I thought it over with a big bite of potato salad. Cesar didn’t know Franny, yet, but she could have fit into that lineup, too. “I guess you’re right. I started out thinking I didn’t give a damn about my cousins—I thought they were snotty and unfeeling. But now I’ve gotten all knotted up in their dramas. It’s easy to like Marshall, but I actually like Iris too now, even though she makes me so crazy sometimes I’d like to shake her. I guess I admire the ways in which they’re both trying to be strong, even though it backfires on them half the time.”
“You’re a strong person, too—that’s why you admire it in them.”
“Me?” I laughed. “You wouldn’t think so if you’d seen me at the beginning of the summer, after Chris left for Italy. I thought I couldn’t live without him.”
“So, this summer has made you strong, too.”
Maybe Cesar was right. I still missed Chris, but not with that terrible ache. I missed him in an excited way now because I knew that when we met again we’d both have stories to tell each other, we’d both have changed.
“Will you stay together when your boyfriend goes east for college?” Cesar asked.
“That was the idea,” I said. “But I guess you never know what’s ahead of you. I’m not so worried about it now.”
He smiled. “Maybe you’ll come back to New Mexico for college.”
“Maybe. But you’ll be far away by then.”
“Maybe,” he said. We smiled at each other in the nicest way, as if we were making a promise that the future, when it arrived, would be fine.
Finally Dory was getting out of the hospital. Savannah planned to drive us down around noon to pick her up, so we spent the morning making a welcome home cake, with Sukey’s help. All the Bolton-Packers had seen Marsh’s drawings by then and flooded him with compliments, so it wasn’t hard for Sukey to talk him into decorating the top of the big flat cake. She offered him a selection of icing colors in little tubes, but left the picture itself up to him.
I think Iris was as worried as I was that he’d do something gross or gory—the upside-down van, maybe, with our bodies hanging out the windows—but since we weren’t speaking I didn’t know for sure. However, Marshall came through. His picture, only slightly squiggly due to his unfamiliarity with the use of icing as a drawing tool, was of the front of the Black Mesa Motel, the pink adobe walls with the pots of white lilies and a string of red chili peppers hanging by the front door. On one side of the building stood the cottonwood tree that shaded our room; on the other side he’d drawn in the three of us, standing in front of the horses, Eleanor and Ruby. When Sukey saw it, she ran for her camera, saying she’d never be able to eat it unless she captured the image on film. It was a masterpiece in sugar.
Roland and Cesar were blowing up balloons and Sukey was draping crepe paper from the ceiling when we left. How had it happened that after just a week with this family—a traumatic week—the Black Mesa Motel really did feel like a home to us? Even Iris liked these people—especially Tony, as it turned out. But even Roland had managed to get her laughing with him this morning when he sneaked the cake-mixing bowl out to the backyard to lick it clean before letting her wash it.
I’d been thinking about how hard it was going to be for Dory to take them home again. They were used to a crowd now—they slept with me, ate meals with Cesar and Tony, washed dishes with Sukey and Roland. Once they got on that airplane tomorrow afternoon they’d be alone with their busted-up mother who didn’t seem to know how to deal with either of them.
Mom called last night to say she’d managed to arrange everybody’s tickets so that Franny would arrive in Albuquerque (the nearest airport) an hour after the Tewksburys left. That way, Cesar, who’d offered to drive us all down, wouldn’t have to make two trips. While we were talking I suggested that she try to get some time off in a few weeks so we could drive the car back to Chicago and stay on awhile to help Dory.
“I thought of that,” she said, “but I wasn’t sure you’d be willing to spend time with your cousins again so soon.”
“Actually, I think I’ll want to check up on them by then. I mean, they’re not bad kids. They just had their lives turned upside down when Allen died.”
Mom was silent for a few seconds, then she said, “Do you know how much you’ve changed this summer?”
“Yeah, I kind of do.”
“You’re growing up, my dear. Up, up, and away.”
Dory was ready to go when we got to the hospital. “Get me out of here!” she demanded the minute we walked in the door. “I’m so sick of lying in this bed all day!” But you could tell that just getting out of bed was still painful for her. When she was settled in the wheelchair for the ride out to the car, the nurse handed her two bottles of pills.
“Don’t be a hero,” the nurse told her. “When you feel bad, you take one. For that plane ride tomorrow you should take two. Now, you’re sure somebody’s meeting you with a wheelchair when you get off the plane?”
“Yes, my friend Ellen . . .”
“And next week you have to . . .”
“I know—go see my doctor at home. Don’t worry. I’ve already called him.”
We thanked her and said good-bye, then followed the man from “transport” who wheeled Dory down the hall and outside. Iris carried the droopy flowers and Marsh the half-eaten box of chocolates while I took the bag of clothes she’d had on during the accident—or what was left of them.
Cesar had pulled the station wagon up in front of the door so Dory could slide right from the wheelchair into the front seat. The three of us climbed in back; it must have been obvious to Marsh that it was up to him to separate Iris and me because he took the middle seat without complaint.
Dory was so happy to be outside again—she was in a good mood, pain or no pain. And it must have infected the rest of us too because there were no battles on the drive back to the Black Mesa. Dory thanked Cesar about a thousand times, a sentiment she would repeat again and again to every person in the Bolton-Packer family until the moment she left. Since he knew she hadn’t gotten to see much of Santa Fe, Cesar drove back through downtown, the scenic route, and pointed out to her various points of interest.
“Well, I’ll have to come back sometime,” she said, watching the stores and hotels stream by her window. “It’s a beautiful town. I’m glad you guys got to see some of it this week. Thank you so much, Cesar!”
“Believe me, we all enjoyed it,” Cesar said. “It’s like having more brothers and sisters.”
“Just what you need!” Iris said, but there was a laugh in her voice.
The welcome home cake was a big hit, of course. Dory was astounded that Marsh had done the decorating. We all ate chicken hot dogs for lunch and then big pieces of the cake, which was unanimously pronounced delicious. Marsh and Iris fought over the part with the horses, of course, but Sukey found a way to slice the cake so they could each have one. We were becoming almost raucous—even the normally silent Tony was talking—when we all realized at the same time that Dory had become ominously quiet. Her unbroken arm was propped on the table, holding up her head, and her mouth was clenched in a tight line.
Our good moods all wore off along with Dory’s pain pills. She was very tired, she said, and handed out one more round of thank you’s as Sukey gave us the key to room number 6, which adjoined ours and which would be Dory’s for her last day in New Mexico. Marsh had decided that he’d stay on the fold-out bed in our room for one more night. Even though he’d been free of nightmares for several nights in a row, he didn’t want to take the chance of waking his mother. I guess Dory was too exhausted to realize what a sacrifice this was for him—he’d missed her terribly, especially just before he went to bed, and if he did have a nightmare, Iris and I were poor substitutes for his mother. Anyway, she didn’t thank him, and I could tell Marsh was hurt not to be getting credit for his brave decision. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up sign, but maybe he wasn’t sure anymore, since my feud with Iris, if he should accept my smil
es, so he just turned away, pretending he didn’t see me.
Dory took a long nap that afternoon. Iris went down to the barn with Tony and Marsh hung around outside, drawing, while I helped Sukey clean up the mess we’d made in the kitchen. We’d all just congregated back in our room when Dory woke up, cranky, and called us in to her bedside.
“Hand me my sweater, would you, Robin? And Iris, get me a glass of water.”
I fetched the sweater, and Iris went to get the water, but not with a generous heart. She thrust the glass under her mother’s nose.
“Just hold it a minute, will you? I have to get a pill. Marsh, hand me the bottle on the dresser,” she ordered.
“Is this what it’s going to be like at home?” Iris said. “You ordering us around like we’re your servants?”
Dory took the pill bottle from Marsh and glared at her daughter. “I will need your help, if that’s what you mean. Yes. Did you think I was going to be good as new the minute I got out of the hospital?”
“No, but I didn’t think you’d be so crabby.”
“Well, welcome to the new me, Iris.” She slugged the pill down with half a glass of water, then shook her head and handed the glass back to her daughter. “Ugh, I hate these things.”
“Does your arm hurt?” Marsh asked her.
Dory thought for a minute, then said, “Yes, it does, Marshall. And my ribs hurt and my head hurts. And my brain hurts, too, when I think about how I have to pull this family back together. Tomorrow at this time we’ll be on our way home, and I’m scared to death of all I’ll have to deal with when we get there.”
“Why are you telling us?” Iris asked, although her tone was much more subdued now.
“Because this is the way it’s going to be from now on. I’ve given it a lot of thought the past few days. I’ve been treating you both as if you were breakable, and you’ve started to believe it yourselves. So now we’re trying something different. You’re both old enough to take some responsibility. I can’t do it all by myself—you have to help me and help each other, too.”
“Like what? I have to change Marshall’s diapers or something?” Iris never knew when to keep her mouth shut.
Marsh, who was already a little freaked out by his mother’s new attitude, exploded and ran at Iris with his fists up. “I do not wear diapers, you moron!”
“THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN!” None of us had ever heard Dory speak so loudly, so angrily, before. Both kids stopped and stared at her.
“I’ve had it with the bickering and the battering that goes on between you two. There won’t be any more of it. Do you understand me? Do you?” Both heads nodded.
“There’s going to be one unbreakable rule from now on: No More Secrets. If you’re angry or scared or sad or upset in any way, you’ll talk about it. You’ll tell me and you’ll tell your sibling. And you’ll tell your therapist, too. Same goes for me. From now on, when we feel lousy, we aren’t going to hide out or slug people or throw up our dinner, or run off the road. We’re going to talk to one another about what’s going on in our heads and our hearts. We’re going to get through this together.”
I could tell Marsh was on the verge of collapse, his mouth turning down, his chin caving in. I was about to try my luck putting an arm around him when he suddenly ran to his mother’s side and buried his face in her neck. She winced at the pain, but took her good arm and gathered him in.
“I hate to yell at you guys. You know that. But things have to change.” She looked into Iris’s eyes. “Your father is gone, but we’re not. We have to start thinking about how we want to live the rest of our lives, not just survive them. Will you help me, please?”
Tears spilled down Iris’s cheeks onto her pink T-shirt. I figured she hated for me to see her like this, so I quietly backed away into our room, leaving the family alone. I closed the door behind me, but not before I heard Iris say, “Mommy, I’m sorry.”
After that, the evening passed quietly. But it wasn’t like we weren’t speaking to one another—it was more like we were waiting for a little time to pass and trying to figure out a new way of talking. We all said good night to one another like normal people might.
In the morning Roland drove Dory and me to the repair shop. The part had finally come in for the minivan and the work was supposed to be finished on it by tomorrow, so Dory had to flash her credit card one more time and tell the manager I ‘d be picking up the car. It was strange to see it again. Even though the bodywork had already been done, we couldn’t look at it without feeling a little sick.
Dory shook her head. “I hope I can bear to drive it again.” She looked at me. “Oh, dear, Robin, can you drive it?”
I nodded. “I think I’m like that vase you bought. If I didn’t break so far, I can probably make it the rest of the way.”
The kids had packed their suitcases right after breakfast so they’d have time for a last drive through Santa Fe with Savannah. When we got back from the repair shop, I helped Dory pack, then we sat outside under the cottonwood tree to wait. In a minute Sukey came out with a plastic bag in her hand.
“I made you some sandwiches,” she said. “And wrapped up some pieces of your cake, too. Airplane food is so awful.”
“Oh, Sukey,” Dory said, tearing up. “No, you’ve done so much for us already!”
Sukey waved away her protest. “I meant it when I said I loved having the kids here—they’re terrific. You know, people stop through here for a night or two, but they don’t become family. You guys are family now.” She saw Dory blinking back tears. “And don’t you dare go telling me thank you again. You thanked me enough already to last my lifetime!”
She turned to me. “Cesar says you’re thinking of coming back out here for college.”
“Are you really?” Dory said.
“I might.”
“Well, you better come by and say hello if you relocate out here. I’ll make you a cake and decorate it myself!”
“This will be the first place I come,” I assured her.
Savannah’s car pulled up in front and Iris and Marshall jumped out, beaming. It had been awhile since I’d seen them both happy at the same time.
They ran over and stood right in front of me, with slightly embarrassed looks on their faces. Iris said, “Marsh had this idea . . .”
“You thought it was a good idea, too!” he interrupted.
She tipped her head in reluctant agreement. “Anyway, we decided to get you something so you wouldn’t forget us.” She looked at Marshall and he took a small box from the pocket of his droopy pants.
“Since you never buy stuff for yourself,” he said, handing it to me.
I was so surprised I could hardly speak. “Wow. You guys . . . gee . . .” I stared at the box as if I’d never seen one before.
“Open it,” Iris commanded.
So I did. In the box lay the turquoise ring that reminded me of the sun, which I’d admired last week on the Santa Fe Plaza.
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe it! I never expected . . .”
“Put it on!” Marsh said.
It was beautiful. Sukey and Dory admired it as it sparkled on my finger.
“We bought it with our own money,” Marshall said. Iris rolled her eyes, but she didn’t poke him or call him a moron. I looked up at them and saw how pleased they were to surprise me with something they knew I wanted. What else could I do but hug them?
“Thank you, Marshall,” I said, grabbing him first because he was the easiest. He hugged me right back. “This is a wonderful gift. But you know I would never forget you anyway!”
“Yeah, I know. I’m unforgettable.”
“Iris,” I said, then looked at her for a full second before putting my arms around her. I knew she’d resist me, and she did, but not with every muscle and bone in her body. I was willing to settle for this small miracle.
“I guess you’ll never forget me either,” she said in her usual ironic tone of voice.
“I’ll try, though,” I said, whi
ch made her laugh. “Thank you for the ring. You know I love it.”
Then I remembered that I had gifts for them, too. “Wait here a minute,” I said, and ran into our room, trying to remember what I’d done with the clay horses from Acoma. My backpack. I hoped they hadn’t broken.
All three were fine. I decided quickly that the darkest horse—nearest in color to Okie—was for Marsh. And the white one, of course, was Silverfoot, so that was Iris’s. I’d keep the reddish one.
“Presents for you, too!” I said, handing one to each of them. “So you don’t forget your wild west summer.”
“These are from the pueblo at Acoma,” Marsh said. “I saw them there. I can’t believe you bought us presents—you never buy anything!” He looked so shocked, I had to laugh.
Iris nudged him gently in the ribs. “Just say ‘thank you,’ Marshall.”
He glared at her. “I didn’t hear you say it yet.”
Iris gave me a lopsided smile and kept her eyes on her horse. “Thanks. This is really nice.” From Iris that was quite a speech.
“Yeah, thanks,” Marsh said. “You know we’ll never forget you!”
Savannah had to leave for work so the first round of good-byes began, and then we packed the suitcases into the station wagon. The defective tent, all the sleeping bags, and a variety of souvenirs (including the unbreakable vase) would make the trip back to the Midwest with me in the car. Roland and Sukey and Tony all gathered around to say good-bye to the Tewksburys. Iris and Tony even sneaked off around the corner for a private farewell. Or maybe just to talk about horses one more time.
And then we were off for the airport. It went very quickly once we got there—check the bags, stamp the tickets, call for a wheelchair to get Dory down the long hallway to the gate. We had to tell them good-bye at the checkpoint before the gates. Iris and Marsh had done enough hugging—they were eager to get going, but Dory gave me a long one-armed squeeze and, of course, a thank-you.