The Restoration of Celia Fairchild - Marie Bostwick Page 0,84

history project group. I knew he only wanted me because he planned to foist most of the work off on me. Still. It was a start. Maybe, if I did his homework, Andy would start liking me for real.

How could she put me through that again? The old Calpurnia wouldn’t have. But this new, post-accident Calpurnia was different, erratic and unpredictable. She got flustered easily, left pots to boil dry on the stove, cried over little things, like not being able to open a jar of pickles, even after I ran the lid under hot water and opened it myself. This Calpurnia got into fights with my father too, and he with her.

The police had clearly determined that the other driver was at fault, but none of that mattered to Sterling. Some people experience grief as anger, even rage, and need someone to blame. My father was one of them. Every evening, he would go into his office and drink behind closed doors. After I was in bed, the fights would begin.

Sterling always said that people who had to raise their voices to make a point usually didn’t have one, so at first, this new turn was shocking. I would climb out of bed in the dark, grab one of my stuffed animals from the bed, then clutch it close when I cracked open my bedroom door and leaned in, trying to hear what they were saying.

After a while, I realized I was better off not knowing. I learned to sleep on my side with one ear pressed against the mattress and my pillow covering the other to block out the sound of once-familiar voices made unrecognizable by rage. Had I been listening the night before, I would have known that Sterling told Calpurnia he’d had enough, that the two of us were moving out, and that he didn’t want me spending time with her. “After that, she just went crazy,” Sterling told me later. “But I never imagined she’d try to kidnap you.”

Things had been crazy for a long time. That’s why I couldn’t say what I meant, because I couldn’t predict how she’d react anymore.

“You shouldn’t tell lies to the school,” I said. “Especially not about emergencies. You’ll get me in trouble.”

“Well. It wasn’t really a lie,” Calpurnia explained. “After all we’ve been through these last months, I believe a little getaway is absolutely necessary to our mental and physical well-being. It’s a Fun Emergency. But principals don’t usually understand that sort of thing.

“So, yes,” she said, bobbing her head a little in concession of my point, “I stretched the truth just a teeny bit. But it wasn’t really a lie, sugar. More of a fib. Besides, your spring vacation is next week. You’re just leaving a little early.”

When she put it that way, it kind of made sense. Also, I was happy to see her smiling again, and a road trip did sound kind of wonderful. Maybe it was what we needed to put things right again.

“Aren’t we going home to pack?” I asked when she nosed the car onto the highway.

“Already took care of that,” Calpurnia said breezily. “Our suitcases are in the trunk and I’ve got a picnic basket full of snacks in the back seat. You want a praline? Get one for me too, sugar.”

I unbuckled my seat belt briefly to retrieve our sweets, then settled in for the drive. Calpurnia’s sedan was practically new, a replacement by the insurance company after the old one had been declared a total loss in the accident, and it still had traces of that rubbery new-car smell. I finished my praline, licked the sugar off my fingers, then fiddled with the radio until I found a song I liked and hummed along, trying to decide which Hanson brother was the cutest, thinking I was lucky to be missing the end-of-week math test.

“Where are we going?” I asked when the song ended.

“On an adventure.”

“I know, but where?”

“First stop is Savannah. I have some business to attend to. We can get some lunch too. And after that? It’s a surprise.”

Calpurnia turned her head in my direction and beamed, looking and sounding like the old Calpurnia. Suddenly I felt bathed in pure, unadulterated love and instantly forgave her everything, the way only children can. Anywhere she wanted to go was fine with me—Savannah, Ecuador, the dark side of the moon.

“You and I are going to have the time of our lives. Trust me,” she said.

I did trust her. I always

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