Zigzag

  I was standing in the Bolton-Packer family’s kitchen watching Savannah’s father, Roland, flip pancakes like a professional chef while her mother, Sukey, poured milk for Iris and Marshall. (They’d told us to call them by their first names right away.) Sukey was wearing a kimono with big wing sleeves that made her seem like a good fairy flapping around the room. How could I explain it all to Mom?

  “We’re at a motel in Santa Fe, New Mexico. We’re fine. We’re actually having breakfast with Savannah and her parents now—they own the motel.”

  “Savannah? Who’s that? What motel? I’m going to have to fly out there right away—you need an adult with you.”

  “No, listen to me, Mom. Savannah is a waitress at the place we ate dinner last night. She was following us down the road when the accident happened.”

  “Why was she following you?” I couldn’t tell the story fast enough. Mom was trying to read between the lines without even seeing the page.

  I sighed. “Will you calm down and let me tell you?”

  Savannah walked over and took the phone from my hand. “Let me,” she said, and then began to talk to my mother in the same rational voice she’d used yesterday to help us all out of the overturned van.

  “Hi, Ms. Daley. This is Savannah Bolton-Packer.” She related the story of who she was, how we’d met, and the rest of last night’s proceedings in an orderly fashion, and I could tell Mom must be calming down because eventually Savannah laughed at something she said. I was about to take the phone back when the good fairy grabbed it.

  “Hi. Sukey Bolton, Savannah’s mother. Don’t worry about a thing. Your children are welcome to stay here as long as they need to. I love having kids around and some of mine are already grown and gone, so this is fun. We’ll take them over to the hospital whenever they want to go. It’s not far. What a shame their vacation got interrupted like this—we’ll show them around town while they’re here.”

  Mom must have protested that they didn’t need to do that because then Sukey said, “Don’t be silly! Hanging around with kids makes me feel sixteen again! Sometimes I think I’m still a teenager, one with gray hair!”

  “You are, Mom, don’t worry,” Savannah said.

  “Besides,” Sukey continued, “I need something more interesting to do than sit behind a desk all day.”

  I already knew the Bolton-Packers did a lot more than sit at desks all day. Savannah had showed me her mother’s loom with a half-finished blanket on it. Apparently Sukey’s weaving sold in shops all over the area, as did Roland’s black, scrubbed-looking pots, which were also displayed all over the house. His studio was behind the motel, next to a barn with two horses and several goats. And, of course, they ran the motel, too, not to mention feeding stray children who showed up on their doorstep.

  I took the phone back. “Okay, do you get it now?”

  “Well, they sound a little kooky, but very nice. It was a stroke of luck that you ran into Savannah.”

  “I know.”

  “I guess you won’t get to California, though. Or Arizona either.”

  “I know.” I was trying to keep myself from thinking about it. Seeing Dad and David in Arizona was what had made me want to take this trip to begin with. I’d gotten so close—one state away—but now I wouldn’t make it. All morning I’d been fighting off that it’s not fair feeling—it never makes you feel any better, anyway. It wasn’t fair that Chris left and went to Italy. It wasn’t fair that Allen Tewksbury got hit by a taxi. It wasn’t fair that Dory ran off the road and wrecked the van and broke her bones. It wasn’t fair that Iris and Marshall were too freaked out to sleep last night. And it wasn’t fair that I wouldn’t get to go to Arizona. So what? I mean, you could look at it like, nothing’s fair. But that’s pretty depressing. So I was trying not to look at it at all.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I know you were looking forward to seeing him and meeting your brother. Do you want me to call your dad and let him know what happened? Or do you want to call?”

  “Would you call? I mean, I hate to tie up the phone here . . .” That wasn’t it, of course. I was just suddenly afraid to call. What if I could hear relief in Dad’s voice when I said I wouldn’t be showing up? Or what if it was obvious he really didn’t care one way or the other? I felt too fragile right now; I couldn’t take the chance.

  “I’ll call him this morning. When will you hear about the car?”

  “Roland is going to check about it this afternoon.”

  “Roland?”

  “Mr. Packer.”

  She sighed again. “Well, I guess there isn’t much I can do from back here. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how Dory’s doing and if the car can be fixed. If it can, I’ll have to come out and help you drive it back.”

  Even though it was great to talk to Mom and to know she was ready to come out at a moment’s notice, I didn’t really want her to come now. The thing was, with Dory I’d always felt more or less equal—like I wasn’t one of “the kids.” But if Mom showed up, she’d definitely be in charge. I’d be demoted in front of Iris and Marsh.

  They knew me now and they trusted me, as much as they trusted anybody. And after last night, I had the feeling the worst might not be over with them. I guess I wanted to be the one to help them get through it.

  Exhausted as we were last night, none of us could get to sleep. Sukey had set up a cot in our room so we could each have our own place to sleep, but the lights were barely out before Marsh was standing next to my bed asking to climb in with me. He scooted around like a puppy trying to find a comfortable position, and just when he’d settled down, Iris sat up.

  “I can’t sleep either. Is there room?”

  How could I say no? After what we’d already been through, sleeping in one bed should have been simple. Except that Iris’s ankle was sore, and my head hurt, and just when I’d finally dropped off to sleep, Marsh woke up screaming. I knew it must be because of the accident—he hadn’t awakened like that since the beginning of the trip.

  I tried to rub his back like I’d seen Dory do, but he wrenched away from me and flung himself out of the bed onto the floor, sobbing.

  Iris pulled the blanket over her face and yelled at him, “Marshall, shut up! It’s the middle of the night!”

  “That’s not going to help,” I said. “What does your mother do when he gets really upset like this?”

  She lowered the blanket a little. “I don’t know. She sings to him sometimes.”

  “What does she sing?”

  “I don’t know! Dumb songs. Why does he do this? My ankle hurts and I want to sleep!”

  “Iris, he’s your brother. He’s scared because of the accident. Don’t you get that?”

  “I get it, Robin. I just don’t want to get sucked under with him. Do you get that?” She turned her back to me.

  They kept surprising me, these little hints of Iris’s humanity. I ran my fingers through her sloppy ponytail. “I know. It’s been a horrible day. But we need to get Marsh to calm down, and you know how to do it.”

  She groaned. “I don’t know the songs. Silly stuff, like camp songs and things.”

  “Like what? You must know one or two of them.”

  Iris sighed deeply, then hoisted herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes. “My paddle’s clean and bright. Flashing with silver,” she sang tunelessly.

  I remembered it from years at Girl Scout camp and joined in. “Follow the wild goose flight. Dip, dip, and swing. Dip, dip, and swing it back, flashing with silver. Follow the wild goose flight. Dip, dip, and swing.” I sang it again, myself; it seemed like Marshall’s crying was winding down a little.

  When I stopped singing, he said, “Again.”

  “Do it with me, Iris. In a round,” I said.

  “Are you crazy? I’m tired!” she said.

  I gave her a look and began singing; she started her part when I was halfway through and we sang it three or four times. Marshall was breathing normally by then, but he was still lying on the floor.
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  “Why don’t you get back into bed?” I asked him.

  “Sing another one,” he ordered. “Sing ‘Comin’ ’Round the Mountain.’”

  Iris rolled her eyes. “Get up here on the bed first—then we’ll sing.” She was getting the idea anyway.

  Marsh climbed back up next to me, and Iris and I started in. By the time we got to verse four, “Oh, she’ll have to sleep with grandma when she comes,” he was breathing steadily. We carefully eased ourselves back down onto the bed as we came around the mountain for the last time. Marsh and Iris were both fast asleep within minutes, but I lay awake for a long time. I felt so responsible for the kids sleeping on either side of me. But I was also really glad to be in charge. I was glad Mom wasn’t coming out to help me. And I was even glad Chris wasn’t there for me to lean on and complain to. I had no choice but to do this. It was frightening, but it also made me feel strong. And, in an odd way, it even made me like them more, maybe even love them.

  “No way!” Marsh was talking through a mouth stuffed full of cinnamon pancakes. “You have five brothers?”

  Savannah nodded.

  “And no sisters?” Iris gave her a look of horror. “That’s awful!”

  “I don’t mind. We all get along.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Two older brothers live in Albuquerque, where they went to college. One goes to University of California at Berkeley—he stayed there for the summer. And the two younger ones, Tony and Cesar, who knows? They’re teenagers.”

  “Tony’s down in the barn with Ruby and Eleanor, his horses,” Sukey said. “Cesar’s sleeping late, as usual.”

  Roland sat down next to Savannah and put a lazy arm around her shoulders. “Savannah is our only daughter and she goes the farthest away from us. Now, I ask you, is that fair?” He shook his head.

  “I’ll come back when I’m done with school. Probably.” She smooched Roland’s cheek.

  “Where do you go to school?” I asked. I’d been thinking waitressing was Savannah’s occupation, but obviously it was only a summer job.

  “University of Washington in Seattle.”

  “Why did you want to go there?” I asked. All I knew about Washington was it rained a lot and they grew apples.

  “I’m studying art history,” she said. “I’m mostly interested in Indian art, or Native American art, as the college catalog says. I already knew a lot about the Indians around here and I wanted to learn more about the art of the Northwest Coast Indians. So, Seattle was a logical place to go.”

  I wondered where the logical place was for me to go. Chris thought his place was Georgetown. I’d figured on just going to the University of Iowa, but maybe a different school would be better.

  Not that I knew what I wanted to do yet, but over the past few weeks, dealing with Iris and Marshall, I’d started to think it was something I was good at. Talking to kids and helping them figure things out. Maybe it came from all those years of having Franny around, needing me. Anyway, I thought I might like learning more about psychology or sociology. At least it was a place to start.

  Sukey started cleaning up the dishes while Roland went out to the front desk to check out people who were leaving.

  “We’ll help you with the dishes,” I offered, giving Marsh and Iris looks. I was pretty sure they weren’t used to doing any housework, but they shuffled to their feet and picked up their plates, even though it was hard for Iris to do with crutches. Sukey had already made other plans for us, though. Savannah, she said, would drop us off at the hospital on her way to work. We could call the motel whenever we wanted to come back and somebody would pick us up.

  I hadn’t really gotten a good look at Santa Fe the night before. It was dark and we were all pretty crazed after the accident. Driving over to the hospital I had a chance to take it in a little better. It was beautiful even with tourists standing around everywhere. I wished we could spend the day exploring the colorful shops with their banners out front, the downtown square where the Indians laid out their jewelry on blankets.

  “I love the way this town looks!” I said. “Everything is made out of adobe.”

  “It is a special place,” Savannah said. “I don’t have to work tomorrow. I’ll take you on a tour if you want.”

  “That would be great!” I said. Iris and Marshall were quiet. “I mean, assuming Dory is okay.”

  Savannah glanced back at them. “Would you guys be interested in seeing the San Ildefonso Pueblo where my parents met? It’s not far out of town and it’s a very cool place.”

  Marshall sat up. “Yeah! Will there be real Indians there?”

  Iris gave him a disgusted look. “Who else would live in an Indian pueblo?”

  “Native Americans,” he said with a straight face. Even Iris laughed.

  Savannah let us out at the main entrance to the hospital and drove off. Just inside the front door Iris spied a rest room.

  “One minute,” she said, disappearing inside.

  “Do you need help?” I said, thinking about the crutches.

  “No, thanks.”

  Marshall and I waited outside. I wasn’t really even listening for anything—I’d kind of given that up the last few days, but I heard it, anyway. No water running or anything—if Marsh hadn’t wandered down the hall, he’d have heard it, too. Iris had decided not to hide anymore. Could the accident have had something to do with this, too?

  “Ready,” she said when she came out. I expected her to give me one of her frosty stares, but she didn’t even look at me. Her face was pale.

  I couldn’t say anything in front of Marshall, and certainly not in front of Dory, the condition she was in, so I just smiled at her. “Feel better now?”

  “Yeah,” she said quietly.

  Well, so much for psychology. I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. Anybody who would throw up the best pancakes on earth was beyond me.

  When we got to Dory’s room the doctor we’d seen the day before was just coming out. “This will get her spirits up!” she said. “Mrs. Tewksbury, your clan is here!”

  It was sort of a shock to see Dory. She was sitting up in bed, but her hair was sticking out weirdly around a bandage on her head, and one eye had turned black and blue. Her shoulder and arm were still in traction and her hospital nightgown was twisted around her like soft-serve ice cream. Basically, she looked like hell.

  Marshall didn’t care. He flung himself down onto her good side and hung on tight.

  “Be careful, Marsh,” I said. “Your mom’s kind of fragile.”

  “I’m okay,” she said, though she was obviously wincing under Marshall’s weight. He’d brought her a drawing of Sukey’s kitchen and was trying to explain it to her, but Iris interrupted.

  “Savannah sent some oranges,” she said, setting a plastic bag on the sheet by her mother’s legs, then backing off.

  “I’m so glad to see all of you. But, Iris, why are you on crutches? They didn’t tell me you were hurt!” Dory stretched her good arm out toward Iris, but Iris didn’t come any closer.

  “It’s just a sprained ankle. No big deal.”

  “She just has to stay off it for a few days,” I explained.

  “Thank God, none of you were seriously hurt. I could never have forgiven myself! I’m just so sorry about everything. I wrecked our whole trip!”

  “I don’t care,” Iris said. “I want to go home, anyway.”

  “We don’t have to go home right away, do we?” Marsh said. “I like it here. And Savannah’s going to take us to see a pueblo tomorrow. Like Acoma, only different.”

  “Is that where you’re staying? With Savannah’s family? I thought that’s what I remembered hearing last night, but I was so woozy.”

  I nodded. “Savannah’s parents are really nice. We’re staying in one of the motel rooms, but they want us to eat with them. They have a lot of kids, anyway.”

  Iris plunked herself down in a chair halfway across the room. “Hard to believe six kids could have ever lived
in that house. It’s way too small.”

  “Savannah told me Roland built it.”

  “I know. She’s so proud of them. She acts like she’s their parent.”

  “Iris,” Dory said, sounding stern for a moment. Then she changed her mind. “Come a little closer. I can hardly see you way over there.”

  “I look the same as I did yesterday.”

  But you’re acting even worse, I thought.

  Dory sighed. “Dr. Ellis says my arm has to stay in this contraption for a week, and I’ll be in a cast for three months after that. At least the concussion was mild. Robin, be sure to tell Savannah’s parents to keep track of the expenses—your food and everything—and I’ll pay them before we leave.”

  “I will,” I assured her.

  “I won’t be able to drive back to Chicago, though.”

  “If there’s even a car to drive,” Iris said.

  Dory winced. “Will you guys ever forgive me for this?”

  “It was Iris’s fault!” Marsh said. “If she hadn’t been arguing with you . . .”

  I waited for the inevitable screams of protest from Iris, but she was silent, staring at her lap. It was Dory who interrupted Marshall.

  “No! It was certainly not Iris’s fault. I was the one who took off my seat belt. I was the one who wasn’t watching the road. It was my fault, Marshall, not your sister’s.”

  “Yeah, but she was annoying you!” Marsh insisted.

  Dory gave a little laugh. “Sweetheart, if I had an accident every time Iris annoyed me, we wouldn’t have made it out of Iowa City.”

  Even Iris had to smile at that. She looked relieved, too. Then suddenly her face brightened. “Guess what?” The pot didn’t break! The jar thing from Acoma.”

  “Yeah,” Marsh chimed in. “Me and the pot were the only things that didn’t get a scratch.”

  “Wouldn’t you know? That damned pot,” Dory said. “I don’t care if I never see it again.”

  “I saved the pot,” Iris said.

  “You did?”

  “She held it between her knees,” I told Dory.

  “Why? I thought you hated it.”