an asset. People are superstitious about the Melwick trees.”
Mom huffed. “That’s just small-town gossip. There’s no truth to those ludicrous stories, Nathan.”
If they only knew.
“Well, no one can farm those trees, but no one wants to cut them down either. Better to just forget they’re there at all.”
My hands tightened into fists. I sure as heck didn’t want some developer cutting down the orchard to build shops and parking lots, but the trees didn’t deserve to be forgotten, either.
“There’s value in the house, of course,” Dad continued, “but that would mean . . .”
“I’ll call the hardware store in town,” Mom interrupted, like she refused to entertain whatever Dad was about to say. “Helen Ritter said they’re hiring.”
That hardly seemed like a good solution either. Mom poured all her energy into caring for Junie, then basically collapsed each afternoon. I couldn’t imagine her juggling a new job too. Especially one involving hammers and nails instead of whisks and measuring cups.
“But if we’re both working all day, who will take care of Junie and Isabel?” Mom added, her voice ragged. I ached listening to them, but I was also reassured to know I wasn’t a TLC—a Truly Lost Cause. “What’s the point of all this, if it forces us to abandon the girls when they need us the most?”
Dad coughed. “We’re not abandoning anyone.”
“This hasn’t been easy for either of them, Nathan.”
“I know,” Dad said wearily. “At least Isa’s channeling her energy in positive ways.” My heart plumped up. “Did she tell you? Coach Naron is going to start her in the opening game. It’s a big deal. I promised her we would be there.”
Ugh. My poor, guilty heart shriveled like a raisin.
“You did? But if . . .”
“We have to try our best, Nel.”
Paulette walked in to check on Junie again, and the conversation abruptly came to a halt. A few minutes later, Mom came over and rubbed my back. “Wake up, Isa. Time to go.”
I opened my eyes slowly. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know, but it’s a school night. Dad’s going to take you home. I’ll stay with Junie. You need to get a good night’s rest. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.”
“Okay.” I yawned as though I’d actually slept through their entire conversation.
“Here, baby.” She handed me a can of soda. “Just don’t drink it now. Otherwise the caffeine will keep you up all night.”
Caffeine was the least of my worries. There were plenty of other things guaranteed to keep me up worrying until the wee hours.
Chapter 20
I buckled my seatbelt and stretched my legs across the back seat as the car’s engine rumbled to life and we left the hospital.
Good-bye, good-bye. Repeating like a catchy but annoying song on the radio that gets stuck in your head for days.
Good-bye. Good. Bye. Nothing good about it.
As we merged onto the highway and picked up speed, my mind raced.
Dad turned up the radio and sang along to the lyrics. “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, well you might find, you get what you need . . .” He played the steering wheel like a drum, and hit some high notes that hurt my ears but made me laugh. “You can’t always get what you want,” he sang as the song ended, “unless what you want is a hamburger.”
“Was that a question?” I giggled. “Or your attempt at songwriting?”
Dad smiled at me in the rearview mirror. “There aren’t enough songs about hamburgers, if you ask me.”
“Now you’re making me hungry,” I said.
“Then you’re in luck. There’s a fast food place off the next exit.”
“That sounds good.” I couldn’t believe I was actually hungry again after that gigantic sundae.
Dad signaled and changed lanes. “I think Junie really enjoyed our visit today,” he said.
“Me too.” I tried to sound upbeat, but it was hard to pretend I didn’t know what was really going on.
The car jolted to a stop at the drive-thru window. Our station wagon was pretty old and clunky; surely it wouldn’t fetch enough money to pay all our bills. Besides, if we did sell it, we’d be left with just one car. Between trips to the hospital, the pharmacy, school, work, softball, and all the other places we needed to go each week, I couldn’t figure out how my family would function without it. Things would’ve been a lot easier if we still lived in a city, with public transportation options like trains and buses. Bridgebury did have the county bus line, but there were only a few routes and those ran infrequently.
Selling the car just didn’t make sense. There had to be another way to find the money we needed. While I ate my french fries in the back seat, I brainstormed a plan and got to work.
I began rooting around for coins, which was like an archeological dig. I wedged my fingers between the seat cushions and unearthed a few ancient CrunchyFunPuffs! Next I discovered a crayon, a chunk of prehistoric pretzel, and a tag from a dress Mom bought at a thrift shop. I reached deeper.
I pulled out a paper doll. We could never afford the fancy ones in the stationery store that Junie wanted, so I’d made this one, and many others, by hand. I inspected the doll. She was about ten inches tall, made from faded yellow cardstock and missing all her paper accessories. No purse, tiara, ball gown, or slippers. Even her paper hairdo was gone. Stripped down to nothing but the polka-dot bathing suit Junie insisted I draw on her body to save her from total nakedness. Poor thing had been stuck back here all alone for a very long time.
I laid the rescued doll down on the seat next to me. I would use the tree to solve all our problems. But first I needed to find the right seed.
***
When we got home, Dad immediately set up his computer in the study. While he worked, I ransacked the house, searching for money. I hadn’t excavated a single dime from our station wagon’s seats during the drive. Unfortunately, the tin can above the microwave was empty, and the couch cushions had long since been looted.
“Isabel, what on earth are you doing in there?”
“Turning the house upside down.”
“I hope not!” Dad hollered. “The last thing your mother needs is to come home to a gigantic mes
s.”
“I’ll clean everything up, don’t worry.” Then I had an idea. I poked my head into the study. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yes, Isa?” His patience was wearing thin. “I’m trying to get some work done. What is it?”
“Could I get my lunch money now? One less thing to remember tomorrow morning.”
“Let me see.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped through the compartments. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m out of cash. Used up my last few bucks on dinner. Jam sandwich it is, I guess.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Do you need me to make it for you?”
My shoulders dropped. “Nope. I can do it. Thanks.”
I went into the living room and flopped down in the overstuffed armchair to think. A photograph on the mantel above the fireplace caught my eye. It was similar to the one taped to the wall beside Junie’s bed at the hospital, with Mom and Dad dressed up in fancy clothes for Uncle Lewis and Aunt Sheila’s wedding. Mom wore a string of pearls around her neck. Earrings dangled from her ears. My pulse quickened.
If I couldn’t plant money, I could at least plant something valuable, like jewelry.
Mom’s jewelry box sat on top of the tall dresser in her room. I jumped out of the chair and dashed toward the staircase. Dad stopped me halfway up.
“Wait a second, young lady. You need to clean this disaster zone before going anywhere. You promised, remember?”
Ugh! I went back to the living room and replaced the couch cushions and pillows as fast as I could. I put all the books back on the shelves. I stuffed countless knickknacks back into drawers. I hung each coat back on its hook in the mudroom. Just as I was finishing, I heard my dad shut down his computer and climb the stairs.
“I’m going to bed,” he called out. “I’m fried. You should get some rest too, Isa.”
“Yup. Coming soon.” I groaned. “Just going to make that sandwich for lunch tomorrow.”
My mission would have to wait until morning. After he left for work, I’d try again.
Chapter 21
The Magic of Melwick Orchard Page 15