expressions on their faces are of unspeakable fear and worry; Lucy can hear them begging, pleading with their eyes, can this really happen to us ? The stone wall behind the sculpture reads, “...that in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” She does not have to read the name below them to know whose words they are. Since May, she has pored over Anne Frank’s diary so many times she can recite the most poignant quotes by heart. If anyone can illustrate resiliency with unflappable bravery, it is that of the thirteen-year-old girl who was forced into hiding by the evils of anti-Semitism. For a period of time, the insightful teen survived one of the worst horrors of prejudice with her will to live and unbroken spirit. It was a lesson that crossed generations and gave Lucy a renewed sense of self. After all, Atlanta had been her personal horror.
She steps back from the statue—its warm glow brushing against her cheeks—and sees her bus turning the corner. She thinks about Levon. It will take some time, but she is sure she can help him. George will be her accomplice; George will wheedle him along. She will walk him when she gets home. Something tells her Levon will come to her.
Chapter 10
“How about taking a ride with me to my office, Levon?” Craig is standing in the doorway reminding him of how going to his office as a small child was once a huge deal. Levon doodles on the page, acutely aware that Lucy Bell has infiltrated his thoughts. He slams the notebook shut.
“Sure, I’ll come,” he says and places the binder in his knapsack so he can tote it along and write whatever comes to mind.
They make the drive to his office in downtown Miami in minimal traffic. It is a glorious fall day, the heat and humidity had been wiped away by the thunderstorms earlier in the morning.
Idle comments about the weather (“The temperature must have dropped ten degrees since yesterday.”) to sports (“Do you think the Dolphins have a chance against the Patriots this weekend?”) fill the car. Levon tries frantically to remember the last time he accompanied his dad to work. The filing cabinet in his brain remembers the disappointments.
There was “Bring Your Child to Work Day,” when Levon dressed in his best khaki pants and white oxford button-down, only to be told that Chloe had a fever. Since his mother had jury duty that day, his father had to stay home and monitor his sister’s vitals. Levon resentfully went off to school. He was in the third grade, eight years old, and one of only three children in the class. The other two were givens: Harry Framer’s dad lived in New York City and Lily Davis’ dad was dead.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” his father finally says. At first, Levon thinks he can hear his thoughts, that he’s taking responsibility for the earlier disappointment. Craig continues by saying, “Your mom’s having a tough time. We all are.”
As if Levon didn’t know that. They all were.
They are on the MacArthur Causeway passing the exclusive, pricey mansions of Star and Palm Islands on the right and the deserted Port of Miami on the left. This is one of Levon’s favorite stretches of road where the turquoise waves kiss the shoreline and the palm trees line the median. As a kid, he would stare up at the cruise ships—massive floating cities—that lined the port’s seawalls. Today they are all at sea. If he acknowledges his dad’s remark, he is admitting blame. If he ignores the comment, he stands to offend, and that is not something he wants to do.
“How are we supposed to get through this?” Levon asks.
His father doesn’t have the answer and he tells him so. “A lot has been broken, Levon. Some of it will never be fixed.”
“Will you ever trust me again?” he asks, in need of the man’s forgiveness.
“Give us some time,” his father answers, and Levon notices at once how he uses
She steps back from the statue—its warm glow brushing against her cheeks—and sees her bus turning the corner. She thinks about Levon. It will take some time, but she is sure she can help him. George will be her accomplice; George will wheedle him along. She will walk him when she gets home. Something tells her Levon will come to her.
Chapter 10
“How about taking a ride with me to my office, Levon?” Craig is standing in the doorway reminding him of how going to his office as a small child was once a huge deal. Levon doodles on the page, acutely aware that Lucy Bell has infiltrated his thoughts. He slams the notebook shut.
“Sure, I’ll come,” he says and places the binder in his knapsack so he can tote it along and write whatever comes to mind.
They make the drive to his office in downtown Miami in minimal traffic. It is a glorious fall day, the heat and humidity had been wiped away by the thunderstorms earlier in the morning.
Idle comments about the weather (“The temperature must have dropped ten degrees since yesterday.”) to sports (“Do you think the Dolphins have a chance against the Patriots this weekend?”) fill the car. Levon tries frantically to remember the last time he accompanied his dad to work. The filing cabinet in his brain remembers the disappointments.
There was “Bring Your Child to Work Day,” when Levon dressed in his best khaki pants and white oxford button-down, only to be told that Chloe had a fever. Since his mother had jury duty that day, his father had to stay home and monitor his sister’s vitals. Levon resentfully went off to school. He was in the third grade, eight years old, and one of only three children in the class. The other two were givens: Harry Framer’s dad lived in New York City and Lily Davis’ dad was dead.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” his father finally says. At first, Levon thinks he can hear his thoughts, that he’s taking responsibility for the earlier disappointment. Craig continues by saying, “Your mom’s having a tough time. We all are.”
As if Levon didn’t know that. They all were.
They are on the MacArthur Causeway passing the exclusive, pricey mansions of Star and Palm Islands on the right and the deserted Port of Miami on the left. This is one of Levon’s favorite stretches of road where the turquoise waves kiss the shoreline and the palm trees line the median. As a kid, he would stare up at the cruise ships—massive floating cities—that lined the port’s seawalls. Today they are all at sea. If he acknowledges his dad’s remark, he is admitting blame. If he ignores the comment, he stands to offend, and that is not something he wants to do.
“How are we supposed to get through this?” Levon asks.
His father doesn’t have the answer and he tells him so. “A lot has been broken, Levon. Some of it will never be fixed.”
“Will you ever trust me again?” he asks, in need of the man’s forgiveness.
“Give us some time,” his father answers, and Levon notices at once how he uses
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