our life here. Barbie said Anders will know how to create the pictures for us.”
When I consider her words, Mama must see something on my face. She wraps her arms around me.
“We will always be Dandelions,” she whispers in my ear. “But, our home is with Anders now.”
Filled with relief, I hold Mama tighter. “I thought you might leave.”
“How can I leave a man who loves my chickpea shakshuka as much as Anders?” Mama teases, and I shiver with relief. “Leaving you and Anders would be like tearing out my heart. Dove and Future wouldn’t survive without you, either. This is our home.”
By the time we arrive at the newly-painted house, I’m exhausted from too many fighting emotions. Most of all, I missed Anders, but I knew he wanted everything to be nearly finished for his big reveal.
“Wow!” Future says as we walk inside.
My brother perfectly expresses how we feel once we see the rich yellows and greens on the walls. The once cold house feels warm and colorful now.
“This doesn’t look like Bronco’s house anymore,” I tell Anders, wrapping my arms around his waist. “This home belongs to Anders Van Der Haas. It’s as big and warm as his heart.”
“Only because of you,” he whispers, stroking my stomach where our baby grows.
Dove asks if she can see her room, now painted a pale purple. Mama takes the kids downstairs to investigate. She chose a light green for the bedroom she shares with Future. Though I’m excited to see everything, too, I remain at Anders’s side. He’s far more beautiful than any wall color.
“This home feels loved,” I tell Anders. “Do you?”
Anders just smiles and hugs me tighter to him. My grand sequoia does feel loved.
Despite his newfound confidence, Anders still struggles with his past. There are times when he can’t seem to find an ounce of peace in his own skin. His muscles clench as if he’s preparing to explode.
I don’t waste time explaining anything to him until he’s smoked a joint and gotten a little space from us. Then, I whisper to the scars on his body, reminding them how they represent Anders’s strength. Weaker people die from such suffering. Anders is a grand sequoia, battered by many cruel years yet as powerful as ever.
Anders knows I love the real him. No, he isn’t perfect. Occasionally, he’s downright cruel. I stand up to him at times and let him be at others. Mostly, I refuse to let his past ruin his present and future.
Anders is like a haunted house from the movies I watch during that first Halloween. Many times, he is quiet, undisturbed, beautiful. Other times, the pain from his youth and the years he spent with the Killing Joes can make him scary. The cruel voices in his head never want him to forget or forgive. If he lets his past die, they won’t exist, and everything fights to live on.
Yet, Anders is changing. So am I. Mostly, I’m beginning to understand this outside world’s many rules.
First, we go to the doctor and dentist like Topanga wants. She’s so amazed to learn we don’t have cavities.
“Few sweets and lots of flossing,” Mama explains. “Also, each Dandelion went to the dentist once a year back in Indiana.”
At the doctor, we learn about calorie intake. He encourages us to drink those nutritional shakes the Executioners brought the Volkshalberd. Mama also sees an eye doctor and gets glasses.
To become more independent of Anders and our new friends, Mama and I are learning to drive enough to get our legal papers. For now, we can use cars inside the Woodlands, where the Executioners are the law.
Dove doesn’t attend school. However, through the laptop computer, she has access to more learning than could ever be found at the Village. She loves books and spends hours outside with her reading tablet. Like at the Collective, she’s old enough to do mostly independent learning.
While my family learns to live in this world, the Woodlands remains very odd to me. These people love to party. Every little thing inspires a celebration. Each month, we receive an updated community calendar with all the parties, meetings, and birthdays. Topanga insists we take part. Mama, Dove, and I use the birthdays the government chose for us on the paperwork they did years ago. For Future, my mother picks a day in the month she knows he was born. Though we celebrate like Topanga wants, these ceremonies don’t really matter to us. As Dandelions, rejoicing dates and the