It’s Tuesday, January 2, flying time. School starts again on Thursday, and then it’ll be back to real life. Life in West Virginia with just Dad and me and our campground.
Early in the morning, Henry Jack stands at Grandma’s door, grinning, hands hidden behind his back as the sun rises behind him.
“I have a surprise,” he says. He is way too perky for this time of the day.
“What?” I ask, groggy. If you ask me, sunrise is too early for surprise. A person has to at least be able to fully open her eyes.
“Ta-da!” Henry Jack says. He holds out a tattered old red book: Manual for Mahouts: The Care and Feeding of Elephants.
“For you,” he announces.
“What?” I say. “That’s the book my grandpa gave you.”
“And now I’m giving it to you, now that you’re Queenie Grace’s mahout. Little Gray’s, too, I bet. It’ll be ‘The Amazing Queenie Grace and Little Gray and their Best Friend Lily Rose Pruitt!’ Next thing you know, Lily Pruitt will be the famous Elephant Whisperer or something. Maybe you’ll have your own circus troupe, be a girl on the high-flying trapeze, too. . . .”
“Keep dreaming big for me,” I say, “and I’ll dream big for you, too. I think you’re going to do something great in your lifetime. Something ginormous, big enough for both twins.”
Henry Jack blinks, pulling his feelings back inside. He flips his hair from his eyes. He hands me the book. The book smells like Grandpa Bill and like Henry Jack’s house, and the pages feel old and fragile. The cover is tattered at the edges, and you can tell it’s been well-loved. Well-used.
“Thanks,” I say to Henry Jack as the sky turns purple and pink behind him. “I’ll definitely keep this forever.”
My flight is at two o’clock in the afternoon, so there’s not much time left. I don’t like when minutes start to tick away and there’s nothing you can do to stop them or to slow them down.
Grandma’s still in her nightgown. Trullia, too. Nobody has brushed their hair or their teeth; nobody has eaten. It’s like we’re human-sized slugs, sprawled in the living room.
“Shouldn’t we, like, get moving?” I ask, and Grandma laughs.
“What’s so funny about that?” I respond. “Airplanes don’t wait, you know. And it’s not like I can sprout wings and fly myself home.”
“Guess what?” Grandma says. “I have a surprise.”
“Another one?” I ask. “Henry Jack already gave me the greatest.”
I’m still holding the book, sometimes sniffing it, sometimes hugging it. My fingers keep stroking the pages, rubbing the cover.
“So,” says Grandma, “are you ready for my surprise?” Her eyes shimmy with excitement.
“Yep,” I say, remembering how I used to like a life with no surprises. But that was before Gibtown, before Florida, before the elephants and my mother and Henry Jack and trapeze flying. Before Boldo the Lion and George and Faith.
“You are going to freak out,” says Trullia. She grins big with all her teeth showing.
“Soooooooooo,” Grandma says, dragging out the suspense, “Trullia and I are making some major changes. I’ve decided to retire, to stop traveling with the circus. Trullia will still perform, and teach trapeze with Faith, but when we have time to relax at home . . .”
She pauses.
“Yes . . . ?” I say. “The suspense is killing me here.”
“We’ll have a second home, and it will be near you!” Grandma says. “I’ve decided to move my home base from Gibtown to Magic Mountain. I’m renting a cabin at the campground! Your dad got me a special deal. Life is too short to be so far away from the ones you love. Queenie Grace and her baby helped to teach me that.”
“Sweet!” I say. “But . . . what about the elephants? You need to see them, too.”
“Oh, I will,” Grandma says. “That’s why we’re keeping this trailer in Gibtown. We’ll split our time fifty-fifty: Florida and West Virginia. What your mother makes teaching trapeze with Faith will easily cover the lot rent for the trailer. And we’ll all get to see one another a lot, like family is supposed to do.”
“But . . . what about me?” asks Henry Jack. He tosses back his hair. “No fair,” he says. “I always wanted to see snow, you know. Plus that blue-bottomed swimming pool at Magic Mountain, and the pirate-themed mini-golf, and the hiking trails . . .”
“Of course you’ll visit West Virginia to see us,” Grandma replies. “Don’t worry, Henry Jack, you’re like part of our family, too. We’ll make sure to see you.”
Henry Jack shrugs. I think his brow is furrowed, but you can never really tell, what with all the wrinkled skin.
“Okay,” he says. “I guess. If you promise.”
“So what do you think, Lily-Bird?” Grandma asks. “Family should be close, right?”
I nod.
“And I’ve decided to work less,” Trullia says. “See you more. That’s what’s important. Flying is exciting and being famous is nice, but it’s family that really matters. You’ll be all grown up before we know it, and I don’t want to miss so much from now on. My New Year’s resolution is to spend more time . . . more time with you. I can’t get back all that I lost, but I can start over brand-new.”
I’m sitting next to Trullia on the sofa and she reaches over. Trullia makes the first move, and we squeeze each other tight. I feel her heart beating next to mine, hear her breath in my ear.
“I love you,” Trullia says quietly. Her voice quivers; she’s nervous.
I take a breath, draw it deep and far into my body, where I always kept all the feelings inside. From now on, I’m going to let them out, set them free.
“Love you, too,” I say. The words feel good in my mouth, comfortable, as if I’ve been saying them all my life.
I’m so happy I could float away. I might not even need an airplane to get home.
“Lily Pruitt,” says my mother, “you are one amazing girl.”
“And now,” Grandma states, “it’s time for one more surprise!”
The door flies open, and Dad leaps into the room, spreading his arms wide.
“SURPRISE!” he yells.
I draw back; my eyes widen. I’m laughing and crying all at the same time.
“What—how? When—how did you get here? Why are you here?”
“He was worried sick about you having that asthma attack,” Trullia says, “plus he was dying to meet Queenie Grace’s baby. Plus, he wanted to come visit Grandpa’s grave, and to give Grandma a hug. Said he was sadder and lonelier than he imagined with you gone. And so I pitched in on his airline ticket . . . and here he is!”
“I brought Christmas to you,” Dad says. “So we’ll be here for two more days. You’ll only have to miss one day of school. Your school said it was cool because the trip is considered to be educational. And so is being with your family, both human and otherwise.”
I’m dumbfounded, in shock. I stare at Trullia.
“You . . . did this for me? For us?” I ask.
She nods, smiles.
“Thanks so much,” I say. “Thank you.”
And then I whisper one word, under my breath, just for me: “Mom.”
Her eyes fly wide; her eyebrows arch up. She says nothing, but I can tell that she heard that one word. Maybe one day, I’ll say it out loud. She’s one step closer to being a mom, a real mom like I always wanted.
“Thank you from me, too, Trullia,” Dad says. “I’m happy to be here, and I know that Bill would be proud of you.”
My parents exchange a glance, and I can actually see that maybe they really did love each other, once upon a time.
Dad looks away first and smiles at me.
“And because I brought Christmas to you, Lily, of course I had to bring this.”
Dad unzips his suitcase, reaches in. He brings out the old golden star, our special Christmas tree star, the one that Grandpa and Grandma gave us so long ago.
“Put it on the tree,” Grandma Violet says. “We need some light in this place.”
Dad arranges the star just right, on the tip of the highest branch of Grandma’s bare plastic green tree. He plugs it into an outlet on the wood-paneled wall. The star comes to life, shining a strong white light into Grandma’s little trailer.
“There,” Dad says, “it’s lighting our way through another winter, and it’ll be summer again before we know it.”