I sat there until Burke Allen came walking out of the woods with Clarence sitting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” said Burke. “Hey, Louisiana. Guess what? I got the whole thing planned out. I know just where to go and what bus to get on and the whole thing.”

And just as he said that, I heard Reverend Obertask say my name.

“Louisiana,” he said.

I turned and looked behind me, and lo and behold, I saw the walrus and the Blue Fairy standing together at the top of the driveway. And even though Pinocchio does not encounter a walrus on his journey, Reverend Obertask and Betty Allen standing there together looked like something out of Pinocchio’s story come to life.

Reverend Obertask waved at me, and then he came walking down the driveway and took hold of my hand. He said, “Thank you for talking with me, Louisiana.”

I said, “You are welcome.”

And then Betty Allen said my name.

“Louisiana Elefante,” she called out, “I wonder if you would like to come and help me bake the last cake, which is a marble cake.”

“Me?” I said.

“Yes, you, honey.”

“Is a marble cake a cake with surprise marbles in it?” I said.

“There’s a recipe,” said Betty Allen. “The two of us will follow it together.”

“Why don’t you go on up there and help her?” said Reverend Obertask. “I’ll get your suitcase out of the car.”

Clarence flapped his wings and took off from Burke’s shoulder and flew away.

Reverend Obertask let go of my hand.

“Go on, Louisiana,” said Burke. “I’ll wait on you.”

The kitchen in the pink house was painted a bright yellow, and being in that room with Betty Allen was like standing inside of the sun.

“Now, what I am going to have you do is measure out the flour and the baking powder and the salt — all the dry ingredients, basically,” said Betty Allen.

I said, “I’ve never made any kind of cake before.”

“Never, ever?” said Betty Allen.

“No,” I said. “My granny does not believe in baking.”

Betty Allen put her hands on her hips. “Well, for heaven’s sake. What does she believe in?”

That was a good question.

I considered it.

“Singing,” I said finally. “She believes in me singing.”

Betty Allen nodded. “Reverend Obertask did say that you have a beautiful voice. Now, here is the flour and salt and what-have-you, and also a few bowls and measuring cups and spoons, and I will just put you to work on this counter over here.”

I measured the flour and the salt and the baking powder, and the whole time, Betty Allen was standing at the counter opposite me humming under her breath.

It was warm in the kitchen, and the yellow walls were so bright and Betty Allen’s humming was so musical that I started to think that maybe things weren’t as tragic as they seemed.

Betty Allen said, “Maybe when we have baked this cake, we will take a big old piece of it to your granny at the Good Night, Sleep Tight.”

“That is not at all necessary,” I said very, very quickly.

“Your granny doesn’t like cake?” said Betty Allen.

“Her teeth hurt too much to eat,” I said. “It is very difficult to eat cake when you are toothless. The world in general becomes a difficult place without teeth.”

“Oh,” said Betty Allen. “I see.” She went back to humming.

We put everything together into one big bowl — the wet ingredients and the dry ingredients — and mixed it all together with the electric mixer and then poured half of it into a cake pan.

“There,” said Betty Allen. “Now we will add the cocoa to the rest of the batter and swirl it all around. That’s the marbling part. Maybe you want to do that?”

She stood over me. She put her hands on my shoulders and said, “Just pour it on there and swirl.”

I poured. I swirled.

“That’s right,” said Betty Allen. “Make it as swirly as you want.”

When I was done, Betty Allen kept her hands on my shoulders, and we both stared together down at the cake. She said, “Louisiana, you can trust me. You can tell me the truth. Is your granny gone?”

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t answer her.

I also couldn’t keep myself from crying.

And once I started crying, I couldn’t stop.

I stood there in the yellow kitchen in the pink house, and I cried and cried. I cried because Granny was truly and forever gone, and somehow I knew that she was not coming back. I cried because I was alone. I cried because the curse was not my curse. I cried, and my tears of sadness and despair and hope and anger fell directly into the marble cake that had no marbles.

Betty Allen said, “We would be happy to help you try to find your granny, honey. But you can stay with us for as long as you need to. You can have a home with us, if that’s what you want.”

It was such a simple sentence.

Why did it sound so beautiful and impossible?

“Think about it,” said Betty Allen. “I know Emma Stonehill over in Family Services. I could talk to her. Reverend Obertask could talk to her, too. We could find a way to make it work, honey.”

She picked up the cake pan and turned away from me and opened the oven door. And when the marble cake was inside the oven and the door was closed, Betty Allen clapped her hands together as if she had just performed a magic trick.

“Now,” she said, “run on out there and look for Burke. I know he’s waiting on you. And, honey, we would all love to have you stay here with us and be a part of our family, but it is your decision entirely.”

It was my decision. Entirely.

I went outside, and Burke was there.

He looked at me, and, my goodness, his eyes were bright, and it occurred to me that they were probably so bright because he had never had to ask himself who he was or where he belonged or who he wanted to be. He was Burke Allen, who was the son of Burke Allen, who was the son of Burke Allen, on and on. Infinitely.

“Do you still want to go to Florida?” said Burke.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

He nodded.

He whistled for Clarence.

And then Burke said, “Come on and follow me.”