Welcome Home, Mary Anne

by Ann M. Martin

  I loved my room. It was spacious and full of light, like the rest of the house. I’d chosen a blue-and-yellow color scheme (two of my favorite colors) for a fresh, clean look. Sharon had helped me shop for curtains, a bedspread, and a rug. My new bed was comfortable, and I had a new desk for homework. The closet was huge, especially considering that I didn’t have many clothes to fill it. I pictured myself in the room, doing homework on a winter evening. My desk lamp would cast a warm glow as snowflakes danced outside.

  I put my pillow on my bed, arranging it just so. I hoped Tigger would curl up next to it that night, as he usually did. And in a flash I remembered how Tigger had woken me up that awful night of the fire. I shook my head to make the memory go away. I wanted to create new memories in this new house, not hang on to the old ones. This was an opportunity for a fresh beginning. I would have to start noticing new things. The sooner I did that, the sooner I’d feel at home here.

  I heard Dad and Sharon walking around downstairs. It was probably time to head home to pack up the van we’d rented. I took one last glance around the room, adjusted the pillow again, and walked out, closing the door behind me.

  Sharon and Dad were talking about ideas for rearranging the furniture slightly in order to fit in the few items we’d be bringing over. They broke off when I came down the stairs. “How does your room look, sweetie?” asked my dad.

  “Great,” I answered. “The whole house looks great.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He put one arm around me and the other around Sharon. “Welcome home,” he said.

  Home. I leaned my head against the car window. It was Monday morning, a couple of days later, and Sharon and I were on our way to the airport. In just under an hour, I’d be reunited with my stepsister and best friend. I was excited.

  I was also tired. Despite my father’s “welcome home” wishes, and despite the fact that our new house was beautiful, comfortable, and perfect in every way, I still didn’t feel at home in it. For one thing, I wasn’t able to sleep. I’d tossed and turned for most of the last few nights.

  What was missing? Why couldn’t I just relax and accept that I was home? I would lie in bed, wide awake, thoughts drifting. Images of our old house would spring into my mind. I pictured the front porch where I’d spent so much time reading in the hammock, the kitchen where Sharon had first shown me how to make a tofu burger (still not my favorite food), my cozy little bedroom.

  I also thought about the house where I’d grown up, the one my dad and I shared for all those years. I even thought about my grandmother’s house in Iowa. I’d never had any trouble feeling at home anywhere else. Why was it so hard now?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Sharon said, glancing my way while we waited for a light to turn green.

  I gave her a weak smile. “They aren’t worth a penny.” It was silly to feel this way and I knew it. I had no cause for complaint. I was ashamed to even tell Sharon what I was thinking. “Do you think Dawn’s plane will be on time?” I asked, changing the subject.

  Sharon nodded. “I called before we left the house,” she told me. “According to the airline, everything’s on schedule.”

  “Great,” I said. “I can’t wait to see her and Jeff.”

  “I can’t either.” We drove in silence for a moment. Then Sharon cleared her throat. “I guess this visit will be a little different for all of us, with Sunny coming,” she said.

  I felt a little twinge in my stomach. “I guess.” I hadn’t thought much about it, maybe because I didn’t want to. But the fact was, this visit would be different. Dawn and Jeff weren’t the only ones arriving on that plane. Dawn’s California best friend, Sunny Winslow, would be on it too.

  I’ve met Sunny. And I like her. She’s smart and fun and has a lot of energy. But this time I was a little nervous about being around her. “Do you think she’s still really sad?” I asked Sharon.

  Sharon let out a sigh. “I do,” she said. “It hasn’t been that long since — ”

  “I know,” I said quickly. Sharon didn’t have to spell it out. And of course I knew Sunny would still be sad. After all, her mom had died. That’s what Sharon had been about to say.

  I’d heard a lot about Mrs. Winslow’s illness and death. Dawn had been very close to Sunny’s mom, so it had affected her deeply too. She’d talked about it a lot during our phone calls. It sounded horrible. Mrs. Winslow had had lung cancer, and she was in a lot of pain before she died. During the worst part of her illness, Sunny and Dawn were having friendship troubles, but they made up just before Mrs. Winslow died. And I have the feeling they’re closer than ever now. They’ve been through a lot together — stuff I can’t even imagine.

  Mrs. Winslow was at home when she died. Dawn had a chance to say good-bye, which I know meant a lot to both of them. And Sunny was with her mother when she died.

  Okay, the truth? I was nervous about Sunny’s visit for a couple of reasons. One, because of her mom’s death. I wasn’t sure what to say to her or how to act. I lost my mom too, but since I don’t even remember her, it’s really not the same. Was Sunny going to cry all the time? Be extra sensitive about things? Was she going to want to talk about her mom? It was a little scary.

  Two, I felt jealous of how close Sunny and Dawn must be after going through that experience together. I mean, I know Dawn doesn’t live here anymore, and our friendship has changed because of that. We’re still best friends, but in a different, long-distance kind of way. It was going to be hard to see her with her real, everyday best friend. Where was I going to fit into the picture?

  Sharon somehow sensed what I was thinking. She reached over to pat my hand. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she told me gently.

  “I hope so,” I answered. “I guess Sunny really needed to get away, didn’t she?”

  Sharon nodded. “She has a lot to sort out. That’s why her dad asked if she could come here for a month. Your dad and I thought it was a fine idea.”

  “So do I,” I said, trying to sound more certain than I felt.

  “I know it’s a little daunting,” said Sharon quietly. “But all she really needs is for us to welcome her and let her know we’re here for her. There’s not much else anyone can do right now. She has a lot of healing to do.”

  I looked at Sharon. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. I guessed she must be nervous too.

  “What kind of things do you think Sunny will want to do?” I asked. “I mean, she’s never been East before.”

  “Well, let’s see,” Sharon answered. “She’d probably like to see the ocean, just so she can compare the Atlantic to the Pacific. And we can take her on hikes, since the woods here are really different.” She paused. “But I bet she’ll mostly just want to do whatever you and Dawn are doing. You know, swim at the pool, go to movies, hang out at the mall.”

  I visualized the three of us doing those things. “Sure,” I said. “That’ll be fun.” Again, I was trying to sound certain. Would Sunny be bored? I had the feeling California was a lot more exciting than Connecticut. We don’t have huge waves for surfing or long boardwalks for in-line skating. There aren’t many movie stars here. Even our food is boring. I remember visiting Dawn in California and eating all this exotic Mexican and Asian food, or stopping at a smoothie stand for a mango-papaya shake. Here it’s pretty much pizza, burgers, fries, pizza, burgers, and fries.

  I sighed.

  “Don’t worry so much, Mary Anne.” Sharon shook her head, smiling. “It’s going to be fun. Wait until Dawn and Jeff see the house. Don’t you think they’ll love it?”

  We chatted for a while about the house. Sharon had plans for expanding the herb garden, and she wanted my opinion. Before I knew it, we were pulling into a spot in the parking garage at the airport.

  We found our way to the right gate and waited for Flight 326 to land. “There it is!” I said, pointing to a plane that was taxiing toward the long, moveable tunnel attached to Gate 7. “They’re here!”

  It took a lo
ng time for the plane to pull up to the gate. Then it sat there for a while. Finally, passengers began to trickle through the tunnel.

  We watched from behind a glass wall. Only passengers were allowed past the doors that opened into the gate. So when I saw Dawn and called her name, she couldn’t hear me. “Dawn!” I yelled, waving. “Jeff! Sunny!” Normally, I’d be embarrassed about making such a scene. But I was so excited about seeing Dawn that I just didn’t care. Suddenly, all my doubts and fears disappeared. Dawn looked like the same old Dawn, with her long, pale blonde hair and blue eyes. It was going to be great to have her here for a whole month.

  Finally, she looked right at me. She gave me a huge smile and waved back. Then she touched Jeff on the shoulder and pointed to where we were standing. Sunny had already spotted us. She was smiling too — but only with her mouth, if you know what I mean. Her eyes looked sad. Sunny’s pretty, with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles. She looked the same but different, if that makes sense.

  When they came through the doors, Sharon and I were standing right there. Dawn and I flew into each other’s arms, while Jeff let Sharon hug him (he’s ten and not big on sentimental stuff). Then I turned to Sunny. “Welcome to Connecticut,” I said. I gave her a hug too. She hugged me back.

  “Thanks, Mary Anne,” she said. “It’s good to be here.”

  “And we’re very happy to have you,” Sharon said. Now it was her turn to hug Dawn and Sunny. I saw her give Sunny a long look as she held her by the shoulders. A look that said, I’m so sorry. Sunny looked back at Sharon. How did she manage not to cry? But Sunny’s gaze was steady.

  “I am totally psyched to be here!” she said as we headed for the baggage claim. “I want to see everything and do everything. I’ve never been anywhere before.” See what I meant about Sunny’s energy? She’s always up for anything.

  “Why would you need to go anywhere?” asked Jeff. “California’s the best.” He glanced at Sharon. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “That’s okay,” Sharon answered, shaking her head. “I know I raised a California boy. But you have to admit there are things you like about Connecticut, Jeff.”

  “Sure,” he answered. “Especially in summer, when my friends are on vacation and we can fool around all day.” He turned to me. “How are Nicky and the triplets?”

  “They’re fine,” I said. Jeff is good friends with the four Pike boys, brothers of an honorary BSC member — and good friend — named Mallory. “They can’t wait to see you.”

  “We’re going to build a rocket this summer,” he announced, “and figure out a way to launch it. We’ve been working on the plans by e-mail.”

  “Great,” said Sharon. “Just — ”

  “Be careful,” Jeff said, in a singsong voice. “I know, I know. That’s what Carol says too.”

  I glanced at Sharon. Carol is Dawn and Jeff’s stepmother. She and their dad just had a new baby daughter, Grace. I know Dawn wasn’t crazy about Carol at first, but I think they’ve become a lot closer. Carol is close to Sunny too. She was really there for Sunny during the time that Mrs. Winslow was dying, according to Dawn.

  Sharon didn’t seem to mind. “Well, Carol’s absolutely right,” she told Jeff. “Now, let’s find your bags.” We watched as suitcases began to tumble down a chute and ride around on a conveyor belt.

  “There’s mine!” said Sunny, reaching for an over-sized black duffel.

  “And mine,” Dawn said, grabbing the backpack next to it.

  Jeff’s suitcase — an old brown one of his dad’s that Jeff won’t part with — tumbled down next.

  “All set, then,” said Sharon, leading us toward the door. “Ready to go home?”

  Dawn and I exchanged a glance. I wondered if she felt the same way I did about “home.” After all, she’d spent at least as much time in the house that had burned down as I had. It might be just as hard for her to get used to the idea of living in the barn.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Dawn, shouldering her pack. “Let’s go.”

  “Wow.”

  That’s all she said. Dawn stood by the car, her backpack near her feet where she’d dropped it. She was staring at the barn.

  We’d pulled up just moments ago, and Dawn and Jeff had climbed eagerly out of the car. Now both of them seemed frozen where they stood. Sunny didn’t seem to notice. She bounded up the walk, dragging her duffel bag behind her. “Cool house,” I heard her say to Sharon. “I love all the windows. They must let in a lot of sun.”

  “Dawn?” I asked. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m still not used to the idea that we’re living in the barn.”

  “It is a little strange,” I admitted. “I mean, think of all the things we used to do in the barn: hold BSC parties, run our summer day camp, swing from the hayloft — ”

  “Not to mention ghostbusting in the secret passage,” Dawn put in.

  “How could I forget?”

  We smiled at each other. Dawn had always been thrilled about having a ghost of our own. I, on the other hand, was a little less delighted. Still, I had to admit it had been cool to know that the secret passage between the house and barn had once been used to hide slaves escaping via the Underground Railroad.

  “Remember when — ” Dawn began.

  “Nicky was hiding in the passage and we thought he was a ghost?” I finished her thought. That was Nicky Pike, Jeff’s friend. He’d gone through a phase of needing a place to hide out, and he’d chosen the secret passage. The noises he made scared us half to death before we figured out the truth.

  She grinned. “How did you know that’s what I was going to say?”

  I shrugged. “I just knew.” Dawn and I shared some pretty important history. And I could tell it was hard for her to see that a huge piece of that history — our house — had vanished. In its place, another piece of history, the barn, had changed completely. I put a hand on her shoulder. “The new place is great,” I said quietly. “I think you’ll like it, once you get used to it.”

  “I won’t!” Jeff spoke up. “I hate it. I hate that our stupid house had to burn down in a stupid fire.”

  He was kicking at the grass as he spoke. We were standing in the area where the grass was new, where the old house had stood.

  “Jeff!” said Dawn. “Come on. Give it a chance.”

  Jeff glowered at her, then turned to me, putting his hands on his hips. “What about the horse stalls? I bet they’re gone. And the old feeding trough. All that stuff was so cool.”

  I agreed with him. “I know,” I said. “That’s why we saved a lot of it. The trough is out back, filled with flowers. It looks really nice. And we saved the brass nameplates from the horse stalls. Sharon thought you might want to put one up on the door of your room.”

  I saw that Jeff was interested in that idea, but he didn’t crack a smile. “Did you save the one that said ‘Captain’?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Well, I might want it,” he said carelessly. “But it won’t make me feel any better about living in a stupid barn. I bet the whole place smells like hay and old spiderwebs.”

  Do old spiderwebs have a smell? I wasn’t about to argue the point with Jeff. I knew what he meant. “Actually, it smells like fresh paint and — ”

  He interrupted. “What color did they paint my room?”

  “We left that for you to decide,” I answered, trying to ignore his challenging tone. “It’s white right now, but you can choose any color you want.”

  “What if I want it to be” — Jeff paused, thinking “— black or orange or something?”

  “It’s your choice,” I told him. “You’re the one who will have to live with it.” Sharon and I had discussed this very issue, knowing that a ten-year-old boy might pick the most disgusting color he could think of. We’d decided to let him do whatever he wanted. “Paint it orange and black if you want. Celebrate Halloween all year round.”

  Jeff still wouldn’t smile. I gave up. “Let’s go
in,” I said. “I can’t wait to show you guys around.”

  Sunny had already disappeared inside with Sharon. I led Jeff and Dawn toward the big sliding doors that opened into the kitchen, thinking it would make an impression on them. “Cool, huh?” I asked as I shoved the doors along their tracks to expose the kitchen, with its fancy new appliances and butcher-block counters.

  Dawn nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Not bad,” she said.

  “Dumb,” Jeff mumbled. “Who ever heard of a kitchen with one whole wall missing?”

  I let out a sigh. Just then, Sharon, my dad, and Sunny came into the kitchen. “This place is awesome!” Sunny pronounced. “Dawn, wait until you see your room. It’s adorable.”

  Sharon smiled at Sunny. I did too. It was hard not to, when she was so enthusiastic. I could even feel Dawn softening. “Is that a new blender?” she asked, looking at the one on the counter. “It looks like it’ll be good for making smoothies.”

  “It is,” Sharon answered. “And I’ve stocked up on fruit and yogurt and soy milk. We can whip up a batch whenever you want.”

  “Yahoo!” Sunny cried. “I adore smoothies.”

  “I only like mango ones,” Jeff said. “And they don’t have fresh mangoes in Connecticut.”

  I saw Sharon and my dad exchange a glance. “Hey, pal,” my dad said, “want to see your room?”

  “I guess,” Jeff answered grudgingly. He followed my dad out of the kitchen, dragging his feet as if he needed to be towed along.

  Sharon looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  “He’ll come around,” I said. “He’s just — ”

  “Surprised,” Dawn finished. “So am I. I mean, I knew the plan. I knew you guys were going to renovate the barn. But even though we talked about it, I was never able to picture it. It’s just so — so different.”

  “I love it,” Sunny announced. “But I guess that’s easy for me to say. I never even saw the house.”

  “The house was great,” Dawn said softly.