The Year the Swallows Came Early by Kathryn Fitzmaurice

things.”
    That’s when it came to me. What if Daddy had secretly put all of Great-grandmother’s money in the safe-deposit box? What if Mama’d been wrong all along? After all, she probably didn’t even know about Daddy keeping important things there.
    I felt overwhelmed with relief. That had to be it. Daddy hadn’t really lost all that money on a bet. He’d put it in the safest place possible. People all over the world were probably doing the same exact thing this very minute.
    Feeling this sudden happiness, I noticed the sky’s perfect blue color, the way the birds on the electrical wire above me were singing so perfect. The way the smell of seaweed and salt floated even more perfectly through the warm air.
    I smiled and walked inside the bank. I imagined saying to anyone who stopped me, Oh yes, I’m here to get into my safe-deposit box again, like I was last week . I get into it all the time. You might have seen me before because of all the times I am here. I made my way to the safe-deposit box area, like a person does when they bring the lunch count and roll call up to the school office for their teacher. With authority.And slightly on a mission.
    â€œHello, Groovy.” Pastor Ken suddenly stood in front of me, holding a large envelope marked PETTY CASH . “How are you today?” He smiled his usual big smile.
    I looked around quickly to see if anyone else I knew was inside that I hadn’t seen through the window. “Fine,” I told him.
    He smiled again. Then he said, “How are you and your mother getting along since…well, since your father’s been gone?” He stepped closer to me. “Luis mentioned what happened.”
    â€œWe’re fine,” I said. I thought about how Daddy would be getting out of jail as soon as I showed Mama the money that’d been inside the safe-deposit box all along.
    â€œWhy don’t you bring your mother with you to church when I get back in a few weeks? I’m leaving next week for our annual mission trip to Mexico with all this money we’ve been collecting. Our best year yet for donations.” He held out the envelope.
    â€œI’ll try,” I said, knowing what Mama would say about that.
    He smiled even bigger then. “You might want to think about coming with us for a week next year when you’re older. We go over spring break. Luis is considering coming with Frankie next year. There’s always a lot to be done, painting, cleaning. You could even help with the food like you help Luis at the Swallow.”
    â€œMaybe I could,” I said in my most polite voice that meant I would think about it but that Mama would probably say no.
    He nodded. “I’ll see you when I get back then.”
    â€œOkay,” I told him. I watched Pastor Ken stroll out the door and down the street. When I was certain he was far enough away, I walked toward the man sitting behind the desk.
    â€œMay I help you, young lady?” he asked me. He had a reddish face with some sweat on his forehead, and wore a blue suit and tie with a gold name tag pinned on his left pocket, whichread, MR. HUGHES . And he was looking at me through glasses that made his eyes look twice as big as normal. Being the kind of important man he was, Mr. Hughes had papers and files all over his desk.
    â€œI need to get into box number one hundred seventy-three, please,” I said. “It’s important.”
    â€œHmmm,” said Mr. Hughes, and he looked me over.
    â€œI have a key,” I replied, extra nice, and reached into my pocket, pulling it out to show him it was true.
    Mr. Hughes’s nose scrunched up as he looked at the key, leaning forward just a little. He pushed his glasses back into place.
    â€œThat does indeed appear to be one of our safe-deposit box keys,” he said finally.
    I let out a sigh of relief that traveled through the air between us, lifting up the front strands of his hair