house and our barn, at Minnie and Olympia and Bea pecking in the dirt, at Anna May and Belle in the close-by field and at all of us children, and frowns. “He has a chance to better himself. Are you really going to stand in his way?”
“I don’t want to go to Boston,” cries Peter again, and he buries his face deeper in my arms.
Aunt Eleanor is looking at Mirabel. It looks like she is having second thoughts. “If he doesn’t want to go…,” she says.
“Nonsense,” says Mirabel. “I don’t have enough food to feed them all. I haven’t heard from James since he left.”
Peter starts sobbing so loud that Aunt Eleanor shakes her head. “I did think he was younger. It’s hard for a child this old to make a new start.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” says Mirabel. “He’s only seven. Plenty young enough.”
Eleanor is walking back to the car. I hold Peter tighter.
“He wants to stay with us,” I tell Mirabel. “This is going to make Papa really, really mad.”
This time I have the feeling I am getting through to Mirabel. She kneels down in the dirt beside Peter and tries to pull him onto her lap. Then she is whispering in his ear.
I expect she is telling him how it will be allright, how she has changed her mind and he doesn’t have to go. We will all stay here and wait for Papa and everything will be better very soon. But he starts crying even harder and I know this is not what she is telling him. Then she talks louder: “It will be all right in Boston, Peter. It is just a vacation. Just for a little while. You can go to school in Boston.”
“I don’t want to go to school,” Peter says, and then he starts howling again.
Aunt Eleanor looks at Uncle Will. “I don’t know,” she says.
Uncle Will is turning a little red. He keeps looking at his watch. “I didn’t come all this way,” he says, finally, and then he stomps over to us and reaches down and peels Peter from my neck. He lifts him up and carries him to the big car and drops him into the backseat and slams the door.
Then Aunt Eleanor rushes to the car and climbs inside and Uncle Will starts the motor. Even before I can loosen Birdie’s arms from my neck, Uncle Will is backing up out of our driveway. Peter has his face squished up against the window, and he is crying.
We all watch them go, and Birdie is sobbing because everyone else is crying, even Ivy.
I run after the big black car from Boston and rush out onto the road, and when it hurries over the hill and I can no longer see it, I start to really sob. When I lookup, Anna May and Belle are looking at me all tenderhearted, and Rosalyn and Phoebe have walked across the road to see what has happened. They wrap their arms around me, and it feels very much like I am wrapped up in Mama’s poppy-colored quilt. When Birdie comes over, they make room for her, too.
CHAPTER
23
Mirabel is baking an applesauce cake to make things better. She knows I love applesauce. I know what she is up to.
“How could you?” I scream. “How could you break us apart when Mama told us family was the most important thing?”
Mirabel must see the sparks flying off my head. She puts the flour sack on the table. Birdie does not understand things like sometimes you get so mad and sad at the same time that sparks really do fly off your head when tears are rolling down your face. She rushes up and tries to pull me away from Mirabel. She does not like loud voices or tears.
“Go away, Birdie.” This only makes her start crying, and then she rushes to Ivy, who is sitting at the table, waiting for supper.
“You’ve really done it this time,” Ivy tells me, pulling Birdie up onto her lap.
Ivy never pulls Birdie up onto her lap or does anything nice for Birdie at all. I would belt her if we were alone. “Shut up, Ivy. I wish Aunt Eleanor took you, not Peter. Then we would be rid of you.”
“Did you hear her?” shrieks Ivy, turning to Mirabel. “Did you hear the awful things she said to
“I don’t want to go to Boston,” cries Peter again, and he buries his face deeper in my arms.
Aunt Eleanor is looking at Mirabel. It looks like she is having second thoughts. “If he doesn’t want to go…,” she says.
“Nonsense,” says Mirabel. “I don’t have enough food to feed them all. I haven’t heard from James since he left.”
Peter starts sobbing so loud that Aunt Eleanor shakes her head. “I did think he was younger. It’s hard for a child this old to make a new start.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” says Mirabel. “He’s only seven. Plenty young enough.”
Eleanor is walking back to the car. I hold Peter tighter.
“He wants to stay with us,” I tell Mirabel. “This is going to make Papa really, really mad.”
This time I have the feeling I am getting through to Mirabel. She kneels down in the dirt beside Peter and tries to pull him onto her lap. Then she is whispering in his ear.
I expect she is telling him how it will be allright, how she has changed her mind and he doesn’t have to go. We will all stay here and wait for Papa and everything will be better very soon. But he starts crying even harder and I know this is not what she is telling him. Then she talks louder: “It will be all right in Boston, Peter. It is just a vacation. Just for a little while. You can go to school in Boston.”
“I don’t want to go to school,” Peter says, and then he starts howling again.
Aunt Eleanor looks at Uncle Will. “I don’t know,” she says.
Uncle Will is turning a little red. He keeps looking at his watch. “I didn’t come all this way,” he says, finally, and then he stomps over to us and reaches down and peels Peter from my neck. He lifts him up and carries him to the big car and drops him into the backseat and slams the door.
Then Aunt Eleanor rushes to the car and climbs inside and Uncle Will starts the motor. Even before I can loosen Birdie’s arms from my neck, Uncle Will is backing up out of our driveway. Peter has his face squished up against the window, and he is crying.
We all watch them go, and Birdie is sobbing because everyone else is crying, even Ivy.
I run after the big black car from Boston and rush out onto the road, and when it hurries over the hill and I can no longer see it, I start to really sob. When I lookup, Anna May and Belle are looking at me all tenderhearted, and Rosalyn and Phoebe have walked across the road to see what has happened. They wrap their arms around me, and it feels very much like I am wrapped up in Mama’s poppy-colored quilt. When Birdie comes over, they make room for her, too.
CHAPTER
23
Mirabel is baking an applesauce cake to make things better. She knows I love applesauce. I know what she is up to.
“How could you?” I scream. “How could you break us apart when Mama told us family was the most important thing?”
Mirabel must see the sparks flying off my head. She puts the flour sack on the table. Birdie does not understand things like sometimes you get so mad and sad at the same time that sparks really do fly off your head when tears are rolling down your face. She rushes up and tries to pull me away from Mirabel. She does not like loud voices or tears.
“Go away, Birdie.” This only makes her start crying, and then she rushes to Ivy, who is sitting at the table, waiting for supper.
“You’ve really done it this time,” Ivy tells me, pulling Birdie up onto her lap.
Ivy never pulls Birdie up onto her lap or does anything nice for Birdie at all. I would belt her if we were alone. “Shut up, Ivy. I wish Aunt Eleanor took you, not Peter. Then we would be rid of you.”
“Did you hear her?” shrieks Ivy, turning to Mirabel. “Did you hear the awful things she said to
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