Chapter
60
The flashing lights of police cars and fire trucks bounced off the brick exterior of the hospital and the jagged glass of broken windows across the street. People milled around, taking pictures on their phones.
The worst damage had been done to the abandoned car dealership. Its building was a pile of rubble, and the street had been torn up for several blocks. Trees lay across it like an enormous game of pick-up-sticks. A fire hydrant was still spewing a jet of water into the air.
The news said they were lucky—the freak storm hadn’t hit in a very populated area. Red didn’t feel lucky. She felt sick.
But things could have been a lot worse.
Ms. Anders had brought her up to Celine’s hospital room shortly after the storm fell silent and told her to stay put. Red watched the activity from the window while Celine slept. She could see two police officers talking with Ms. Anders by the open back end of an ambulance, taking notes and shaking their heads, as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. If Ms. Anders was telling them the truth—the whole, real, gigantic truth—then Red couldn’t blame them for disbelieving.
“There’s my girl.”
Red startled and turned. Celine was propped up in her bed, blinking sleep from her eyes. She held up a hand and Red walked to her and took it.
“Pretty crazy out there, isn’t it?” Celine said.
A lump in Red’s throat made it difficult to swallow. She nodded. Lights from the emergency vehicles lit the room in rotations of red, blue, white.
“Did I ever tell you,” Celine said, squeezing Red’s hand, “about the night the stars fell?”
“No.” Red lowered herself onto the bed.
Celine’s hair caught the colors of the flashing lights in its web, illuminating her. Her eyes were as bright as moonlight. Even the pale curve of her cheek flushed pink.
Suddenly, Red felt certain that no matter what came—no matter how bad the surgery was, no matter how much cancer they scooped out and washed away with chemo—that Celine would be okay.
She had to be.
“It was the night my son died.” Celine paused, and silence hung there between them, as full as the silence after a symphony.
After a while, Celine continued. “I spent my whole life looking up at the stars. They were, I thought, my friends. Their song lived inside of everything I knew. But the night my son … that night, everything changed for me. I was so angry. I felt abandoned. By God, by my own faith, by the stars.” She took a deep breath. “I left the hospital and drove. I didn’t know where I was going. Just drove and drove until I ran out of city light. I was probably halfway to Kansas when I finally pulled over. It was summer. The sky was black as ink. And the stars. They were so big.
“I got out of my car and started walking. I even climbed over a barbed-wire fence without realizing it. Tore a hole in my jeans. I went out into this field. Rage and grief were bottled up inside of me, like every drop of blood was angry. I wanted to explode.”
Celine’s eyes had gone glassy with the memory. Red didn’t move.
“And so I did. I screamed and cried and yelled. I looked up at the stars and sent all my rage and pain at them like a fire hose. I blasted them.” She sniffed and shook her head, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. Red stared at that smile, wondering how it could possibly exist.
“You remember when you first arrived,” Celine said, “that day Jackson power-washed the side of the barn? The jet of water from the compressor blasted away all the muck and peeled off the stains?”
Red nodded.
“Well, that’s kind of what I did to the stars that night. The stream of my grief just pummeled them right out of the sky. I watched them snap off the black like leaves off a tree, and they tumbled down all around me. They fell like sparkling rain into the field, fading into darkness where they landed.”
“What did you do?”
“I stopped. I had to. I saw those stars falling, one by one, and I knew I’d black out the sky with my rage. I could have taken down the whole universe, Red, I assure you. I was that mad.
“But as I stood in that glittering star-storm, I suddenly realized that I would never hear the stars sing again if I let my anger destroy them. I was hurting so deeply. But my love for the stars, for their music, saved me.”
Red thought of the gnarled street just outside the window. “You weren’t sad anymore?”
Celine shook her head. “Oh, no. I was sad. My rage was spent, but my grief wasn’t. Grief isn’t like anger. Anger can burn out. It can be released. But grief is something that becomes a part of you. And you either grow comfortable with it and learn how to live your life in a new way, or you get stuck in it, and it destroys you.”
“Did the stars come back?” Red asked.
Celine sighed. “No. They were gone. Anger tends to leave a scar. Even in the sky.”
Red’s anger had left a scar down Colfax Avenue. And in her own heart as well.
“Thank you,” Red said a moment later.
“What for?”
“You sent Pleiades to sing for me.”
Celine smiled. “The music was already inside you, Red. All I did was teach you to listen.” She brushed her fingers across Red’s cheek. “I’m proud of you.”
“Why?” Red asked, voice cracking.
“You did something amazing today.”
Red wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “The tornado?”
“No.” Celine sat up more and looked toward the window. “Although that was amazing. I mean, calling Ms. Anders. Telling her where you were.”
Red looked up at her, surprised. “How—?”
“Ms. Anders called us the second she got off the phone with you. We were frantic when we found out you didn’t go to school, and had already been in contact with her.”
“I’m sorry,” Red said, shame flooding her. “I shouldn’t have run off like that.”
Celine shook her head. “No. You shouldn’t have. But I understand why you did, I think.”
“You do?”
“You love your mom,” she said. “And sometimes love makes us break rules, doesn’t it?”
Tears blurred her vision, and Red blinked, letting them slip down her cheeks. Celine pulled her onto the bed next to her, wrapping her arms around Red’s shoulders.
When she finally found her voice again, Red asked the question that scared her most. “Who’s gonna take care of me?”
A surprised laugh bubbled from Celine’s chest and she lifted Red’s chin to look into her eyes. “Red! Oh, my girl! We’re going to take care of you! You hear me? We aren’t going anywhere. Not without you.”
Chapter
61
When Red walked with Celine and Jackson into court the next day, she was surprised to see that her mother was there. Ms. Anders and Wanda each stood with a different lawyer near the front of the small room.
Ms. Anders came over to the three of them and spoke in a hushed voice. “I’m glad you all could make it. How are you feeling?” she asked Celine.
Celine nodded. “Okay. I told them I wouldn’t miss today.” She squeezed Red’s hand.
The caseworker explained what would happen once the judge came in. Red mostly didn’t hear her. Her eyes kept landing on Wanda, who stood with her back to Red and her head down.
“I gave your letter to the judge already, Red,” Ms. Anders said.
The night before, while still at the hospital, Red had written to tell the judge what she wanted. She said how much she loved her mom, how she wanted her mom to get better and be okay. She said that being in foster care was really hard, and that what she wanted most in the world was to be part of a family. A real family.
And then she said that she wanted to live with Celine and Jackson.
I used to think it was impossible to love strangers as much as I love my mom, she wrote. But now I know that, with love, nothing is impossible.
Ms. Anders told them to sit in the chairs behind her. Th
ey did, standing again when the judge came in a few minutes later. As the judge spoke—addressing the lawyers, mostly—Red kept her eyes on her hands. Her heart thundered against her ribs, even though she knew how the proceeding would turn out. Ms. Anders had already told her: Wanda had failed to meet the judge’s expectations, so there was very little chance the judge would decide Red should live with her again. Plus, the judge had Red’s letter, and Ms. Anders promised that what Red wanted would be taken into consideration.
Still, Red was nervous.
The judge finished talking and shuffled papers.
“Your Honor,” the lawyer next to Wanda said. “Before you make your decision, my client would like to make a statement.”
When the judge gave her permission, Wanda stood. Red stared at the back of her mother’s head. Her hair was in a braid that slid from side to side a little as she moved.
“Your Honor.” Wanda stopped, cleared her throat. “I’m pretty sure we all know what you’re going to say about me today. And it’s true. I haven’t done very well lately.”
She cleared her throat again. “The truth is, Your Honor, I haven’t done well in a long time. I had my daughter when I was nineteen. I was already on the road to addiction, even then.”
Red’s hands began to shake and she clasped them in her lap.
“My mom took care of Red for a lot of years. I was just too sick and too young.” She paused, looked down. “And too selfish.”
Celine’s hand covered both of Red’s.
“She gave me a lot of chances, my mom. Probably too many. But I kept failing her. And failing my daughter.”
Wanda took a deep breath.
“I love my daughter.” Suddenly she turned and looked right into Red’s eyes. “I love her infinity plus one.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then she turned back to the judge. “But I haven’t loved her well. I want to be a good mom to her. I really do.” Her voice broke, and she looked down, clearing her throat a third time.
Celine sucked in a small breath, and Red glanced at her. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. Her other hand clutched Jackson’s, and he, too, was staring at Wanda with an intense look on his face. Red couldn’t tell if he was scared or angry. Or both.
“I haven’t done very much right by her, and I know that. But I want to do right by her now,” Wanda said. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, then said, “I want to give up my parental rights. I want Red to be adopted by a family who can love her better than I can.”
Wanda turned and looked at the three of them. “And I think that family is sitting with her right now.”
Her mother held her eye for the briefest moment, and the air between them warmed and shimmered. It brushed Red’s cheek in a whisper like, I’m sorry, like, I love you, like, Infinity plus one.
Red dipped her chin in a nod. Me too.
Celine made a noise next to her, and the shimmer of air vanished. Wanda faced the judge, and Red turned to Celine. Her foster mother was crying silent streams of tears, like she had been the night she told Red about Roan. But this time, she was smiling, too.
Happy and sad, Red thought. Two things at once.
She understood what it meant for Wanda to give up her rights, just like she understood what it meant when she told the judge she wanted to live with Celine and Jackson.
It meant she and her mom were family. But also that they were not.
It seemed impossible, but it had to be done. Her mother loved her, but she couldn’t take care of her. The knowledge of this was a small, sharp pain in Red’s chest. And some pain, she knew, never went away.
Red didn’t hear a word that was said after her mother’s statement. She could only stare at her mother’s braid as she leaned in to Celine, Celine’s arm tight around her shoulders.
They all stood when the judge left. Celine and Jackson hugged her and then each other. Celine was still crying, but Red felt too hollow to cry. She wasn’t sad exactly, but she also wasn’t happy. It would come, she knew. Both the sadness and the happiness. Grief and joy. Like two separate tornadoes under the wings of her heart.
She needed them both to fly.
Ms. Anders hugged her.
“You’re a brave girl, Ruby Byrd,” she said, squeezing her extra hard.
With a glance at Celine, Red broke away from the Grooves and Ms. Anders, winding around the chairs on her way to Wanda. Her mother chewed her lower lip, her gaze flitting nervously about as Red approached. They stood staring at each other’s feet in silence.
“I have something for you,” Wanda said after a moment. She knelt and riffled through her purse, pulling out the green notebook. One of the corners was crumpled, and its pages were wobbly with water stains. She held it out, her expression apologetic.
“I read it.” She gave Red a small smile. “You really did prove them all.”
Red hesitated, then took it. She went to the table where Wanda and her lawyer had been sitting and picked up a pen. Opening the notebook, she wrote one last entry, then turned to Wanda again.
“You keep it,” she said, handing it back.
Wanda took it, looking both bewildered and disappointed. Red wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist.
“That way you won’t forget,” she said.
As Red followed Celine and Jackson out of the courtroom, she looked over her shoulder. Wanda stood where Red had left her, the notebook open in her hands.
You say
Being a mom is impossible.
But you love me infinity plus one. And that’s what being a mom is all about.
Chapter
62
Two weeks later, on a perfectly still evening that smelled like snow and starlight, the Kapules brought over dinner, and they all celebrated Red’s twelfth birthday in the barn. Marvin made a pineapple stir-fry, and Mrs. Kapule brought an enormous chocolate cake with raspberry-cream frosting. Marvin’s grandparents hugged Red and kissed her cheeks, wishing her a happy birthday.
The barn was decorated with strings of Christmas lights that filled it with a warm glow. Celine had made party hats for all the animals, even tiny ones for the chickens. The goats ate theirs, but Fezzik kept nodding, like he was showing his off.
Everyone sat on bales of hay, except Red. She sat leaning up against Tuck. Marvin plopped down next to her, surprising the tortoise. Tuck’s glittery party hat slipped down over the front of his face when he tried to pull his head into his shell, making everyone laugh.
After dinner, Jackson slipped into the back room of the barn and returned carrying a box with holes cut out of the lid. Inside, Red found two black-and-white kittens.
“Every petting zoo needs a couple of cats,” Jackson said.
“To keep the rats away.” Celine winked at her.
“And possums!” Jackson laughed.
Red cuddled the kittens under her chin. “They’re perfect.”
“They were Nicole’s idea,” Jackson said.
Nicole had called from Seattle the day after the custody hearing. She and Red talked for a long time. Before they hung up, Nicole apologized for her behavior on Christmas Eve. She told Red that she’d been really scared, but that didn’t excuse the awful things she’d said. Red forgave her. She knew what it was like to be scared, and how sometimes scared and angry felt like the same thing.
The kittens were passed around the circle. Gandalf and the other dogs sniffed them eagerly, jumping back when one of the cats swiped at their noses. Marvin’s grandparents gave Red a stack of books from her favorite bookstore in Denver, and Mrs. Kapule gave her a handmade coupon for hula lessons.
“I hear you are a dancer,” she said, eyes glittering. “And hula is the language of the heart.”
Red hugged her. “Thank you!”
Marvin gave her a small journal. The cover was adorned with stars that seemed to twinkle in the light. Inside, he’d written a quote:
It’s kind of fun to do the impossible. —Walt Disney
“Since you lost your othe
r notebook,” he said.
Red grinned at him. “Mahalo.”
“I’ve got one more gift for you, Red,” Celine said, handing her a rolled-up piece of paper tied with a green ribbon.
Red tugged the ribbon off and unrolled the page. It was a petition for adoption.
“When we started the process of becoming foster parents,” Celine explained, “we were licensed as foster to adopt.”
“From the very beginning, we told Ms. Anders we wanted to adopt you, if we could,” Jackson said.
Red held the paper on the flats of her palms, afraid to wrinkle it.
“I told you that we wanted whatever was best for you,” Celine said, reaching for Red. “So when you said you wanted to live with your mom, we respected that. We love you, and we’ve always wanted you to be ours. But more than that, we wanted you to be happy. We want that still.”
“We’re hoping,” Jackson said, his smile as wide as the sky, “that you’ll give us permission to adopt you now.”
“But what about your cancer?” Red couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. Celine’s new surgery date was in two weeks.
Celine’s face crumpled a little. “Oh, Red. I am going to fight the cancer, and I have the best doctors on my side. But cancer or no cancer, you have my heart. I chose you—I loved you—the moment I saw you, and nothing will ever change that.”
A little sob burst from Red’s lips. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around Celine’s neck. Celine hugged her back, and Jackson enfolded them both.
Red would never forget what losing Gamma had been like. It was a sadness that would stay with her forever. Watching Celine go through surgery and chemotherapy and everything else would be hard. Red knew that. But it would be impossible—for both of them—if they didn’t have each other.
Red sobbed, “I want you to adopt me! I really, really do.”
A minute later, Marvin stood and wrapped his arms around the three of them, too. Red laughed through her tears as Jackson included him in the embrace.
“Get in here, guys!” Marvin said over his shoulder. His parents and grandparents stood, wiping their eyes, and followed his orders.
All the Impossible Things Page 22