said, not what the telegram said. He was alive. He’d been found on an island and had been recuperating in a hospital in the Philippines. He was coming home.
“And more, Jayna,” Celine said. “The second telegram for you. From Rob himself.”
I couldn’t answer; I just nodded.
“ ‘My dear sister, Jayna. I’m on my way home. We’ll have soup!’ ”
Celine went on talking. “I telegrammed back immediately with the bakery’s address so he knows where you are. He won’t want to waste a minute getting to you.”
After we’d hung up, I stayed against the wall, my head on my raised knees. All the waiting was almost over.
The old man came over and patted my shoulder. “Are you all right, Jayna?”
How surprised he was when I reached out and put my arms around his neck. Imagine! A man I hardly knew.
I danced across the street, into the bakery, and spun Elise around. “Alive!” I said. “Coming home!” I couldn’t imagine words that were more beautiful.
The war ended on a hot sunny day in August. Kids banged pots and pans on Carey Street, church bells pealed, and fire engines clanged their horns.
Elise twirled me around the kitchen and pulled Mr. Ohland in with us. Ella was yapping excitedly and we were laughing, crying.
For days, I kept looking down the street, watching the entrance to the subway station.
But when Rob came, when he finally came, I didn’t see him walking along Carey Street. I heard the bell in front, though, and Elise calling, “Jayna, I think he’s here.”
I reached for the curtain, pushed it open, and he ran toward me, yellow flowers in his hand.
After we hugged, hugged forever, I took the flowers. “You remembered that day at the pond.” I looked up at him. “I knew you’d come.”
He didn’t answer. He just smiled. But I saw his eyes fill with tears.
We went outside to see Theresa in her new pool, and it didn’t take long for everyone to be there with us. Andrew and Millie, Mr. Ohland and his pug, and Elise … of course, Elise.
I thought about the ghost and where she might be. Then I went back to the kitchen. I’d saved the recipe for this day.
Welcome-Home Soup
INGREDIENTS
A lot of fresh blueberries
Water
Sugar to taste
A bit of lemon (I like a lot.)
A couple of tablespoons of cornstarch
WHAT TO DO
Wash the blueberries. Get rid of any stems.
Eat a couple.
In a pot, cover the rest of the berries with water.
Add some sugar and the lemon.
Cook over low heat. DON’T BURN.
When the blueberries are soft, stir in the cornstarch.
Keep stirring until it thickens a bit.
You can serve it hot, cold, or medium!
MONTHS LATER …
I know what you’re thinking. You believe there never was a ghost. After all, she had my ginger hair; she wore my nail polish and even my jacket with the silver buttons
.
But listen to this. Just listen
.
Rob and I went to Coney Island. We swam in the surf, our heads tilted up to catch the warm sun. Afterward, we sat on a blanket, eating the sandwiches and gingersnaps Elise had packed for us
.
Would I tell him about the ghost? He always believed me
.
But he had something to say first. “I was on that raft for weeks,” he said. “Once in a while, I caught a fish. Sometimes it rained. But the sunburn was terrible, and the waves were high. And at last, I was ready to give up.”
I shook my head, hardly able to swallow
.
“But the oddest thing, Jayna,” he said. “There in the middle of the ocean, I thought I saw a stone on the edge of the raft.”
He looked at me. “Really, a stone.”
“I believe you,” I said
.
“I reached out for it, but the raft was so unsteady, it rolled into the ocean. I remembered the funny little stone we’d found in the pond, and I knew I had to stay alive for you.”
I was crying, crying again. How many tears had I shed in the last year?
Rob went on. “I sat up for the first time in days and saw green trees, an island, not so far. I managed to swim. I stayed alive until I was
“And more, Jayna,” Celine said. “The second telegram for you. From Rob himself.”
I couldn’t answer; I just nodded.
“ ‘My dear sister, Jayna. I’m on my way home. We’ll have soup!’ ”
Celine went on talking. “I telegrammed back immediately with the bakery’s address so he knows where you are. He won’t want to waste a minute getting to you.”
After we’d hung up, I stayed against the wall, my head on my raised knees. All the waiting was almost over.
The old man came over and patted my shoulder. “Are you all right, Jayna?”
How surprised he was when I reached out and put my arms around his neck. Imagine! A man I hardly knew.
I danced across the street, into the bakery, and spun Elise around. “Alive!” I said. “Coming home!” I couldn’t imagine words that were more beautiful.
The war ended on a hot sunny day in August. Kids banged pots and pans on Carey Street, church bells pealed, and fire engines clanged their horns.
Elise twirled me around the kitchen and pulled Mr. Ohland in with us. Ella was yapping excitedly and we were laughing, crying.
For days, I kept looking down the street, watching the entrance to the subway station.
But when Rob came, when he finally came, I didn’t see him walking along Carey Street. I heard the bell in front, though, and Elise calling, “Jayna, I think he’s here.”
I reached for the curtain, pushed it open, and he ran toward me, yellow flowers in his hand.
After we hugged, hugged forever, I took the flowers. “You remembered that day at the pond.” I looked up at him. “I knew you’d come.”
He didn’t answer. He just smiled. But I saw his eyes fill with tears.
We went outside to see Theresa in her new pool, and it didn’t take long for everyone to be there with us. Andrew and Millie, Mr. Ohland and his pug, and Elise … of course, Elise.
I thought about the ghost and where she might be. Then I went back to the kitchen. I’d saved the recipe for this day.
Welcome-Home Soup
INGREDIENTS
A lot of fresh blueberries
Water
Sugar to taste
A bit of lemon (I like a lot.)
A couple of tablespoons of cornstarch
WHAT TO DO
Wash the blueberries. Get rid of any stems.
Eat a couple.
In a pot, cover the rest of the berries with water.
Add some sugar and the lemon.
Cook over low heat. DON’T BURN.
When the blueberries are soft, stir in the cornstarch.
Keep stirring until it thickens a bit.
You can serve it hot, cold, or medium!
MONTHS LATER …
I know what you’re thinking. You believe there never was a ghost. After all, she had my ginger hair; she wore my nail polish and even my jacket with the silver buttons
.
But listen to this. Just listen
.
Rob and I went to Coney Island. We swam in the surf, our heads tilted up to catch the warm sun. Afterward, we sat on a blanket, eating the sandwiches and gingersnaps Elise had packed for us
.
Would I tell him about the ghost? He always believed me
.
But he had something to say first. “I was on that raft for weeks,” he said. “Once in a while, I caught a fish. Sometimes it rained. But the sunburn was terrible, and the waves were high. And at last, I was ready to give up.”
I shook my head, hardly able to swallow
.
“But the oddest thing, Jayna,” he said. “There in the middle of the ocean, I thought I saw a stone on the edge of the raft.”
He looked at me. “Really, a stone.”
“I believe you,” I said
.
“I reached out for it, but the raft was so unsteady, it rolled into the ocean. I remembered the funny little stone we’d found in the pond, and I knew I had to stay alive for you.”
I was crying, crying again. How many tears had I shed in the last year?
Rob went on. “I sat up for the first time in days and saw green trees, an island, not so far. I managed to swim. I stayed alive until I was
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