Fly Away Home by Vanessa Del Fabbro Page B

Francina said gently.
    â€œI can’t face my mother after what I’ve done.”
    â€œYour mother and children will forgive you.”
    Lucy buried her face in her hands and began to cry.
    Francina got up and put a hand on her trembling shoulder. Seeing Lucy in this state, she decided not to tell her that her mother was ill.
    â€œWe can take you home,” said Hercules quietly.
    Francina knew that Lucy had heard him because her shoulders stopped trembling. She did not uncover her face, but Francina sensed this was the pivotal moment in which she could decide to grant her her heart’s desire—unwittingly, of course—or dash her hopes forever. Francina felt a twinge of guilt for thinking of herself when the future of Lucy’s three children was also at stake, but it was not a sin for a mother to want to be with her daughter at all costs.
    Lucy lifted her head. “Fundiswa won’t even know me,” she said.
    Francina’s stomach lurched. She and Hercules were going to get their daughter back!
    â€œA child knows her mother,” she said in as calm a voice as she could manage. What she really wanted to say was, “Hurry and get your things so we can leave now.”
    â€œAre you sure it’s no problem to take me all the way to Cape Town?”
    â€œOf course not,” said Francina. “We’re going home, too.”
    â€œWhat were you doing in Johannesburg?” asked Lucy.
    She didn’t realize that the two of them had traveled all the way to Johannesburg to find her. Perhaps it would be preferable, Francina thought, if Lucy remained oblivious of this fact. She had agreed to come back with them; this was all that was important, and anything they said now might undo the progress they had made.
    Hercules, however, had other ideas. “We came to find you,” he said. “That’s how important you are to your family.”
    Francina watched Lucy try to digest this new information. “My mother is ill, isn’t she?” she asked at last.
    He nodded.
    Francina worried that Lucy might start crying again, but her eyes were dry, her voice calm.
    â€œThen I must go immediately.” She stood up. “I’ll tell the director I’m leaving, and get my things. I don’t have much, just a toothbrush and some toiletries. I’ll leave the clothes that were donated to me.”
    Francina and Hercules watched her go, and both let out a sigh of relief.
    â€œLet’s bring all the potatoes and onions inside,” said Francina. “I told you we’d find a place for them.”
    They hurried to the car and carried the bags back into the house. Lucy was waiting for them in the hallway.
    â€œJust what we need,” she said, looking at the bags. “Someone dropped off a crate of carrots and celery this morning, so now we can make vegetable soup. The girls love it.”
    Seeing Lucy smile, Francina was struck by her resemblance to Fundiswa, who had spent more than four of her five years apart from her mother.
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    From Johannesburg to Kimberley, a distance of two hundred and ninety miles, Lucy sat in silence, which she broke only to say thank-you whenever Francina passed her a bottle of water or offered her a butterscotch drop. But as they entered the flat, dry landscape of the Karoo, Lucy began to talk about her early years as a mother, when the boys were babies, and about how their father had never been a constant presence in their lives.
    As the temperature rose, they all rolled down their windows, and the smell of dried herbs filled the car.
    â€œWild rosemary,” said Lucy. “It’s wonderful with Karoo lamb.”
    â€œYou’re a cook?” asked Francina.
    â€œI used to love cooking,” said Lucy. “My favorite part was inventing something wonderful with the ingredients I had. I never used recipe books.”
    Francina’s mind began to tick furiously. If Mama Dlamini was offered a permanent