Part 12 (2/2)
”For twenty years been hankering for a son.” The warden smiles, his chest full, his blue eyes bright with possibility. Then he seems to realize I am still here.
”Go on, get out of here, Mr. Flanagan,” the warden tells me, and I begin to walk away but then I hear Trixle.
”It ain't Moose I worry about. It's his sister.”
”She's not even on the island now, right?” the warden asks.
”Yeah, but she's comin' back, ain't that right, Moose?” Trixle raises his voice so I can hear. He knows I'm listening to this.
I turn around. ”Yes, sir, but we keep a close eye on her. She's never been in any trouble, sir,” I tell him.
Trixle snorts. ”She's a loose cannon. It's a cryin' shame it is. Lettin' normal kids mix it up with buggy ones,” Darby tells the warden. ”Don't know what some people is thinking.”
”Natalie's not buggy, she just thinks a different way.” The words shoot out of me before I can stop them. I know my dad would not like me talking to the warden and Trixle like this.
”Is that so?” Trixle asks.
”Yes, sir.” I nod to the warden. ”It is.”
When I get back to Annie and Theresa they're staring at me, their eyes squinting, their mouths half open. They have clearly been discussing me in my absence.
”We can't take these,” Annie says, the wind whipping her hair, the rose held tightly against her chest.
”They're for Piper,” Theresa scolds, leaning close so I can hear her over the wind and the rumbling motor.
”Course you can. I always meant to give them to you. I just wanted to surprise you,” I tell them.
”Surprise us?” Annie c.o.c.ks her head.
Theresa squints at me. She clearly doesn't believe this.
”No, really,” I say, steadying myself on the boat railing.
Annie looks at the rose, holds it delicately with her hand. A smile forms on her big square lips as she smells it. ”Are you sure?” she asks without looking at me.
”Sure I'm sure,” I say.
”But what about Piper?” Theresa insists.
”I don't want to give Piper flowers.”
Annie watches me from behind the rose. ”That's not what you said,” she says.
”Like I said, I wanted to surprise you.”
Annie's pale cheeks are flushed. She lets her finger b.u.mp on the smooth part of the stem. She holds it safe from the wind.
”But, Moose.” Theresa jabs her elbow in my side. ”Mae said your name.”
”She couldn't have,” I tell them.
”She did though. I heard it with my own ears.” Theresa touches one of her ears as if to prove her point.
”I don't know, Theresa,” I murmur with one eye on Annie. I can't tell if Annie's listening or not.
”You don't know?” Theresa's eyes are white all around. ”I have to put it in my book, Moose. This is a very strange occurrence,” she informs me.
I wish she wouldn't. But then most of what she writes is made up anyway. No one will think it's actually true.
In the visitors' section I see Mae Capone holding her yellow rose across her lap. Doc Ollie's old sister with her practical shoes has placed the rose behind her ear, like she's become a flamenco dancer. And there's Bea Trixle talking to Mrs. Caconi, holding the rose as if it is made of gla.s.s.
It's amazing the power of a few stupid flowers. Simply amazing.
PINEAPPLE UPSIDE-DOWN CAKE.
Same day-Sunday, August 18, 1935
Why, thank you Moose. The lilting sound of Mae's voice is spinning around like a gramophone inside my head. And now Darby Trixle is heading back to us. Won't he ever leave me alone? The lilting sound of Mae's voice is spinning around like a gramophone inside my head. And now Darby Trixle is heading back to us. Won't he ever leave me alone?
”What you kids doin' on this run anyway?” Darby asks.
”We went to visit my sister,” I tell him.
Trixle's chiseled face sets. His eyes narrow. ”That it, is it? Wasn't nothin' to do with Mae Capone bein' here? The warden thinks this ain't no coincidence.”
My forehead begins to sweat when I hear this. Big beads drip down.
”We didn't know she was going to be here, sir,” Annie offers.
”We just got lucky,” Theresa adds.
Darby glares at her. Theresa darts behind Annie.
”And what about you, Mr. Ladies' Man?” He squints at me, catching himself as the boat dips in the wake of another ferry. ”Just went to visit your sister, did you?”
”Yes, sir,” I say.
Tsk, tsk, Darby clucks. ”How's she doin' at that place?” Darby clucks. ”How's she doin' at that place?”
”Fine, sir.”
”But it ain't permanent, then, this . . . what you call it now?”
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