The Chosen One - Carol Lynch Williams Page 0,55
about school, Kyra,” Samantha says.
“You’re my age,” Madison says. She’s taking huge bites of food. And I can tell this isn’t such a treat for her as it is for me. “So you’d be with me. In eighth grade.”
“You can think about it,” Samantha says.
I eat, silent. And then, “I’d like to play a piano.”
“Now?” Madison says.
Samantha says, “There’s one at home. In the family room. I can show you tomorrow. Nothing spectacular. But it’s in tune.”
“Okay. What about a bookmobile?” For a moment, there’s Patrick, grinning at me about a novel I’ve chosen. Showing me the newest book that he’s put aside.
“A bookmobile?” Madison says, and Samantha says, “We have a great library in town.”
My throat is tight with crepes and Patrick’s memory.
“A library would be good,” I say, and my voice is just a whisper.
LATE THAT NIGHT, I lie under the sheet in this new bed. My tummy is tight, it’s so full.
“We’re glad you’re here, Kyra,” Samantha says. “You’ve got a room with us as long as you need it. Good night.” She leaves, closing the door. I hear her walk away, hear her as she tucks Madison into bed. They talk for a few minutes. Are they talking about me?
Their murmuring voices remind me of my home. I wonder at my family. Do they miss me? Do they want me back home? Do I want to go back home?
Yes! Yes, I do!
There’s a tap at the door.
“What?” I sit up, the new nightgown Samantha pulled from a package for me itching at the back of my neck.
She leans into this room again. “Can I come in, Kyra?” The soft light from down the hall breaks all around her.
I nod, then say, “Yes.”
She settles on the side of my bed. Light comes into my room fat as a slice of pie. I feel, all the sudden, heavy with grief.
“Look,” Samantha says. She takes in a deep breath. “This isn’t going to be easy for you. It’s not, Kyra. But—” She pulls in more air. Clasps her hands in front of her. “But it’s going to be worth it. In the long run.”
I can’t even move.
“I missed my family like crazy, after I ran. But not my husband. Or my sister wives. I had my Jessica when I left, so I wasn’t entirely alone.”
Like me, I think.
“But if you hang in there, you’ll be okay. I just wanted you to know that.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure she even hears me.
She sits quiet and then says, “I’ve never had anyone stay longer than a month, but maybe that can change, Kyra. If you want.”
“Maybe,” I say.
THE IRONTON COUNTY Mobile Library on Wheels rolls down the road. I sit beside Patrick, a stack of books on my lap, a Big Gulp cup balanced on top. Laura is in the back of the van, picking books up and putting them on the shelves.
“Hold those steady, Kyra,” Patrick says. “Hold them steady. You are gonna love what I picked out for you to read.”
Laura says, “The God Squad are behind us.”
I look out the window. Everything is in black and white, like all the color has been washed from the world.
“Hurry, Patrick, hurry.” The books rock on my lap.
Patrick guns the engine, and just like that we take off into the sky, straight toward heaven. Fast! The God Squad grow small, like ants, on the road below.
“They’ll never get us here,” I say.
“That’s right,” Laura says.
“You’re safe, Kyra,” Patrick says.
I AWAKE with a start.
“Patrick?”
Outside, the wind blows.
I listen for the God Squad. For Patrick. There are tapping noises at my window.
“Laura?” I say. “Laura?”
It takes me a moment to figure out where I am.
“Laura’s not here,” I say into the darkness.
The sound at the window continues. And that’s when I know, I know, that Joshua is out there. That he’s come for me.
I throw back the covers and hurry to the window. I open the curtains.
There is no Joshua, just a tree. The branches scratch on the windowpane.
“You knew he couldn’t be here,” I say.
And I did, but still I start to cry. Not just because there’s no Joshua but because there’s no Laura or Margaret or Carolina. There’s no Mariah or Mother Sarah or Father. There’s no family waiting outside the window for me.
I crumple to the floor and weep. Who would think I could cry as much as I have today? But all that crying lets something loose in my brain.
Yes, my brain tells me, this is going to be hard. Like Samantha said. It’s going to be awful, living away from what I know. Without my family.
But look what Patrick did. And Joshua, too.
I am free.
(No old man waiting for me.)
If I want, I can look for Joshua. Find him.
I am free.
Thin morning light seeps into my window through the leaves of the tree when, at last, I crawl back into bed. And just as I let my eyes close, I realize that it’s a Russian Olive outside, tapping at my window.