Boomtown (18 page)

Janice was in the living room waiting for us. The baby was asleep in her arms, snuggled in a thick blanket. The room was warm and dimly lit in the waning light of the winter afternoon. There was Christmas music playing on the radio, and I could hear Sarah and Jonny whispering in the other room as he told her what had happened. Ruth hovered nearby, waiting for the verdict.

Janice smiled nervously and asked, “So what did you find out?”

She rocked the baby gently, waiting for my answer. I could see redness in her eyes. She had been crying. She was afraid I'd found the father, afraid he'd changed his mind, afraid she'd have to let go of the baby—a baby who had only been in our home for one day but was now in her heart forever. She was afraid I'd tell her to get in the car, afraid of what would happen when we got there. Looking at my wife clutching the baby, that's when I finally understood.

“I found out what happens when you have to make a hard choice because of a difficult situation. The father of the baby, he had to make a choice. The mother and her parents, they had to make a choice. The chief had to choose between
one
of his people versus
all
of his people. And you and I, we have to make a choice too.”

Janice held her breath and waited for me to finish.

“I learned something new today. I learned that when you've made a wrong choice, the best way to redeem it is to make a
right
choice.”

“And what
is
the right choice?” she asked, almost whispering.

I smiled and said, “I suppose if she's going to stay, you have to pick a good name.”

Janice gasped. “You mean it?
Thank you!
Thank you, honey!” She kissed the baby's forehead. “You won't regret this, I promise.” Then she kissed me.

Ruth began to cry and I heard Sarah hollering from the other room, “I knew it! I knew it! She gets to stay!” She came running into the living room to celebrate with us. Jonny came in behind her, and even
he
was excited about the baby—even if she wasn't a boy
.

Janice said, “I've already picked out a name. I've been thinking about it ever since we saw her on the porch.”

“What is it?” we all asked her.

“I want to name her Holly, because her skin is such a pretty red like a holly berry. It will remind us that she came on Christmas. What do you think?”

“It goes perfect with her Hopontop name,” I answered. “Before I left, the chief told me they called her Snowbird
.
He said it was because she flew into our lives in winter.”

Janice laughed and wiped at her tears. “Holly Snowbird. I absolutely love it. I don't think I've ever been this happy.”

And you know what? To be perfectly honest, neither had I.

CHAPTER 9

The Boomtown Museum

H
olly settled into our family like she'd always been there. She was happy, healthy, and loved, not only by our family but by everyone who met her. The church members were delighted. The old women clucked and cooed over the baby. They held a baby shower and sewed little dresses and offered to baby-sit. It's true that some were uncomfortable with Holly's mixed heritage, but for the most part, everyone was gracious and kind.

Once a month the circuit judge, Maria Rodriguez, would come into town. She'd hold court at town hall and hear any cases pertaining to Boomtown; usually there wasn't much for her to do. During this particular visit, she met in closed session with the mayor and Sheriff Ernie to review the progress of the investigation into the mysterious robberies. This was followed by a second closed session with Holly's grand­parents—and the baby's mother, who had returned to Boomtown to complete the adoption.

We sat nervously in another part of the building waiting for the news. After about a hour (it seemed more like ten), the judge called us into her chambers. Janice and the three kids heaved a huge sigh of relief when we were told that the mother had not changed her mind; rather, she had wished us well and was happy that her daughter would be raised by a loving family. Many of our friends were there to witness the signing of the papers, and afterward we held a huge celebration party at the Nuthouse restaurant. It was one of those perfect, amazing, life-changing days I will never forget.

A week after the adoption ceremony, we decided to have our first official family outing. It was Saturday, so we took Sheriff Ernie's advice and headed to the Boomtown Museum. Burton had told us all about the museum—actually a mansion that had been
converted
into a museum. It was the largest single residence in Boomtown, located on the east side of town, situated on eighty sprawling acres nestled against the Okanogan River, with gardens, walking trails, workshops, and the Boomtown Power Plant and Water Pumping Station. It was a three-story Victorian home with twenty rooms, four elevators, a conservatory, a great room, a basement, and a number of sub-basement levels where the inner workings of the house and the exhibits were stored.

Beyond its Victorian facade, however, all resemblance to a “normal” house ended. It had been the property of Dr. Mfana Losotu, the famous South African inventor, philanthropist, musician, archeologist, linguist, business-man, author, and teacher. Dr. Losotu was as well known for his generosity as he was for his inventions. He had also been a close personal friend of Chang. They had collaborated on a variety of projects—most that worked, a few that hadn't. He'd been a minority owner of the powder factory and Chang's partner in a number of business interests.

When Dr. Losotu died in 1929, he bequeathed his home, its contents, the land, and a portion of the estate as a perpetual endowment to maintain the home as a museum. Burton told us that ever since its foundation, the children and grand-children of Dr. Losotu had managed the property.

When our family came to the door, we were greeted by a stunningly beautiful black woman dressed in the traditional garb of her homeland: a purple turban, an ochre shawl, a bright red skirt, an elaborately beaded
gorget
around her neck, copper arm bands, and woven grass and bead anklets on her bare feet. She bowed deeply as we entered and introduced herself as Samora Losotu, the great-granddaughter of Dr. Losotu.

“You're so beautiful!” Sarah said.

“Thank you. So are you,” she said graciously.

“I'm Sarah, and this is my baby sister, Holly. I'm ten years old. That makes me the
big
sister.”

“Yes, it certainly does,” Samora said, with a gentle laugh.

“I'm sure you're a very good big sister. And who are these others?”

“This is my mom and dad, and this is Ruth and Jonny.” “Pleased to meet all of you.” Samora shook hands all around. “And now let me introduce you to my great-grandfather.” She gestured to a large painting of the inventor with a brief printed history of his life and career hanging next to it.

We studied the painting for a moment, and then Janice commented, “It says here that your great-grandfather was a member of the Xhosa tribe from the western cape of South Africa. How did he get from Africa all the way here to Boomtown?”

She smiled and answered in a soft voice, tinged with a distinctive South African accent. “He didn't precisely
come
so much as he was
taken
,” she said. “In 1854, he was captured by raiders and sold into slavery. He was only fifteen at the time.”

“That's terrible!”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Separated from his family and home, he survived the voyage to America—many of the people who were taken did not. He landed in Virginia and from there was sold to a plantation owner just outside of Atlanta. For nine years he worked as a slave in the fields until the owner and his sons left to fight in the Battle of Gettysburg. Mfana decided to escape and make his way north. He was helped along the way by none other than Harriet Tubman herself, who guided him to a safe house of Thomas Garrett in Wilmington, Delaware. He lived there secretly for six weeks.”

“We learned about the Underground Railroad in school,” Sarah said.

“That's good. If it weren't for Harriet Tubman and Thomas Garrett, my great-grandfather might not have survived. As it was, Mr. Garrett soon learned of Mfana's nimble mind. He taught him how to read and write. Into the wee hours of the night, he studied and prepared himself for the next stage of his escape. Arrangements were made to send him west. While he traveled by train, wagon, or on foot he continued to
read
. He read anything he could lay his hands on. Do you like to read?”

“It's my favorite thing to do,” Sarah said. “I love books.”

“Excellent! Reading is what you need to do. Then you could grow up to be like Mfana. Because he was so smart, he was able to work his way across the country. With each new job, he mastered new skills. He was an apprentice to a blacksmith, carpenter, wheelwright, cobbler, liveryman, farrier, miller, and so on. He learned about astronomy, philosophy, religion, government, history, finance, metallurgy, geology, chemistry, and mechanics.

“By the time he was forty-two, he'd reached the West Coast and San Francisco. That's where he met my great-grandmother, Nthati. Just like Mfana, she was an escaped slave from South Africa. Isn't that amazing? Two people from the same place meeting on the opposite side of the world! They were soon married and later gave birth to my grandfather; his name is Mendi. But Mfana was restless; he didn't want to stay in San Francisco. He had big ideas. He had a dream!”

Sarah's eyes were as big as full moons. “I have dreams all the time. Did he dream about unicorns? I'm always dreaming about unicorns. And ice cream.”

Samora knelt down so she could look Sarah in the eye. “Do you like inventions? Fantastic machines? Unbelievable discoveries? That sort of thing?”

“I do!” Sarah answered enthusiastically.

“Then you would have liked my great-grandfather. When he was working for a blacksmith, he plunged a bar of super- heated metal into a bucket of water and watched the steam rise from the bubbling surface. It made him think about riding the steam locomotive on his journey west. He wondered, was there a way to generate an uninterrupted source of steam power? He could put the steam under pressure, hook it to a steam motor, and hook that to shafts and gears and wheels. All he needed was steam, lots and lots of steam.”

“So what'd he do?” Now it was Jonny asking the questions.

“Mfana needed a volcanic region of the country, a place where he could tap into geothermal energy. That place was Washington.

“He arrived here in 1882 and traveled all over looking for the right spot. Boomtown was perfect. It was still called Change at the time; that was when Chang was still alive. They became fast friends, and together they created the wonderful inventions you'll see here in the museum. With the money he made through their patented successes, Mfana built this house. He built his dream.”

“It's absolutely amazing!” Janice said. “We can't wait to see what he's done.”

“Then let's get started. But maybe you're cold after being outside in the snow? Maybe you'd like some hot chocolate, children? And some coffee for your mom and dad?”

Sarah grabbed Samora's hand. “What are we waiting for?”

We followed Samora from the main entrance, down the hall to the right, and into the kitchen. And what a kitchen it was! Every surface gleamed in bright stainless steel. Overhead lamps illuminated the windowless room with incandescent light. A counter with a conveyer belt wrapped around all four walls; it surrounded a large U-shaped cooking area in the middle of the room.

Just to the left of the double-swinging doors stood a con-sole with various actuator knobs, each of them labeled with the name of their corresponding function. The top row said: LIGHTS, HEAT, WASH, DRY, VACUUM, DISPOSE, LIFT. The second row (breakfast) said: TOAST, EGGS, BACON, SAUSAGE, JUICE, COFFEE, and COCOA. The third row (lunch) said: SOUP, SANDWICH, SALAD, CASSEROLE, FRUIT, LEMONADE, and TEA. The fourth row (dinner) said: STEAK, CHICKEN, FISH, BREAD, VEGETABLE, and DESSERT.