Fly Like a Bird

by Jana Zinser

  She pulled herself into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut just as Miles stumbled towards the truck. Ivy gunned it in reverse, still holding the baby tightly with one arm. Miles grabbed the door and it swung open.

  But the Monstrosity squealed and sped backward out of the parking lot, dropping Miles to the pavement. Ivy put it in drive and pulled onto the street, leaving Miles on the ground and the baby saved, but Maggie was doomed.

  Ivy called the police from the pay phone by the bar. When Ivy led them into the apartment, Maggie was barely alive; and Miles was long gone.

  At six o’clock in the morning, Ivy left Maggie’s room at St. Joseph Medical Center. She needed to stretch her legs and get a hot cup of tea. The few stitches in her head hurt. Carly lay sleeping in a crib that the hospital staff brought down from the children’s floor. Ivy left Carly and Maggie in the care of the nurses and the hospital security officer who stood outside their room.

  She rode the elevator to the cafeteria in the basement. The elevator door wobbled open and Ivy saw Miles standing in the hall. He spotted Ivy and sprinted to the elevator, panting and seething like a pit bull attacking. He wore a dirty, blood-stained T-shirt and his dreadlocks dripped with sweat. Ivy pounded the elevator buttons but Miles slammed his hand in between the closing doors and they opened back up.

  “It’s over,” he said.

  Ivy trembled with rage and fear. She knew Miles was capable of murder. “No, it’s not. How did you find us?”

  “I called the hospitals.” Miles lunged at Ivy, grabbing her around the neck. He pulled her out of the elevator and forced her into the empty passageway. “If you hadn’t butted in, Maggie wouldn’t be hurt right now. This is all your fault.”

  A door opened down the hall and a big man pushing a mop in a silver rolling bucket emerged from a swinging gray metal door. Miles released Ivy, shoving her into the wall. Ivy sucked in air and grabbed the wall for support. Miles turned his back to the cleaning man who had interrupted his plan.

  Miles pressed one hand against the wall by Ivy’s face and the vein in his neck pulsed. “I told you no one leaves me. I’ll get what belongs to me. You can count on that.”

  The cleaning man stepped closer to Ivy. “Miss, you okay?”

  Miles turned and pushed past the man, almost knocking over the silver bucket, and dashed down the hall.

  Maggie was in critical condition, floating in and out of consciousness when Otis and Pinky arrived at the hospital after their drive from Coffey.

  Ivy sat by the bed, holding her hand. “Your parents are here,” she whispered to Maggie.

  Maggie stirred and opened her eyes.

  Pinky sat down and stroked her daughter’s face. Her eyes were red and ringed with dark circles. “We’re here. Don’t worry.”

  Bandages wrapped most of Maggie’s head, but some blood had soaked through, the red stains a horrifying contrast to the white bandage. She looked up at her mother and father. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine,” Pinky said as she coughed and tried to clear her throat.

  Maggie barely shook her head. “I’m not going to make it.” Her breathing slowed from the effort of speaking. She grabbed Ivy’s arm. “Don’t let Miles get her. I want you to raise her.”

  Ivy’s heart pounded. “Me?” She couldn’t take care of Maggie’s child. A baby was too much responsibility, too heavy a burden. Ivy looked at Otis and Pinky. “What about your mom and dad? They’re her grandparents.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Everyone deserves a mother, too. You know that. She needs you.”

  Ivy’s breathing grew shallow. “Maggie, I don’t know. I don’t think I can.”

  Maggie gazed at Ivy with her brown eyes. Ivy shook her head, feeling trapped. She searched for another way out. “I’m white, remember?”

  Maggie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and reached out her hand. Her voice sounded faint as if she was speaking from a distance. “Hearts have no skin color. I want you to be her mother. Please promise me.”

  Ivy shook her head. She looked at Otis and Pinky put her arm around her. “We’ll help you. You won’t be alone.”

  Ivy sighed. There was no escaping. She touched her mother’s heart necklace. Carly needed somebody; and Grandma didn’t seem completely well.

  “All right, Maggie. I promise. I’ll never let anything bad happen to her.” But fear raced through her. Now she’d be trapped in Coffey forever. She’d need help raising the baby and she couldn’t take Carly away from Otis and Pinky, the only biological family Carly had left.

  Maggie died that night from head wounds inflicted by the man she loved. Ivy, at twenty-two, the same age as Barbara when she had Ivy, became Carly’s new mother.

  Chapter 29

  EVERY ENDING CREATES A BEGINNING

  The next night, Ivy found Grandma on the couch with one of Pinky’s handmade quilts pulled up to her neck, although the house was stifling hot. Grandma raised her head, her eyes wide, looking surprised. “Oh, my, it’s just you, Ivy, dear.”

  Ivy lay the sleeping baby next to Grandma on the couch. She sat down and hugged Grandma, breathing in her lilac smell. “You okay?”

  Grandma patted Ivy’s arm. “Sure enough. You just looked so much like your mother standing there, it startled me for a second.” Grandma looked intensely at Ivy as if trying to distinguish Ivy’s features from Barbara’s. “I’m just a little tired. Would you like something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry, but I could go for a cold Dr. Pepper. I went to the Baker Funeral Home with Otis to make the funeral arrangements for tomorrow. I’m going to put Carly to bed, and then let’s go sit on the porch and watch the night settle in.”

  “That sounds good.” Grandma sat up slowly. She kissed the sleeping baby and looked up at Ivy. “She’s beautiful isn’t she?”

  Ivy nodded with tears in her eyes.

  Grandma patted her cheek. “I’m sorry for all your troubles.”

  Ivy touched the bandage covering the stitches on her head. “Thanks, Grandma,” she said, kissing her on the cheek.

  She trudged upstairs and lay the baby on her bed. She surrounded Carly with piles of pillows. She would have to buy a crib soon.

  Then she met Grandma in the kitchen and poured cold pop into two glasses. “So, Grandma, can we talk about something other than death for a little while?”

  “Of course.”

  When her hair had grown back after the chemo, Grandma let it go back to its natural color, a glossy silver-gray, like the silky pussy willows growing at Beecher Pond. Grandma put her hand on Ivy’s arm.

  “What did the birds have to say today?” Ivy asked.

  “Well, I think Sir Lancelot and Miss Susie are in love.” Grandma was talking about two thrushes she had named. “My goodness, the silly love games they play. She’s so standoffish whenever he ruffles his feathers. Neither one knows the other feels the same. Some people are like that too, you know.” Grandma rocked back in her chair.

  Ivy smiled. “Did you outsmart the squirrels today?”

  Grandma’s lifetime rivalry with the squirrels had only intensified over the years. “No, but I’m determined to be rid of those bushy-tailed rodents if it’s the last thing I do. Those crafty squirrels know exactly what they’re doing. They dug up my potted nasturtiums this morning just to spite me.”

  Ivy laughed at the devious squirrels, plotting their retribution against Grandma. It felt good to think about something else besides tragedy.

  They walked out to the back porch carrying their drinks. Grandma pointed to the trees. “Sometimes I see the squirrels spying on me from the woods, their beady little eyes just daring me to try and stop them. One day I looked out and one of those nasty squirrels was rocking in my chair, just having a good old time. I couldn’t believe the audacity of the loathsome little fellow.” She sat down in her old pine rocker.

  Ivy sank into the green metal glider next to Grandma and sipped the cold Dr. Pepper, listeni
ng to the hushed night sounds. Ivy breathed in the fresh Iowa night air. She loved how the smell of the air changed as summer ended and autumn approached. The fragrance became more earthy and somewhat musty, like the smell of dry leaves crushed in the palm of a hand.

  Grandma tapped the wooden floorboards with her tennis shoe. “A good porch can cure a lot of ills.”

  Ivy pulled up her legs and hugged her knees. “All my life I’ve been trying to get away from here. But leaving Coffey will have to wait. I’ve got Carly now.”

  “Yes, but you know, maybe life is what you make it. I’ve found it’s not so much where you live, but who you share it with. You have to find your joy in the people around you.”

  The fireflies flickered like tiny lanterns floating on the summer breeze. Ivy slapped a mosquito on her arm, never stopping the glider’s movement. “Grandma, have you had a happy life?”

  “Mostly, and that’s all you can ask for. But we’ll both have to face the fact that my life is nearing an end.” Grandma stopped rocking and she reached out her hand to Ivy. “I’ve always believed that every ending creates a beginning. When I die, you’ll have to find another beginning. You’ll be just fine. As for me, death is only a door to another world.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about death.”

  Grandma squeezed Ivy’s hand. Her eyes grew teary and she cleared her throat. “It was a good thing you did for that baby. Children are a blessing, that’s for sure.” Grandma sipped her pop. “So much of life is just the willingness to take a risk and accept the consequences. Being able to make the right choice at the right time isn’t always easy to do. Most of the time we just try and survive the bad times in order to get to the good times. That’s what life is all about, I’ve found.”

  Ivy’s feet pushed off the porch floor and the glider swayed. “I just miss Maggie so much.” Ivy sighed. “You know, I guess I didn’t really ask you how you felt about Carly coming to live with us.”

  Grandma set her empty glass on the porch floor. “You know, as you get older, your family and friends start dying, leaving holes in your life where their souls used to be. That’s why old people love babies so much. Because babies fill the spaces left by the souls that are gone. I need a baby in my life, to fill up some of my holes, and maybe you do too. Yes, indeedy, she’s very welcome.”

  “I just don’t think I can do it.”

  “Do what, dear?”

  “Raise Carly.”

  “Of course you can. There’s something about a heart that can’t help but be touched by a child.”

  “But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to her. How to protect her.”

  “Yes, you will, the same way we all do. You muddle through. You do the best you can.”

  Ivy tapped her fingers on the metal arm of the glider. “You know Conrad Thrasher will probably have something to say about you having a great-grandchild with brown skin.”

  Grandma’s eyes flashed with anger. Her hands danced in the air. “Land sakes, I do not concern myself with what Conrad Thrasher thinks or says. And for your information, little missy, I’ve loved my other great-grandchild for a long time.”

  Ivy planted her feet on the porch and the glider stopped in mid-swing. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh, pshaw. For crying out loud.” Grandma sighed and shook her head. “Well, you should know before I go, anyway.”

  The porch boards creaked under the rhythm of the old pine rocker. Grandma’s eyes were watery and her voice filled with emotion. “Justin Roberts is my great-grandson.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Grandma slapped her knees. “Oh, fiddlesticks. Justin Roberts is Angela’s son. There, I’ve said it. It’s done.”

  “What? Does Uncle Tommy know?”

  “Heavens, no. He’s the one who made her give the baby away. She got pregnant during her senior year of high school and he told her to leave town. Didn’t want anyone to know. Thinks the child is somewhere far away.”

  “I thought she went to Europe that year.”

  “That’s what Tommy told everybody.”

  “But why did you let her give Justin away?”

  “That wasn’t my decision. Angela needed to make her own life choices. It wasn’t easy for her. She was scared to death of her father. You know how long Tommy can hold a grudge.”

  Ivy stood up and the old porch boards creaked. “But what about Justin? Angela was his mother.”

  Grandma reached for the handkerchief tucked in her stuffed bra. “Believe me, I’ve cried many nights over that little boy.” She wiped away her tears.

  Ivy paced the porch. The night breeze rustled the leaves in the trees and the air still smelled faintly of freshly cut grass. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Grandma started rocking again.

  “You weren’t even a teenager yourself when Justin was born. You were the last person Angela wanted to know about the baby. She was ashamed and she figured you’d ride your bike over there and bring him home. Everyone has a right to their own secrets.”

  Ivy stopped her frantic pacing. “But doesn’t Justin have a right to not have secrets? Doesn’t he have a right to grow up with his mother?”

  “We make choices for children based on what we think is best for them. Sometimes you look back and realize you were wrong, but at the time, you did the best you could. I know I’ve made mistakes. We all do. But Justin is with the other side of his family. Ben is his father. Miss Shirley is his grandmother and one of the best mothers on this earth. Justin grew up in good hands and I did the best I could to send Miss Shirley a little money and check up on him from time to time.”

  A hoot owl called from the woods and Ivy sat back down on the glider. “I can’t believe no one ever told me.”

  “Ivy, not everything you know to be true will stay that way. But be kind when that happens. Time can change your perspective.” Grandma rubbed the well-worn arms of her rocker and looked into the woods. A dog barked in the distance. “Some secrets can weigh a person down. My heart feels much lighter having told you about Justin. I’m glad you know now.”

  She sighed, as if releasing a heavy load. “Ivy, I’m too old now to change anything, but when I die, I want you to bring Justin home. He belongs here, too. Help Angela find her way back to him. You know you’re the only one that can do it. Will you do that for me?”

  “Yes, Grandma. I will do that for you and for Justin.”

  The owl’s lonesome hooting began again.

  “I know Angela was never very nice to you, but she didn’t have an easy life growing up. She didn’t want to give Justin away, but her father left her no choice.”

  Ivy shivered, not from the cool night breeze, but from something inside her. “I know. I wouldn’t want him to be my father, but Angela still had a choice. She chose Uncle Tommy over her own child.”

  Grandma’s silvery thin hair moved with the night breeze. “What we did was wrong. For Angela and for Justin. You have to make it right. My soul will not rest until Justin is accepted as part of this family. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you. Lord knows we can’t have another restless soul in Coffey. I’d probably find you floating around with the other spooks over at Reuben’s place.”

  “There may not be enough room for me over there.”

  That week’s Coffey Gazette printed Maggie’s obituary, announcing her funeral would take place at six o’clock on Monday evening at the Baker Funeral Home.

  On the day of the funeral, Otis and Ivy carrying Carly went to the sheriff’s office in the basement of the county courthouse. Otis took off his brown plaid cap and cleared his throat. “Sheriff Carter, we’re here because we’re afraid Maggie’s boyfriend—his name is Miles Jones—will show up at her funeral today. He murdered my daughter.” His voice choked, and his eyes filled with tears.

  Ivy shifted Carly high on her hip. “We think he might try and take Maggie’s baby.”

  Charlie pointed to the baby. “Is this his
biological offspring?”

  Otis nodded and Ivy hugged the curly-haired baby. “There’s a warrant for his arrest in Kansas City and I got emergency custody this morning.” She handed him the legal papers.

  Charlie sniffed and wiggled his nose. “I’ll call the authorities down there and get a read on this Miles Jones guy. If it warrants protection, I’ll swing by the church.”

  Otis twisted his cap in his hands. “Thanks, sheriff. I appreciate it.”

  Charlie tipped his head in a short nod. “Sorry about your girl.”

  “Thank you.” Otis walked to the door. “I need to check on Pinky. I’ll see you at the church, Ivy.”

  “I’ll be there early,” Ivy said as she waved goodbye.

  Once Otis had left, Charlie turned and scowled at Ivy. “Ivy, you’re not really going to keep that baby, are you? Don’t you have enough to worry about with Violet so sick and all?”

  She kissed the baby’s soft cheek. “I’m going to keep her. Children are the best medicine for Grandma. Fills up her holes.”

  Charlie’s radio screeched. His deputy needed help removing some runaway cows that were blocking traffic on old Highway 69. “Got to extract some bovine. I’ll call about that Miles Jones situation when I get back.”

  Charlie adjusted his gun belt, put on his hat, and headed out the door to the urgent herding of unruly cows. Carly let out a short cry. Her baby sounds seemed out of place in the empty sheriff’s office. Ivy rubbed the little girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, I know. But you’ll get used to him.”

  On her way out, Ivy noticed the unlocked padlock dangling from the file cabinet. She looked around. Charlie wouldn’t be back for a while. The cells in the back were empty. The clerks were at lunch. She put Carly on her hip and opened the file cabinet. She rummaged through the top drawer and the middle drawer, looking for the accident reports.

  The phone rang and Ivy jumped. She looked around and quickly opened the bottom drawer. In the back, she found an accident report dated December 14, 1959. She pulled the file out and opened it. It was the sheriff’s report on her father’s accident. She scanned the report and read the last sentence. “Accident found to be due to ice. Witness Tommy Taylor reported his brother’s car was going too fast to stop when it hit a patch of black ice at an intersection. He was hit by an 18-wheeler. The car spun around and careened into the back of the Greyhound bus he had been following.”