Hope Girl (13 page)

“Shhh,” I whisper, “it's okay. I won't hurt you. Please don't bark.”

The dog barks for what seems like forever, when a man (who I figure is Michael), opens a sliding glass door and yells, “Wilson, get in here. Come on, boy!” Wilson keeps barking. “Wilson, get over here.” Wilson doesn't budge an inch from the base of the tree and barks even louder.

Finally Michael walks outside to Wilson. “What are you barking at, boy?”

I'm so scared I can't move.

Michael's standing by the ladder, rubbing Wilson's back. “Did you chase a squirrel up there?” Michael climbs up and pokes his head in. Our eyes lock. At first we freeze, then he screams, which makes me scream.

Once we stop screaming and I catch my breath, I try explaining, “I'm sorry! It's just me, River, the one who was stolen.”

“Wow!” he says. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

“I'm sorry.” I take a deep breath, hoping it'll stop my shaking.

“Why are you hiding in our tree fort?”

“Because I didn't want to wake anyone. I just want to meet my mom.”

Michael takes my hand. “Let's get down and go inside.”

I climb down after him. Wilson greets me, wagging his tail. I follow Michael through the sliding glass door and into the kitchen. Just then a woman calls from upstairs, “Everything all right, Michael?”

He looks at me and puts his finger to his lips. “Everything's fine, Margaret. Go back to sleep. I'll be up in a minute.”

He leans in close and whispers, “I think it's best we wait till morning.”

I nod even though I want to run upstairs and see her now.

“Follow me,” he says. “You can stay in the guest room.” I follow him through the living room and into a small, separate hallway to the guest room. It's beautiful. Everything's flowery. It even has its own bathroom. “Listen,” he says, “I need to get back upstairs before Margaret realizes something's going on. I'm sure you're exhausted, so let's get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“But don't come out of the room in the morning until you hear from me. I need to talk with Margaret first.” He walks out and quietly closes the door.

He's so concerned about my mom that he didn't mention a word about calling my dad. So far everything's working out.

17

A Pleasure to Meet You

I
wake to the sound of voices. I hear Michael and my mom and also two kids, maybe a boy and a girl. They're eating breakfast—I smell coffee and hear the toaster pop up.

When they finish, Michael sends the kids outside to play and asks my mom to come to the living room with him. “Margaret,” he says, “remember how I told you that your former husband found your daughter, River?”

“Oh, Michael,” she says, “do we need to get into that again? You know how much it bothers me. I don't remember them.”

“But you realize there's a six-year period of your life that you've forgotten.”

“Honestly, Michael, that's what I'm told. But sometimes I don't know what to believe.”

“I would never lie to you, Margaret. I'm asking that you trust me. Will you do that?”

“I'll try. What's going on?”

“This will come as a shock,” he says, “but River came here last night. That's why Wilson was barking.”

There's silence.

Michael says, “She wants to meet you, Margaret. She's waited her entire life, and she finally found you.”

“This is overwhelming,” she says. Then there's more silence. “When does she want to meet me?”

“She's here. In the guest room.”

“What? Michael!”

“I know it's not what you expected this morning.”

“And just what am I supposed to say to her?”

“I don't know. Let's see how it goes.”

In a few seconds, Michael knocks on the door. “River? May I come in?” I open the door. “Come with me,” he says. “You can meet her now, but you need to realize she doesn't know who you are. This will likely be very painful for you—I'm sure it won't be the reunion you've been dreaming of.”

“I understand.” But part of me is realizing that maybe I don't.

I follow Michael to the living room, where my mother sits on the couch smiling and looking awkward. I walk over and stand in front of her. “Hi, Mom. I know you don't know who I am, and I know you don't remember anything about me, but I'm River, your daughter. And I'm very pleased to meet you.”

She smiles and takes my hand. “Well, River,” she says, “You are quite a beautiful young lady, and it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” She pats the couch next to her. “Please, sit down.” She looks at me like she's trying so hard to remember. “Tell me about yourself, River.”

“Well, I'm almost thirteen. And I just recently met my dad, Jay Whippoorwill, the man you were married to. That's how I found out where you live.”

All of a sudden, Michael jumps off the chair and shouts, “Does Jay know you're here?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly, but it's still early, so he probably doesn't realize I'm gone. I made my bed look like I'm sleeping in it.”

My mom laughs.

“River,” he says, “I'd like you to call him now.”

“Oh, Michael,” says my mom, “let's visit first, then she'll call.” I knew I'd like her. She's peaceful and kind. And Dad was right—she has curly brown hair like me. Then she continues, “So if you've recently met your dad, who raised you over the years?”

“A lady I've called Gram since I was eighteen months old.” Then I
explain, “She's actually the mother of the woman who stole me. But Gram never knew I was stolen until I met Dad. That's because when her daughter and son-in-law stole me, they told Gram they adopted me. Then after six months, they got tired of me and took off. That's when Gram took me in.”

Mom's crying now. “You poor dear.”

I reach for my necklace and show her the heart charm. “It has my name and birthdate on it, the only information I've had. I was wearing it when I was stolen.”

Mom reaches for it and rubs her fingers over it. “It's precious.”

“I brought a picture too.” I hurry to the bedroom and pull it from my bag. When I show her, she strokes her hand across the glass, then leans to hug me.

“I want to remember so badly.” She reaches for my cheek to wipe a tear.

“Well,” says Michael, standing up, “I think it's time you called your father.”

I was wrong. Dad didn't think I was sleeping. When he came back from the Whippoorwills' last night, he tried waking me up. He wanted to talk about what happened earlier at his studio. When I didn't answer him, he tried shaking me and discovered the blankets. So by the sounds of it, I'm probably in trouble. He even called the sheriff's office and organized a search party.

While Dad comes to get me, I meet my half brother and sister, Benjamin and Olivia (that's their fancy names). Their nicknames are Bennie and Livvy. They're seven and nine. They help make my breakfast.

After I eat, we make chocolate-chip cookies to pass the time. Bennie and Livvy both want to be near me, so I sit between them at the table. I help Bennie measure flour and sugar and help Livvy
crack the eggs. Each time I look at my mom, I catch her staring at me. It's almost as if she's searching through her box of memories, hoping to find at least one that has to do with me.

When the last tray of cookies is finished, Michael looks out the window. “Jay's here.”

I run to the door, and he wraps his arms around me. “Thank God you're all right, River. I've been so worried.”

“I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have made you worry. I just wanted to meet Mom, and it seemed like you weren't helping.”

He keeps his arms around me. “I'm so sorry, River.”

I pull back and look up. “Dad, even though she doesn't remember, I think she really likes me.”

Michael invites him in, and my mom comes from the kitchen. She looks at Dad, stares for a minute, and then says, “Yes, please come in and sit down. We just made cookies. So before you leave, you'll need to try them. I'll get you some milk too.”

Dad sits at the table while Mom brings him a plate of cookies. Then she pours him a glass of milk. But when she sets it down, she picks it right back up. “Oh, I'm sorry, Jay, you prefer your milk in a mug, not a glass… better for dunking cookies. I'll switch it.”

She and Dad freeze, staring at each other. She covers her mouth. “How did I know that?”

Dad's face turns pink. “You must have remembered.”

While Dad says goodbye to Mom and Michael, I go to the guest room for my bag. I leave my heart necklace and picture on the nightstand—it will help her remember.

When Dad and I get back to the Whippoorwills', Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle Henry, and all the little Whippoorwills greet me with enough hugs to last forever.

Forrest jumps up and down. “Riber not lost! Need to celabate!”

“Forrest is right,” says Aunt Elizabeth, “Let's celebrate. I'll whip up a pot of sloppy joes, and we'll share a meal together.”

Rosa kisses me on my cheek. “I'm glad you're safe, River.” She rubs my head. “Carlos looked for you too.” She turns to him, who I didn't see on the other side of the room, and says, “Carlos, come on over. I'd like you to finally meet River.”

He's wearing jeans, a long sleeve T-shirt, and a baseball cap. He walks across the room slow and awkward, like his legs are stiff or something. He's taller than Rosa and doesn't look anything like her. To be honest, with all his scars, it's probably not possible he could look like anyone human.

He smiles and reaches out his hand. “Hi, I'm Carlos.”

I take his hand, which has bent fingers and blotchy patches of skin. It feels smooth, soft, and bumpy all at the same time. “Hi, Carlos,” I say, trying not to stare. “I'm River. Thanks for looking for me.”

He smiles. “Glad I could help.”