Ira had been moved back into Intensive Care for one day. It wasn’t another heart attack, the doctors said quickly, but clearly Ira had given them a scare. Within twenty-four hours he had stabilized again and was back in his old room.
He might be ready to be moved by the end of next week, the doctors said cautiously.
Harry made more phone calls to California and cancelled more appointments. Maddy talked to Joyce, Harry’s wife, for almost an hour.
That night, Asia heard the murmuring voices of Beth and Maddy and Harry in the living room as she lay on her bed upstairs, pretending to read. She thought they would never stop talking. Finally, Maddy came upstairs and sat on the bed and explained everything to her.
By the time Maddy had finished talking, a hard knot had filled Asia’s throat. “I hate Harry. And I hate Beth.”
“No,” said Maddy.
Asia focused on a spray of wallpaper roses. She kept her eyes rigidly open, forcing the tears back. “Why are you making me go with her?” she whispered.
“Because it’s the very best thing I can think of to do,” said Maddy simply.
Asia picked up her book and stared stonily at the page until Maddy left.
“Asia’s not going anywhere on a Friday,” said Maddy.
“Fridays are not safe for traveling. It’s completely out of the question.”
“How about Saturday?” said Harry. “It would be a good idea to get her down there so she has time to settle in before school starts.”
School. Asia froze outside the kitchen door. Maddy was silent. “Then that’s settled,” said Harry.
“That only gives Asia two days to get ready,” said Beth.
“Is that enough time?”
Two days. A lifetime and no time at all.
Bacon sizzled in a frying pan. Cutlery rattled. Asia knew she would throw up if she ate anything. She turned around and slipped out the back door.
Harry generated a series of lists on his laptop and taped them in strategic places in the house—lists with headings like Take to California, Put in Storage, Throw Away, Neighbors Who Might Take Livestock, Ira’s Boxes—Send Mail Orders? Gift Shop?
Maddy picked armfuls of vegetables from the garden— purple beets, huge lettuces, leafy stalks of Swiss chard and golden zucchini—and packed them in a box to fit in the trunk of Beth’s car. Cartons sprang up everywhere, slowly filling with clothes, books, shoes. By noon the heat was stifling, and Maddy made everyone take an iced tea break on the porch. Asia took hers to her room. She leaned over her windowsill and watched the gray clouds building over the mountains.
In the afternoon, Harry drove Maddy and Asia to the hospital. Maddy slipped a newspaper-wrapped bundle into Ira’s arms, and then she and Harry went to the cafeteria to give Asia and Ira some time alone. Ira presented the package solemnly to Asia. Her heart thudding, she tore the newspaper off in strips, making a sea of shredded paper on Ira’s bed. It was the cherry box with the wolf on the lid.
Asia started to cry, and Ira said, “Beth tells me you can see the Pacific Ocean right from her house if you stand on the roof!” Asia stopped crying and laughed.
“It’s the same ocean all the dang way to California,” said Ira. “Imagine that. You and Maddy and I will be looking at the same ocean. We’ll send messages back and forth in bottles.”
Asia read Ira all his get-well cards. She told him about Tasha’s puppies. Too soon, Harry’s voice sounded in the hall. He had come to pick her up. Panic rose in her chest.
Ira heard too. He leaned closer to her. “Now you remember, we’re just migrating for the winter.” He squeezed her hand. “And d’you know what’s special about migrating birds?”
Asia shook her head. The tears were pooling behind her eyes again.
“They always come back,” said Ira.
The rain started in the late afternoon, big spattery drops on the windows that quickly became a downpour and then settled into a persistent drizzle by the time they had finished eating supper. Maddy sent Asia upstairs to finish packing. She stood still for a minute, looking at the two worn stuffed rabbits on the pillow at the top of her bed. She called them Boy Rabbit and Lucky Rabbit, and they had slept beside her for as long as she could remember. Their dark button eyes looked anxious and she whispered, “Don’t worry. You’re coming too.”
She wrapped Ira’s wolf box in a sweatshirt and tucked it in the corner of her duffel bag. Then she crammed in some shirts and socks. She flopped down on her bed. She made a list in her head of all the things she wanted to take with her but couldn’t. Her bicycle, a chicken, Maddy’s sheep, the creek, her climbing tree.
She tiptoed downstairs. The house was quiet. Beth was in the living room, reading in the armchair by the window, and Harry and Maddy had disappeared. Asia grabbed her jacket and slipped outside. She stood on the porch for a few minutes, deciding what to do. The rain had stopped, and Maddy was by the garden fence, in her yellow slicker and hat, trying to prop up the last of the delphiniums. She was struggling with twine and stakes. What was the point? Why didn’t she just let them collapse? Everybody would be gone soon anyway.
Asia set off across the bridge. She trudged across the dripping meadow as far as Dandy’s grave. With everything that had happened, she had neglected it. She whispered an apology to Dandy, and then picked fresh flowers and threw the old ones over the creek bank. She glanced in the direction of the Old Farm. She had never told Maddy about the ghost, and now she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. There was no feeling today of being watched, unless you counted the small brown squirrel who chattered at her from the shelter of a fir tree.
She walked home along the creek, stepping carefully over the wet slippery rocks. Just before she got to the bridge, she spotted someone standing on a big flat boulder, tossing stones into the water. Asia stiffened. Ira! she thought. Then the person looked up and said, “Oh, hi, Asia.” It was Harry, in Ira’s old plaid coat and a floppy hat.
It was impossible to pretend she hadn’t seen him. “Hi,” she mumbled.
“I was just thinking about Terror,” said Harry. “He was an old black lab we got from the spca. He used to come down to the creek every day and dive for rocks. He’d plunge in, right underwater, and pick up a rock and bring it up on the bank. By the end of the summer, he’d have made a big pile on the shore. It sounds impossible, but he did.”
Asia could picture it easily. The wet dog, looking like a sleek black otter in the water. Dandy had loved the water too, but just to splash in on hot days. She was staring at Harry and realized he might think she was interested. She turned to leave.
“Hello!” cried Maddy. She stood on the other side of the creek, bright in her yellow slicker, smiling at them. “What are you two doing down there?”
“I was telling Asia about Terror,” Harry called back.
“Come and join us!”
Maddy walked across the bridge and down over the rocks. “Asia, help me settle on this log.”
Asia eased Maddy onto the log. Maddy gave a small wince, which she dismissed with a wave of her hand.
“Do you remember Terror?” said Harry.
“I do indeed,” said Maddy. “He was a good dog. We’ve had a lot of good dogs at Cold Creek.”
For a second, Asia felt the touch of Dandy’s cold nose on her hand. Somewhere in the grass near the bridge, a frog burst into song. She took a slow deep breath. She wondered if it were possible to absorb all the smells of Cold Creek at once: the pine trees, the wet grass, the faint scent of wild mint.
She tilted her face to the sky. It was drizzling again, and the misty rain sprinkled her cheeks with tiny pinpricks. The unfamiliar weight of something smooth and cold bumped against her neck. The silver medal that Maddy had given her last night, just before she went to bed. “It’s Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers,” Maddy had explained. Asia had pretended not to care, burying her face in her pillow until Maddy left her room.
When Maddy was safely downstairs, Asia had taken it out of its little box and examined it. She understood right away that the medal hanging from the delicate chain was powerful. It was a silver oval with an engraving in the center of a man wading across a river. The man carried a staff in one hand and a little child on his shoulders. Around the edges of the medal were the words Saint Christopher Protect Us. Asia liked feeling it on her neck. She vowed that she would never take it off.
Harry tossed a stone in the water. “I’m going to bring Joyce here one day,” he said. “She’s never seen Cold Creek.”
“Next summer,” said Maddy. “We’ll bring her next summer.”
She folded her hands neatly together. Rain dripped from the rim of her hat into her lap. “Next summer I think we’ll try turkeys. And I want Ira to build that greenhouse he’s promised me for so long. And Asia, you might want to think about trying to raise your own sheep.”
Asia didn’t say anything. Her anger at Maddy had slipped away somewhere for awhile, but that was not the same as forgiving her.
Next summer.
Maddy had promised that Saint Christopher would keep her safe.
All she had to do was hold on until next summer.