Skylark and Wallcreeper

by Anne O'Brien Carelli

  “You got everything covered all right, but you’re living in an armory with a bunch of strangers and old people.” Maria puts her hands on her hips and tries to look tough, but I don’t think she really means it. She knows that she can rely on me more than some of the adult volunteers. A lot of the Brooklyn volunteers don’t stay very long and just get in the way.

  “Johnny texted me that a lot of kids have water damage or no power and had to find someplace else to live for a while.” I show her some of the texts from Johnny:

  Samuel’s family still in a shelter. Water’s in basement and now there’s mold.

  No power or heat at Carrie’s apt. Staying with cousins up north. Not happy.

  “Or he says they’re helping out relatives,” I add.

  “Like you.”

  “Like me.” I start gathering up magazines that have been passed out to the residents. I don’t know why anyone would think they would want to read Glamour or Golf, but piles of them keep coming in. I read People magazine out loud to Granny and her friends. They’re fascinated, even though they have no idea who I’m talking about. They especially like the Worst Dressed section, so I have to go to that first.

  I like looking at the stories in the magazines that describe the hurricane. I missed a lot, even though I was right in the middle of it. I realize I’ve developed a whole new routine in this new home.

  “Well, look who’s here!” Maria jerks her head toward the Armory entrance, and there’s my mom, swooping across the gym.

  Chapter 10

  The Tour

  My mom has raised her arms so she looks like she’s flying. She’s carrying two Macy’s shopping bags high in the air.

  My mom always seems to add sparks to a room. Her shiny brown hair, trimmed perfectly just below her ears, swings back and forth as she weaves around the cots and tables. She spots us and strides right toward us. I wonder what’s in the bags. I hope it’s my clothes. I’ve picked out a couple of lame T-shirts from the clothing pile, but nothing else looked appealing. If I’d known she was coming, I would have told her exactly what to bring.

  If she went shopping, I’m in trouble. She tends to choose things for me that match the color of my eyes. Since my eyes are hazel, I have a lot of brown and green sweaters tossed on the floor of my closet.

  She pulls me in and squeezes, smacking my back with the Macy’s bags. “I brought you a change of clothes. I hope to God you’ve been washing out your underwear.” She’s wide and soft, and it feels like I’m deep in a sleeping bag on a chilly day. I didn’t realize how much I missed my mom’s wraparound hugs.

  She steps back, drops the shopping bags, and strokes the top of my head like a puppy. “Granny’s doing good,” I say, pointing to our corner of cots.

  I peek into the shopping bags, surprised at how much she managed to squeeze into just two bags. “This is great, Mom!” It occurs to me that the amount of clothing might be a sign that she’s decided I can stay at the Armory a little longer. I hope so—I need the time to track down Granny’s pen. “Would you like a tour?” I wave my arm around with a flourish, as if she’s a guest in a museum. She doesn’t answer, but makes a beeline for Granny.

  My mom is not a small woman, and it’s hard to believe that tiny Granny is her mother. Granny grips the side of the cot, preparing for one of her daughter’s enthusiastic embraces. My mom plunks herself down next to Granny, tipping the cot so that Granny looks like she’s trying to stay seated in a rowboat.

  Maria runs over to steady the ship. I’m right behind her, but my mom has already pulled Granny close to her and says, “Lily says you’re fine, Mother. Is that true?”

  I start unloading cases of bottled water from a nearby shopping cart, heaving them onto a table.

  “Of course it’s true!” Granny clasps her hands and drops them in her lap.

  “Thank you, Granny,” I mutter, glad that this is a time when Granny’s focusing.

  “Lily’s doing a wonderful job looking after her,” Maria adds. “I don’t think we could survive in this place without Lily.”

  This is not necessarily the best strategy to take with my mom. Last night on the phone she started fretting about how long I’d been at the Armory. “You don’t need to be so responsible, Lily. You need to be a kid.”

  “But Granny wants me here,” I’d said. I thought that would help convince her to let me stay, but she obviously needed to check everything out for herself, now that she could get here. She surprised me with this visit. She scans the gym, corner to corner.

  “Nicole says we’ll be out of here any day now. Then I can come home.” I scoop up half a dozen water bottles and hand them to Maria so she can deliver them to the nurses. “Did you bring me some dry socks?”

  This gets her going. She slides over the Macy’s bags and pulls out clothes that had been scattered all over my bedroom. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed everything I could. It’s a nightmare shopping in Manhattan right now, so I couldn’t get you anything new.” She digs into the bottom of one of the shopping bags and pulls out a clean towel and packages of underwear and socks. “They had these at CVS and I grabbed them.” Drugstore underwear and ugly white socks look perfect right now.

  I take off my jean jacket and hoodie that I’ve been wearing for days. I dig through one of the shopping bags and pull a clean but well-worn hoodie out of one of the bags. It feels so familiar and comfortable—like home. “Thanks, Mom.”

  My mom looks pleased that she got it right. “Let me talk to your granny and then you can show me around.” I sit across from them on my cot.

  “Can you stay?” Granny leans against my mom. “I’m sure Lily can get you a cot and a blanket.”

  My mom wraps her arm around Granny’s narrow shoulders. “Do you need me to stay?”

  “If you make Lily go back home, who will sleep next to me and tell silly jokes? Who’ll grab me a slice of free pizza before it’s all gone?”

  Granny’s hands are fluttering, and I start to get worried. That’s one of the first signs that she’s getting upset.

  “You eat pizza?” My mom grabs Granny’s hands. “Don’t you get heartburn?”

  She seems to be missing the point, so I jump in. “It’s okay, Granny. I’m not going anywhere. Right, Mom?”

  Granny looks first at my mom, then at me. “I would love it if you’d both stay.” She gives me a sly look and I realize she’s actually quite calm. “Of course, I could always come home with you.”

  My poor mom looks stricken. We’ve had this conversation with Granny so many times, but it’s never easy.

  “Granny,” I step in again. “You want to go out in that rain? It’s still such a mess out there!” I point to the television where the same weatherman has been waving his arms around a map for days.

  A nurse walks by and asks Granny if she’d like a cup of yogurt. Granny curls her lip and asks if there’s any chocolate pudding left. “Hang on, Miss Collette, I’ll get you some. Sit tight.”

  “Lily, why don’t you give me a tour while your granny has a snack.” My mother heaves herself off the cot and kisses her mother on the forehead. “We’ll be right back.”

  We spend the next hour wandering around the gym, and I introduce her to some of the volunteers. My mom examines every square inch of the Armory, including each stall of the restrooms. She tries every exit door, even though they’ve been inspected by the fire chief, police, and lots of other important people carrying clipboards.

  She greets every resident as she tests the cots, studies each can of food, and goes through Granny’s medical file with Nicole. “She’s searching this place like a bloodhound,” Maria says as my mother shakes out a stack of sheets, checking for bedbugs.

  “This place smells like sweat, but it’s clean,” my mom finally announces, putting her arm around my shoulders. Her closeness is comforting, but I’m still not sure what she’s decided.

  “Granny needs to take a nap, Mom. She likes me to sit with her.”

  She
gestures toward the glowing television. “I saw Rockaway Manor on the news last night.”

  “I know. Everyone here cheered because it’s still standing. Do you think Granny will be able to go back?”

  “They told us they’d cleared out the first floor and they’re doing repairs.” Her voice seems to catch for a second and she briefly rubs my back. “But I’m only giving this a few more days, and then we need to do something else about your granny.”

  “Can’t she just come live with us?”

  I already know the answer to this question. We’ve discussed it many times before. Mom works, I go to school, and Granny can’t ever be alone.

  “Honey, she needs twenty-four-hour care. I know you love her and I’m so proud of how you’ve stayed by her side, but pretty soon we’re going to have to get her settled somewhere else.” She points to the garbage bag under Granny’s bed and sighs. “She doesn’t even have a place to put whatever she has left.”

  “She has her wedding shoes.”

  My mom gives a little smile. “And that ratty old pink beret. I’ve tried to toss that a million times, but she gets very upset.”

  “Mom, she showed me her pen.” I want to see if my mom can explain the history of my granny’s special pen.

  “What pen?” My mom takes a packet of tissues out of her pocket and wipes off a nearby table.

  “The blue one with the letter F on it. Granny says it’s from France.”

  “Your granny never talks about France. I’ve tried over the years to find out about her childhood, but it was during the war and it must’ve been pretty tough.” She inspects the tissue to check for dirt and tosses it in the garbage. “But aside from slipping into French every once in a while, you’d never know she grew up there. She doesn’t even have an accent.”

  We both watch Granny as she sits on the edge of her cot and chats with Mrs. Sidobeth. She has a little color in her cheeks and looks comfortable. “Maybe she’ll talk to you about France,” my mom continues. “I’ve always wondered, but whenever I’ve asked, she’s changed the subject. I finally left it alone.”

  We’re silent for a moment. I want to tell her so much, but it’s not the time. I have to first finish my mission to find the pen.

  As Mrs. Sidobeth wanders off, my mom goes to the table near our cots, grabs two packets of Oreos, and pulls up a lawn chair next to Granny. I watch as they talk quietly while munching on the cookies. Granny inspects each Oreo, opens the tops carefully, and licks every bit of frosting. My mom pops them into her mouth and chomps away, gesturing with the next cookie in her hand as she speaks. They finish all the cookies and brush the crumbs from their hands.

  She helps Granny settle down on the cot and points to the shopping bags. “In one of those bags are clean pillowcases.” Together we arrange fresh pillows for Granny. My mom sits back down in the chair, touches Granny’s wispy hair, and tucks the blanket around her shoulders. Granny reaches out, and they hold hands.

  Sometimes I forget that my granny belongs to my mom, too.

  Granny closes her eyes, but I suspect she’ll be awake for a while.

  My mom stands up, turns toward me, and puts her hands on her wide hips. “What am I going to do with you, sweetie?”

  She always says that with affection—and a touch of worry.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Really.” Maybe one more time will finally reassure her.

  She motions for me to move away from Granny’s cot, and we lean against the cool wall of the Armory, facing each other. I’m not prepared for her tears. I’ve only seen my mom cry once. It was after we took my granny to Rockaway Manor.

  “Mom,” I say, “I’m taking good care of Granny. And Nicole and Maria are taking good care of me.”

  “Your granny has made it very clear that she wants you to stay here. She reminded me that you actually may be enjoying yourself.”

  I cheer silently, thankful that my granny always seems to understand me.

  My mom continues. “I’m a little more comfortable with the idea now. My office has reopened, and I have to go back to work.” She dabs her cheeks with a tissue. “But if you don’t text me, I’ll be back in a flash and haul you home.” She tries to look severe, but she’s a giant hugger and I think I see one coming.

  But she surprises me. She pulls up to her full height and lifts her chin like she’s a queen regarding one of her subjects. “You’re a wise young woman, my Lily. A little too independent sometimes—but you get that from my mother.” She glances over at Granny, a tiny bundle of blankets. “You may stay for now.”

  This time it’s my turn to go in for the hug.

  I walk her toward the entrance, past the residents. She points at the group of men in their hand-me-down football jerseys and gives me a questioning look. We both smile. “Now, Lily, the textbooks I found on your desk are in the bottom of one of those bags. Keep up with your schoolwork, okay?”

  For a fleeting moment, I want to pick up the Macy’s bags and follow her out the door. I wish she’d brought some food from Johnny’s restaurant, or maybe my favorite pillow.

  She gives me one last hug. “I love you, Mom,” I say as she releases me.

  “Me too, honey.” She seems to shiver a bit. “Listen to Nicole and wash your hands a lot.” Her forehead has a sheen that wasn’t there when she arrived. “And please don’t go out on the street alone. It’s Brooklyn, remember.”

  She pulls a miniature bottle of hand sanitizer out of her pants pocket and tucks it into the pouch of my hoodie. Then she pulls out three twenty-dollar bills and rolls them into a slim tube. “Here, take this money for emergencies.” She presses it in my hand. “Hide it in your shoe.”

  I can’t help but smile to myself. It seems as if I’ve been hiding a lot of things lately.

  She steps into the revolving door, gives me a little wave, and disappears into the rain.

  Chapter 11

  Rabbit

  Brume

  Nearly Spring 1944

  “Tonight’s delivery is going to be more dangerous than usual.” Hélène pulls gently on Collette’s thick black scarf and stands close, her sad brown eyes staring directly into Collette’s bright blue ones. “If you don’t get there quickly, you’ll be in a nest of Germans and French police. They’ll be arriving to dine with a wealthy French family in one of the fancy mansions on the Rue des Fleurs.”

  She goes on to explain that Collette is supposed to move past the front gates of the house on the Rue des Fleurs, sneak to the back, and peek through the kitchen window. Inside, Collette should be able to see a woman cooking for the German and French collaborators.

  That woman has to sign the notebook.

  “She’ll have on a flowered scarf to hold back her long black hair. Get her attention through the window, and she’ll come outside and shake the crumbs out of a tablecloth.”

  Collette tucks her pants into her boots and starts to calculate her route to the other side of the village. She’ll have to hurry. This time the package has to be delivered to a home where the enemy will soon be gathering.

  When she straightens up, Hélène is still staring at her. “Tell the woman to initial here. Hand her the notebook and pen so she can mark her X, but be sure she knows the message.”

  “Initial here,” Collette repeats impatiently. “I’ve got it.”

  Initial here means not tonight—but wait, it will be soon. The woman in the flowered scarf will know that she has to be more alert than ever. The Germans suspect that the Resistance fighters have something planned. They do—soon Noah’s Ark will strike, but not tonight.

  Hélène signals Collette to step into the shed. “He’s back,” she says with reverence. “He wants to speak to you.”

  Collette carefully steps into the dark shed. It’s hard to see anyone, but she knows that Panther is there. Again, he stays close to the floor, but this time she quickly sits down next to him. She can smell tobacco and sweat. His breath is foul, but she doesn’t turn away.

  His growl is so low she can ha
rdly hear him. She leans closer. “Tonight, after you deliver the package for Hélène, you’re going to take a count at the bridge on the Route de Ruisseau, on the edge of town. In a few days, we’re destroying that bridge because we need to keep the Germans from moving easily in that part of the village.”

  Collette knows the short wooden bridge but doesn’t know what he means by taking a count.

  “Your job is to count the number of Germans at the post,” he continues. “Are there four? Five? Do they stay together?”

  Now she understands. The soldiers could be anywhere. She needs to count them all so that Noah’s Ark can be well prepared. “Both sides of the bridge?”

  “It’s not a long bridge. It’s not a wide stream.”

  “Alone?” Collette asks, quickly regretting the question. She doesn’t want to show Panther that she’s afraid, but this night is turning out to be full of danger and she wonders if anyone will be protecting her. For the first time, she wants to say, “But I’m only twelve!”

  “Yes, you go alone! Tonight. After you deliver the package to the house on the Rue des Fleurs, go and count soldiers. Then we’ll know for sure.” The door creaks briefly as he steps into the alley and disappears.

  Hélène steps forward and pulls Collette toward the door. She cracks it open a bit so that they can see each other in the gray dusk. “You have a busy night ahead of you, my dear. Your missions are even riskier than scaling the mountain. You’ll be close to the fire.” She grabs Collette’s cap and pulls it down hard. “Don’t get burned.”

  A light snow is falling, even though signs of spring are beginning to peek through the frozen ground. It’s easier for Collette to get quickly to the right street because the German soldiers are huddled inside the cafés and houses they’ve stolen from their owners. They stay close to warm fireplaces and hardly ever venture out. It’s rare for snow to fall in Brume, and they’re tired of this brutal winter. Everyone is.

  Collette sticks close to the sides of buildings. She occasionally backtracks so that her footprints in the thin layer of snow will confuse anyone who might be following her. She stealthily approaches the magnificent house on the Rue des Fleurs, a street that’s lined with tall, slender cypress trees, elegant mansions, and imposing stone churches. Her heart races as she gets closer, and she anxiously seeks places to hide. This street feels too open. She needs to be smart.