by Amy Hest
So now I’m in the presence of Eleanor Roosevelt. Crazy, right? And I’m wondering how you tell Eleanor Roosevelt she’s talking to a couple of kidnappers, and by the way, that baby on your lap, well, that happens to be stolen goods. Julie, meanwhile, is giving me her killer you better keep your mouth shut look. Which I completely ignore.
Okay, now picture this. We’re all sitting around, eating this great food that just kind of appears out of nowhere, and the baby is falling asleep in Mrs. Roosevelt’s lap and Mrs. Roosevelt says, real casual, SO HOW OLD IS NANCY? It’s a pretty easy question, right? No big deal. Only it kind of becomes a big deal and here’s why: Martha, Julie, and I answer at the same exact time. Unfortunately, we all say something different. TWO YEARS OLD (Martha). FIVE DAYS OLD (Julie). TWO MONTHS OLD (me). Mrs. Roosevelt doesn’t say a word. She just smiles at the baby and rubs her little wrist, the one with the bracelet.
All of a sudden I look at my watch. Ben’s watch. Ben. The city. The train to New York. The 9:15 to the city. I missed that one all right, a long time ago. Next train, 11:15. Leave now. Run. Ben is counting on me. WELL, I HAVE TO GO SOMEWHERE. I stand up and that’s when I see Tess. Ben’s Tess. Running across the sand, arms flailing. Tess, running full speed ahead.
I guess Mrs. Roosevelt is some kind of baby expert. She held the baby and fed the baby and burped the baby and sang. It was after the singing, that’s when I saw the girl from the ice-cream shop. The girl who got on the train that day, she was running toward us, maybe shouting, maybe crying, and coming in for a landing on the big beach blanket. Arms, hands, reaching for the baby. MY BABY, she cried! I’M SORRY! SO SORRY! I’M HERE, EMMIE, HERE! MY BABY! I never saw anyone cry so hard.
We got to ride in the big black car with Mrs. Roosevelt! Mr. Hicks, the driver, took us all the way back to the library! Julie was so sad. It’s because she wasn’t holding the baby anymore. Tess was holding the baby. I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU. Tess said that about two million times to the baby. YOU CAN CALL HER NANCY, I said.
No way. No way was I getting in the car with them. I had to run. Had to get there first. Me, I was the one who had to break the news. So I ran my fastest — probably broke some record — all the way to the library. A lot of people were waiting outside. More than a lot. The whole town, I think, maybe the world. There was a long red ribbon and my mom was on the top step, and my dad was there, next to Mom. I looked at my watch. Ben’s watch. Nearly eleven. Nearly time for the Grand Opening, which my parents kept saying was not only a small-town event, but a patriotic one as well. MOM! I called. MOM! She couldn’t hear, so I called louder. DAD! I called. HEY, DAD! I squeezed through the crowd, to the top of the steps.
My mom knew. I knew she knew the minute she saw me. My mom’s like that. She knows if you leave your homework for the last minute even though you’d never announce that kind of thing, and she knows if you don’t make your bed even if she’s downstairs and your bed is upstairs, and she knows if you hit a ball through someone’s living-room window by mistake. That morning, she took one look at me. And knew.
The big car rolled up to the library and stopped in front of the sign that said NO PARKING TODAY! BIG CELEBRATION TODAY! The back door opened. Martha got out, then Julie. Then Tess and the baby in her arms and Eleanor Roosevelt. MOM, I whispered. HEY, MOM, HEY, DAD. SOMEBODY WANTS TO MEET YOU.
Sometimes I think, what if I didn’t see the basket? BUT YOU DID, Pop said. He said it that night. After Martha went to sleep and George went to sleep, and we were sitting on the porch watching the night. Just me and Pop, and that’s when he said, LUCK, JULIE. SOMETIMES, WHEN WE LEAST EXPECT IT, IT JUST SHOWS UP. TODAY, FOR EXAMPLE, RIGHT HERE IN BELLE BEACH, A HEAP OF GOOD LUCK, WHEN YOU FOUND THE BABY.
What if we couldn’t find Julie’s cake? But we did! We found it inside the library and Mrs. Roosevelt ate a big fat piece of Julie’s cake! MMMMNNN, she said. MMMNNN. Pop took forty million pictures all day! Julie and the baby. Julie and Mrs. Roosevelt. Julie and Mrs. Ben-Eli and Tess and the baby. Bruno and Mr. Ben-Eli. Bruno and the baby. Bruno and Mrs. Ben-Eli and Mr. Ben-Eli and Tess and the baby. George and the baby. George and me and the baby. WE’RE SENDING THESE TO BEN, Pop said. A GREAT BIG POUCH FULL OF PICTURES, JUST WAIT TILL HE SEES WHAT’S WAITING FOR HIM!
What might have made sense, when we found her, was to take the baby into the library since my mother was inside, setting things up for the party. If there’s anyone who would know what to do with a baby in a basket, it’s my mom. I never even thought of it, though.
According to my parents, the Grand Opening was a huge success. Books. Library cards. A couple of medium-boring speeches and thank-yous to the Good Ladies, and believe it or not, there was even dancing in the library. Mrs. Roosevelt didn’t do any dancing, by the way, and neither did I. Kevin was dancing all over the place. With something like six different girls, but once I saw him dancing with his mother. Paul’s mother. Well, you never saw so many people in such a good mood. At least not since the war started. And all those good-mood people would go home later, and write to their soldiers overseas, and tell them about this day in August in the little seaside town of Belle Beach. WE HAVE TO SHARE THIS WITH OUR BOYS OVER THERE, OUR HEROES, AND LET THEM KNOW ALL THIS IS WAITING FOR YOU. WE’RE ALL JUST WAITING FOR YOU TO COME HOME. My father told me that.
Bruno thinks he’s this great detective or something, but he’s not. I knew he was following me! Of course I knew! I just ignored him, that’s all. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms. But he wouldn’t go away.
I had to save the baby. She was my responsibility. I’ve always been kind of mature for my age, and maybe I’m too serious. Sometimes I wish I had a silly side to me, but I’m just not made that way. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, ONLY SOMEONE WITH A SERIOUS SIDE WOULD HAVE KNOWN EXACTLY WHAT TO DO WITH THE BABY. Pop told me that. Silly wouldn’t get the job done.
It’s true I wanted to keep her. I wanted it more than anything. But I would never do that. Tess is her mother, not me. Beautiful Tess.
The baby has brown curly hair. My hair is straight. It is dark brown and my eyes are dark brown. I looked, but the baby has no freckles. I looked hard, but not even one. I have a bunch, but just on my nose. I hope she gets freckles and looks like me. Everyone is always saying, OH, THAT JULIE LOOKS JUST LIKE HER MOTHER. They never say it about me.
I saw Tess that morning. Or at least I thought I saw Tess that morning. It was really early, right when I got to the library. I saw her behind the green bench. Or maybe she was on the green bench, who can remember. Hey Tess! I thought you were in New York . . . Ben said to find you in New York . . . I would have said all that, but then everything was happening with the baby and I guess I forgot. Forgot about Tess. Until I was out there on the beach, and I turned around once, and thought I saw her again. Following me. Following the baby.
Okay, fine. I had to start talking to Bruno again. How could I not? It happened late that afternoon. After the library party. After Tess and the baby went home to the Ben-Elis’. Bruno found me on the beach, and just like that, we were talking again. I told him it was probably against the law, reading someone’s letter. IF I WERE A DIFFERENT KIND OF PERSON, I’D REPORT YOU, BRUNO. TO THE POLICE! Then he said, YOU KNOW ABOUT KIDNAPPING, RIGHT? YOU SHOULD KNOW IT’S A CRIMINAL ACT. NO TWO WAYS ABOUT IT. I told him I’m no criminal. I was doing a good deed. Taking her to Camp Mitchel, to the nurses there, and they would help me find her mother. CRIMINAL ACT, he said. NOT, I said. Then one of us — can’t remember which one — said maybe we shouldn’t talk about it anymore. And we didn’t.
Bruno pulled this wrinkled envelope out of his pocket. BABY INSTRUCTIONS, he said. THEY CAME IN THE BASKET WITH THE BABY, REMEMBER? WE’RE A LITTLE LATE, BUT WANT TO LOOK? Did I ever! So we sat on the beach and read the instructions.
Her name is Emmie Louise Ben-Eli. She is two months old. She is perfect. Please take her into the library. Now! As soon as you find her, take her inside. Ask for Mrs. Ben-Eli. Only Mrs. Ben-Eli. When she sees Emmie, she will know.
And reach for her granddaughter. She will know this is Ben’s baby, and mine. I can’t do this alone. Emmie needs her grandparents. Her family. And I need them, too. Please bring the baby inside. To Mrs. Ben-Eli. I’ll be waiting. Right here. On the green bench.
With thanks from Tess Ben-Eli
We sat there for a long time. And didn’t say a word.
Once Bruno threw a baseball. High! Over the ocean! CATCH, BEN! That’s what he said when he was throwing the ball. ARE YOU THROWING IT TO BEN? I said. Bruno got mad. YOU ARE WAY TOO NOSY, he said. COME ON, GEORGE, I said. LET’S GO HOME. I was mad at Bruno. But the next day I wasn’t mad anymore. Because Bruno is my friend.
Julie’s the one who said it first. UNCLE BRUNO. She said it all serious and Julie-like. YOU’RE AN ACTUAL UNCLE, BRUNO! And I am. Uncle Bruno! Not bad, right? I’m going to write Ben tonight. Second time in a week. Usually you’ll never catch me writing twice in a week. But I figure he’ll want to hear all about how we found the baby. We found Tess, too, and Tess found us, and now there are two extra people living in the house. And by the way, I’ll say, Mom and Dad keep picking up the baby, even when she’s sleeping. They walk around the house holding on to Emmie like they’ll never let go. I have to come up with a good joke, too. For Ben. And by the way, I’ll say, the summer people are getting ready to leave. Even the good ones . . . but hey, sometimes you get lucky and the good ones come back.
And before I sign off, I’ll tell him the main thing. Which is this.
Come on home, Ben, we’re waiting.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are either products of the author’s
imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2020 by Amy Hest
Chapter opener illustrations copyright
© 2020 by Jamey Christoph
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2020
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number pending
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