an orphan. Oh, Raine! I finally tracked her down!”
“Whoa!” I said. “That’s great.” I was glad to think of something besides Gray. All these days of waiting long and wondering had finally worn me out. And I had such a jumbled mix of feelings, I didn’t know which feeling to feel first.
“Well, the best part is”—Josie stamped her feet—“Nettie Johnson’s coming to Comfort for a chat with you and me! On Friday! A chat and a piece of Blue Moon pie.”
“A chat with us?” I couldn’t believe Josie had finally found an orphan, someone who really lived at Sparrow Road. I’d been shy with Gray but I’d ask Nettie Johnson every question. What was it like to live at Sparrow Road? Did she know Lillian? Was Lillian an orphan or a teacher? Did she bake gingerbread at Christmas? Did the children really sleep down at the lake? Did all of them find families? Had Viktor Berglund been an orphan too?
When Friday came, Mama walked me to my bike and made me pinkie swear if I saw Gray in Comfort I wouldn’t go off with him alone.
“Molly, Molly,” Diego laughed. “Raine’s safe with me and Josie.”
“Safe and sound!” Josie hitched her patchwork dress up to her knees. She always rode like that—dress up, bare legs, big black buckle boots.
“I thought Gray was up to me,” I said.
“More or less,” Mama sighed. “But you’re my daughter, Raine. I want to know you’re with Josie and Diego.”
“Don’t worry,” I told Mama. For one day, I didn’t want the cloud of Mama’s fears hanging over me. I wanted peach pie and whatever orphan stories Nettie Johnson had to tell. “I won’t go off with Gray.”
When we’d finally biked away from Sparrow Road, Diego slowed to pedal right beside me; Josie had already bolted far ahead. “It’s a mother bear thing, Raine,” Diego panted. Behind him, his Hawaiian shirt flapped back like a bright kite in the breeze. His jet black hair shined blue in the sun. “Your mama’s got her claws out for her cub. Mother instinct.”
“But Mama said he wasn’t dangerous.”
“He’s not,” Diego wheezed. “But people make mistakes. I’ve made my share along the way.” I couldn’t picture Diego making a mistake. “Gray let your mama down and that’s a hurt that hasn’t healed. She just wants to keep your heart safe.”
“But Mama needs to let me go,” I said. “Things will be okay.”
“Probably so,” Diego said. “But protection? That’s pure mother instinct. Parent instinct. I had it for my boys. And Gray, he’s got father instincts of his own.” A storm of sweat rained down Diego’s face. “He wants the chance to be your dad.”
Your dad. No one had ever called Gray James my dad. It sounded foreign and too big to ever fit me. I was glad no one else was there to hear Diego say it. I needed time to wear those words alone.
29
Nettie Johnson and her husband were at the Blue Moon when we got there and her preacher husband, Reverend Johnson, looked liked anybody else. No black suit or special collar like Father Finnegan would wear. And Nettie didn’t look like an orphan. She was gray-haired, short and chubby, with bright pink fingernails, pink lipstick, and a pink sweat suit to match.
“That’s quite a head of hair,” Reverend Johnson said to Josie. “Reminds me of a rainbow.” He slid out of the booth. “I’m off to do my errands, then. I’m not much for sitting with the ladies.” Diego wasn’t either. He’d given up peach pie to hunt down junk in town. “Be back in a spell,” Reverend Johnson said to Nettie.
Our spell with Nettie lasted a long time; it lasted until Marge finally hung the CLOSED sign in the window. She’d already washed our cups and plates, refilled the sugar packet stacks. Nettie told us she was taken to Sparrow Road at two or three, after her mama died from flu. Her father was a soldier in the army, but he never came for her. “I stayed at Sparrow Road until I was fifteen. I wasn’t quite
“Whoa!” I said. “That’s great.” I was glad to think of something besides Gray. All these days of waiting long and wondering had finally worn me out. And I had such a jumbled mix of feelings, I didn’t know which feeling to feel first.
“Well, the best part is”—Josie stamped her feet—“Nettie Johnson’s coming to Comfort for a chat with you and me! On Friday! A chat and a piece of Blue Moon pie.”
“A chat with us?” I couldn’t believe Josie had finally found an orphan, someone who really lived at Sparrow Road. I’d been shy with Gray but I’d ask Nettie Johnson every question. What was it like to live at Sparrow Road? Did she know Lillian? Was Lillian an orphan or a teacher? Did she bake gingerbread at Christmas? Did the children really sleep down at the lake? Did all of them find families? Had Viktor Berglund been an orphan too?
When Friday came, Mama walked me to my bike and made me pinkie swear if I saw Gray in Comfort I wouldn’t go off with him alone.
“Molly, Molly,” Diego laughed. “Raine’s safe with me and Josie.”
“Safe and sound!” Josie hitched her patchwork dress up to her knees. She always rode like that—dress up, bare legs, big black buckle boots.
“I thought Gray was up to me,” I said.
“More or less,” Mama sighed. “But you’re my daughter, Raine. I want to know you’re with Josie and Diego.”
“Don’t worry,” I told Mama. For one day, I didn’t want the cloud of Mama’s fears hanging over me. I wanted peach pie and whatever orphan stories Nettie Johnson had to tell. “I won’t go off with Gray.”
When we’d finally biked away from Sparrow Road, Diego slowed to pedal right beside me; Josie had already bolted far ahead. “It’s a mother bear thing, Raine,” Diego panted. Behind him, his Hawaiian shirt flapped back like a bright kite in the breeze. His jet black hair shined blue in the sun. “Your mama’s got her claws out for her cub. Mother instinct.”
“But Mama said he wasn’t dangerous.”
“He’s not,” Diego wheezed. “But people make mistakes. I’ve made my share along the way.” I couldn’t picture Diego making a mistake. “Gray let your mama down and that’s a hurt that hasn’t healed. She just wants to keep your heart safe.”
“But Mama needs to let me go,” I said. “Things will be okay.”
“Probably so,” Diego said. “But protection? That’s pure mother instinct. Parent instinct. I had it for my boys. And Gray, he’s got father instincts of his own.” A storm of sweat rained down Diego’s face. “He wants the chance to be your dad.”
Your dad. No one had ever called Gray James my dad. It sounded foreign and too big to ever fit me. I was glad no one else was there to hear Diego say it. I needed time to wear those words alone.
29
Nettie Johnson and her husband were at the Blue Moon when we got there and her preacher husband, Reverend Johnson, looked liked anybody else. No black suit or special collar like Father Finnegan would wear. And Nettie didn’t look like an orphan. She was gray-haired, short and chubby, with bright pink fingernails, pink lipstick, and a pink sweat suit to match.
“That’s quite a head of hair,” Reverend Johnson said to Josie. “Reminds me of a rainbow.” He slid out of the booth. “I’m off to do my errands, then. I’m not much for sitting with the ladies.” Diego wasn’t either. He’d given up peach pie to hunt down junk in town. “Be back in a spell,” Reverend Johnson said to Nettie.
Our spell with Nettie lasted a long time; it lasted until Marge finally hung the CLOSED sign in the window. She’d already washed our cups and plates, refilled the sugar packet stacks. Nettie told us she was taken to Sparrow Road at two or three, after her mama died from flu. Her father was a soldier in the army, but he never came for her. “I stayed at Sparrow Road until I was fifteen. I wasn’t quite
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