A Million Miles From Boston (22 page)

Superior tried to stand but kept slipping, so finally she just sat, watching.

My shoulders burned as we reached the end of the Point. The wind changed, blowing through us, and we paddled harder. We passed the rocks, and the water calmed. The beach was beautiful from out here, water rushing at the rocks, wind bending the tree branches.

We looked up. The eagle nest sat high in the elbow of a tree.

“It’s gigantic!” Ian said. The nest seemed solid and strong, with sticks woven through it. But it was so exposed. How did
eagles protect their young during a storm? “Are you sure the eagles are still there? Maybe they left the nest.”

“They work pretty hard on their nests and come back to them every year,” I said. We held our paddles across the kayak, staring at the sky and waiting.

Every day we met after lunch and took out the kayak. We didn’t see the eagles, but we didn’t tip over, either. Each day was easier for Superior, too. Sometimes I thought about how Annie might be with Ian—flirty, talkative. Then I’d get quiet, remembering everything that had happened between us.

But mostly we had fun. We paddled all over the Point. Superior and I showed him the path to town. And we caught stripers off the rocks at the beach.

The following week, Ian showed up on our last day of camp. Peter beamed and walked over to stand next to him. We played kickball and rescue princess and it was a lot easier with Ian helping.

At noon the moms arrived with cider and doughnut holes.

“To Lucy, for a wonderful camp.” Mrs. Dennis raised her glass and everyone cheered. “Will you do this again next summer?”

“Maybe.” Next summer I wouldn’t have a kayak to buy.

“You and Ian could run it together,” Mrs. Avery said.

“Yeah!” Peter said. Ian and I glanced at each other, then smiled.

After everyone left, I walked to Ian, waiting on the swing. “Thanks for helping.”

“A lot of work.” He laughed. “I’m glad it’s over!”

We were quiet as we walked back to my cottage. School started next week.

At the cottage Dad made grilled cheese with Goldfish crackers inside; then the three of us sat on the porch and ate. Afterward Ian had to go home but we made plans to meet later. Dad and I watched as he started down the road.

“Mr. Richards stopped by,” Dad said. “He’s pretty sure the water damage at the Big House hasn’t gotten any farther. Looks like we made the right decision, just to go after the porch.”

“Yes!” I said.

“Ian’s a good kid. Complicated, huh?”

I nodded. Would we still be friends when school started?

ucky and I hung streamers from the porch rafters. Kiki had given me the leftover ones from Jake’s party. Then Bucky, Julia and I made Dad’s birthday dinner while he sat outside calling, “What’s going on? What are you making?”

The pasta wasn’t cooked enough and the broccoli was cooked too much. But everyone liked the chocolate cake Bucky and I made. I kept glancing out the screen at the dark clouds. I couldn’t wait to give Dad his present. Finally, after Bucky gave him a grenade made out of papier-mâché and Julia gave him books, I jumped up. “Come outside!”

“This is certainly mysterious,” Dad said, following me. The air was cool and more leaves had started to change.

“Close your eyes.” I led Dad to the edge of the yard. Ian and I had brought the kayak over to our dock.

We stopped. “Look down, on the dock.”

He opened his eyes. “The Steeles’ kayak.”

“Not anymore. I bought it. Happy birthday.”

“Whoa!” Bucky said.

“Lucy.” Dad hugged me. “What a present! How? With camp money? You worked so hard. It must’ve taken every cent you made.”

“It wasn’t that much.”

“What a thoughtful gift,” Julia said.

“Thank you!” Dad said.

“What are you waiting for?” Julia asked. Dad grinned and took her hand, and we all went down the stairs. On the dock he put on a life jacket, then handed one to me. I gave it to Julia.

“Are you sure?” she asked. I nodded.

Bucky and I sat on the dock as they paddled toward the end of the Point. Twenty minutes later they were back and Dad climbed off, handing me his life jacket.

“Come on,” he said. “We saw an eagle.”

I yanked on the jacket and got on the kayak behind Julia. Superior jumped between us. We paddled, instantly getting into a groove. The water was rough as we rounded the Point. I looked over the side at the rocks and took a deep breath.

“Okay, this is where we saw it.” She stopped paddling.

The sky was gray, and the wind strong, but the eagle nest didn’t move. We were quiet. The water rocked the kayak. She turned to me.

“Did you know eagles mate for life?” This was the only thing I could think of to say.

“You know a lot about eagles.”

She kept looking at me, so I said, “Did you know they
always come back to the same nest? And that they keep making their nests stronger?”

“They’re good at remodeling.” She laughed. I held my breath. I’d been trying to forget about what had happened on the campout. But I knew she hadn’t forgotten, either.

“Lucy, remember when I told you that I knew what it felt like to lose someone you love? That happened to me. My husband died.”

I swallowed. “How?”

“He had a brain aneurysm. Sudden.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She nodded. “It was … awful. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

I didn’t want to talk about this but at the same time I was interested.

“When I met your dad, we had so much to talk about. We shared this—losing my husband, your mom. Then I fell so in love with him. But you need to know something. You already have a mom. I’m not going to try to be a mom to you. I guess I’ll be …”

“You guess you’ll be what?”

“I’ll just be Julia.” She smiled and turned around.

I looked down at the water, tiny whitecaps peaking here and there. The water had been just like this the day we’d spread Mom’s ashes off our dock. As the ashes bounced on the whitecaps and broke apart and floated away, I thought, Mom will forever be part of the ocean and the Point.

I glanced at Superior, her ears pricked, her nose close to the water.

Did people remember events a certain way in order to explain things? Maybe I felt guilty about Mom’s death because I was trying to make sense of something that was too awful to understand.

“Lucy, look!”

An eagle soared high above us, wings spread. It circled over the water, then glided toward the nest, its head white, wings brown, massive, stretching the width of a house, it seemed. Its feet came down and its wings folded as it landed in the nest and disappeared.

“Wow!” I said.

“Spectacular!”

We smiled at each other and waited for another sighting. But the sky kept darkening and the eagle stayed in its nest. We paddled back. The water was choppier, but I had on a life jacket. Superior was here. The shore was close and Julia was in front of me, arms strong as she paddled.

It started to sprinkle when we reached the dock. We lifted the kayak and covered it with the tarp. The water rolled, black with whitecaps as it banged into the dock and shore. And then I felt that space open up inside me and start to fill with something heavy and wet.

I closed my eyes and breathed, deeply, slowly, as the wind blew through my hair.

I knew what that big space inside me was. It was sadness
and longing and something that had to do with losing what I loved most. It was my mom.

Then I opened my eyes. It was good to feel her this way, even if it was also painful. But she’d always be with me. And no matter what changed, nothing could take that away.

By the time we reached the cottage, cold, hard raindrops bounced off our shoulders, heads, arms—but we laughed.

“How about I make some hot chocolate?” Julia asked as Dad gave her a hug.

Bucky set up the Monopoly board and the four of us played on the porch, drinking hot chocolate and listening to the rain.

y homeroom was in a science classroom, second floor. I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting for the bell. I wore what my friends wore: plaid shorts, T-shirt, sandals. I smiled and said hi to everyone. When anyone asked, I said, “Yes, I had a great summer! Did you?”

Three days earlier, after we packed the car, we drove around the Point one last time, stopping at the Big House. Workers had torn away the entire porch, and the house looked exposed, its beams and foundation open to the elements.

Dad said, “Think of it this way: the new porch will be much sturdier as it wraps around the Big House.” Holding it, supporting it, protecting it.

Kiki stopped by on her way to college and hugged all of us. And I cried when we said good-bye to the Steeles.

The minute I got home, I called Mei, and we saw each
other that night. Mei, Annie, Rachel and I spent the last two days of summer together. Then we went to Duggan for an open house, and met the seventh-grade teachers.

After that we stopped by Taylor Elementary. Walking the halls and talking to our old teachers, who were setting up their classrooms, I was sad—especially when I hugged Mrs. Jonas. But Taylor felt small. And I could go back whenever I wanted.

Now Mei turned in her seat in front of me. She wore new gold peace-sign earrings. I wore silver. “Here comes Michael.”

He grinned as he lowered himself into a seat next to Mei. So far, we were the only ones from Taylor in this homeroom.

Then Ian walked in and sat next to me. We smiled at each other.

Finally our teacher closed the door and everyone grew quiet.

“I’m Ms. Bruner, your science teacher. I’ve got your schedules.” She was young, with short, spiky black hair and funky purple-framed glasses. She crossed the room and opened a window. Warm air rushed in, blowing her scarf over her face. She laughed.

I sat up straighter. Science might be interesting. She started calling names.

“Hey, Lucy!” Michael said. “Must’ve been a big bite seeing Ian all summer.”

What had Ian told him? Mei rolled her eyes when I glanced at her.

Michael started in about summer camp and someone else interrupted with talk about baseball camp.

“Lucy.” Ian leaned across his desk. “Did your dad like the kayak?”