The train Ivy rode on rattled steadily down the track.

“Where do you think she is?” Ivy bounced the postcard from her mother on her palm. It had arrived in Beryl’s mailbox a few days before, right at the end of September. There was a picture of Niagara Falls on the front. It’s a lot of water, her mom had written. Wouldn’t want to go over it in a barrel. How’d that contest go?

Grammy shook her head. “Maybe Detroit, like she told you.”

Ivy peered at the postmark, but she already knew it was smudged and impossible to read. She tucked the card back into her sketchbook and looked out the window.

They were headed for the city. Grammy was taking her to a weekend filmmaking workshop for kids at the New York Public Library, and it was just the two of them. Prairie had gone to the creamery with the 4-H club.

“I hope she’s okay,” Ivy said when the train passed Sing Sing prison, out on its rock in the Hudson River.

Grammy cleared her throat like she had a frog in it. Then she said, “Well, me too. Of course I do,” She squeezed Ivy’s hand.

A few more miles went by. A ray of sunlight fell in Ivy’s eyes and she squinted. She smiled, her hand still held lightly in Grammy’s.

It was strange to think how scared she’d been about the Everses knowing the bad things about her life with her mom. She’d been so angry at them, and so sure she had to hide the truth. She felt differently now. Something about making the movie, not giving up even when it seemed hopeless and dumb, and asking everyone to help—had changed her. That hole inside herself felt mended enough that she could see: the Everses hadn’t looked down on her and pitied her. They’d only wanted to be part of her life, and to help.

“You’ll hear from your mom again,” Grammy said. “I really think you will. And who knows, maybe someday she’ll get her act together. It is possible. She’s not all bad, she couldn’t be or there wouldn’t be you, hanging around plaguing us with your interesting ideas and your movie projects and your flat-out blind determination to get the things done that you want to do.” She poked Ivy’s ribs in exactly the same way Prairie would’ve and Ivy giggled.

Grammy took her hand again and squeezed it, and Ivy went back to looking out the window. She might hear from her mom again, like Grammy said. Her mom might get her act more together. Right now though Ivy had something else to think about: this moment, this train ride, which was the best part of her day so far. She drew her braid over her shoulder and tugged at it and went back to her work, looking out at the world and taking it in.