Fly Away (4 page)

“Oh no,” says Frankie, sitting at the table.

“We can do that,” says Boots. “I think I may roll up the rugs tonight and carry them upstairs. Might save time if it gets rough.”

Louis nods.

“Glad you're here.”

“Louis and I moved the cows to the upper field,” says Frankie. “There's a small barn up there for shelter. There are only six of them.”

“If Boots could he'd move Becky right into the kitchen,” I say.

“Ah, Becky. She is quite spectacular,” says Louis, nodding. He says the word “spectacular” slowly.

“Spec-tac-u,” says Teddy.

Mama puts her hands over her mouth.

“No crying, Maggie,” says Boots.

“Spec-tac-u-lar,” Louis says to Teddy.

“Yay!” says Teddy, his arms in the air.

Even Louis laughs.

The
rugs are all upstairs, lying in neat rolls in the wide hallway. We have moved up some of the furniture. “You should move upstairs too,” Mama says to Frankie.

“Not until I have to,” says Frankie.

I follow Frankie as she goes to the
hallway and puts on her raincoat and hat. She smiles at me.

“If I sleep upstairs I won't be able to hear Teddy sing to you,” she whispers to me.

She sees the look on my face and puts her arm around me.

“There is a vent in the floor in your room that goes to my room. Don't worry. I can tell it is something between you and Teddy. A secret.”

She opens the door.

“Does he come to sing to you every night?”

I nod.

“And no one else?”

I nod again.

“It made me happy. It made me cry,”
she says as she goes out the door to talk to the river.

The rain goes on.

I hope Teddy comes into my room again tonight.

I hope he sings for Frankie.

Upstairs, I take out my notebook. My page is blank except for one line.

The Ring-Around Cow.

I write.

Big black night sky body.

There is a wavery moon outside my window because of the rain.

I write.

Wrapped in the moon.

I can't write anymore. But I know that this won't be a rhymed poem. That is too slim for what I want to say.

It is too slim for the cow.

Tomorrow I have to go look at the spectacular Becky. If it isn't raining. If there isn't a flood.

I go down the hallway. Mama and Boots's door is closed. Gracie is sleeping. Teddy looks at me, his eyes gleaming in the night light. I go into his room and kiss him good night.

“Teddy?”

“See.”

I smile because we have reversed the way we usually talk. Teddy smiles because he knows it too.

“I love you, Teddy.”

“Love,” says Teddy, his voice faint with sleep.

He holds my hand, and I sit on his bed for a while, until I know it is all right to take my hand away.

In my room I look out the window. In the moonlight I can see the water is slipping over the sandbags. Frankie stands there, her arms crossed. She is probably cross with her friend, the river.

When she turns and walks back to the house, she doesn't look up to my window.

In the night the rain falls harder. I hear a door open upstairs, then footsteps on the stairs going down. It is probably Boots. Then I turn over and see Teddy.

He stands in the doorway, looking at me.

“See?”

“Teddy.”

I wait, but Teddy doesn't sing. He comes over and crawls into my bed.

“Teddy? It's rain. Only rain. It's all right.”

He looks at me and waits.

And suddenly I know what he wants.

“I can't sing, Teddy. I can't,” I say. “You sing.”

Teddy puts his hand up to my mouth.

I sigh.

“What do you want?”

“ ‘Baa, Baa,' ” he says, almost in a whisper.

I hope Frankie isn't downstairs listening to my terrible singing.

Teddy waits. He puts his hand up to my mouth again.

I sing for Teddy.

I finish the song.

“One for my master, and one for my dame,

and one for the little boy who lives in the lane.”

Teddy smiles. He likes my singing. He doesn't even know I
can't
sing.

Then he turns over and looks at me.
And he sings “Baa, Baa,” so sweetly in the night that if Frankie is listening she'll weep.

When he finishes his song, he turns over again, and I know that he will sleep with me. I don't mind. I like his warm little body next to me while it is raining outside the window.

“Baa, baa, See,” Teddy says.

“Baa, baa, Teddy,” I say.

And he curls up next to me like a small dog.

The rain falls. The river rises.

But we are safe inside.

All
night long I hear different things—the hard rain and wind outside, and the soft breathing of Teddy next to me. Then, near morning, something changes. I lift my head off the pillow.

The rain has stopped.

We all wake early. It isn't light yet.
There is just a pale slice of light low above the land. Mama, Boots, and I go downstairs together. Gracie takes Teddy's hand and they walk slowly down the stairs. We hear the sound of a faraway motor.

Frankie comes out of her bedroom, braiding her long hair, her robe flapping.

“Well, let's see,” she says to us.

She opens the door.

And there is an ocean of river, as far as we can see. It is not quiet, still water. It moves fast, small boards and the tops of some trees going past and tumbling into the yard.

Beside me Mama gasps. Boots takes her hand. The river has come up the hill and swept away the porch steps. Water
sits even with the porch floor.

I understand for the first time why Mama was always scared about the river.

As we watch, the small shed at the foot of the hill moves and tips. And then it is carried away by the river. As the sun rises, the morning light shines everywhere, reflected by all the water. And then we see something else.

At the far end of the porch is Becky. She is eating flowers out of the blue painted flower box. She stops to look up at us, still chewing, then goes back to her food.

“Dutch Belted,” says Teddy behind me.

Frankie laughs at Teddy and at Becky.

“Becky, you're a clever girl. How did you get here?”

Boots goes over to rub her neck, and Becky brushes against him happily, still chewing pansies. I move closer to Becky, and she lifts her head to look at me. She stares at me, stopping her chewing, as if thinking her own thoughts.

Her eyes.

Her eyes are so big I can see my own reflection there, looking tiny next to this huge cow.

The motor noise comes closer. It is Louis, standing at the tiller of his motorboat, coming carefully closer and cutting the motor.

“Why, Louis, you look almost heroic,” says Frankie.

“You're quite a sight yourself, Frankie,” he says.

Her braids still hang down.

“Is everyone all right?” he calls. “You lost your steps.”

“We're fine,” calls Frankie. “How is it out there?”

“Bridge is closed. Moody's porch was carried away too, and part of Lester's barn.”

“Then we're better off than many,” says Frankie.

“Word is that the danger is over. No more rain in sight,” says Louis.

“Good,” says Frankie.

“And I see you've got a porch cow,” says Louis. “Floated in, did she?”

Boots laughs. “I'll get my boots and
take her down the back steps where the water isn't so high.”

“Becky almost made it to the kitchen,” says Mama, making Boots smile.

Boots gets his boots. He slips a line around Becky's neck. They start to walk down the porch. Suddenly, Becky stops and turns her head to look at me.

Those eyes.

Then she clumps off the porch, down the back steps into a foot of water. I watch Boots lead her up the hill to the barn, where the other cows wait.

“Louis,” says Teddy very clearly.

“Teddy,” says Louis.

“What can I bring you when I come for dinner?” asks Louis.

“Did I invite you?” asks Frankie.

“You meant to,” says Louis.

“We have ham and salad and beans. The stove still works—I made coffee. Milk and bread would be nice.”

Louis nods.

“Louis,” says Teddy again.

“Teddy doesn't even say ‘mama,' yet he says ‘Louis,' ” says Mama.

“That's because he and Louis are alike. Louis doesn't say much most times. Can you sing, Louis?” asks Frankie, smiling at me. I know our secret—Teddy's and Frankie's and mine—is safe. Louis pushes the boat away from the house with an oar.

He sings.

“You take the high road, and I'll take the low road,

And I'll be in Scotland before ye.”

His voice is steady and clear. He starts the motor and goes slowly off.

Frankie grins.

“He sings!”

She pins her braids neatly over her head.

“Who knew?” she says, amazed.

“Maybe you should marry him,” says Gracie.

“I don't need to marry him,” says Frankie.

She goes close to the edge of the porch and looks at the river.

“Thank you for not coming into my house, old friend,” she says loudly. “Thank you.”

Two ducks suddenly flutter into the yard, skidding to a stop in the water. They float happily.

No one speaks.

“Thank you for that, too,” she says in a soft voice.

Then, after a moment, Frankie turns and goes into the house.

We
have bacon and eggs and biscuits for breakfast.

“Bacon and ham in one day,” Frankie says to Gracie. “Not yet a vegetarian?”

“Nope,” says Gracie.

“I was once,” says Mama.

“I remember,” says Frankie. “You were lots of things.”

Mama sighs.

“I was going to be lots of things. Coming back here reminds me of all those things I meant to be.”

“And you came to Boston to go to school, and you met me and fell in love, and look at you!” says Boots.

“Look at me,” repeats Mama.

There is a small silence at the table.

“And you have Boots, and Grace, and Lucy, and Teddy,” says Frankie.

“And Langhorne Slim,” I add.

Mama gets up, taking her plate to the sink to rinse. She goes out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and out to the porch.

“Maybe I shouldn't have said that,” I say.

Boots gets up.

“No, it isn't you. Mama needs something all her own, that's all,” he says.

He goes out to where Mama is.

“Mama needs more than us,” I say.

“Not really,” says Frankie. “She just doesn't quite know what she has. She never did. She'll find that out one day. I promise.”

Frankie pours coffee and leans over close to me.

“Baa, baa, See,” she says softly.

I look quickly at her.

“You heard last night?”

Frankie nods.

“You know I can't sing then,” I say.

“That doesn't matter. What matters is that you are a spectacular sister.”

Teddy looks up.

“Spec-tac-u,” he says.

“What are you two talking about?” asks Gracie.

“Secrets,” says Frankie. “Don't you have secrets too?”

“Lots of them,” says Gracie happily.

“Lucky girl,” says Frankie. “You're spectacular too.”

“Spec-tac-u-lar!” says Teddy slowly.

He looks all around the table at us, waiting.

“Yay!” we all shout, our arms in the air. Even Frankie.

Frankie leans over to ask a question.

“Who is Langhorne Slim?”

Gracie and I laugh out loud.