Sisters in the Wind(100)
Lily. But also something beyond who she was. Lily-bah.
There are so many things he wants to say. Again words fail him. He reaches tentatively toward her face. She closes her eyes but remains in place. He gently brushes the black hair from her forehead. At his feathery touch, she opens her eyes. Her obsidian lips break into a smile. Peace envelops him. He senses others beyond her.
They’re waiting for him to come home. Where he is loved.
He leaps into a sky of cornflower blue. His raven wings glide upon air currents. He feels such weightlessness and contentment, along with infinite energy. As if he could soar forever.
And so he does.
EPILOGUE
SEPTEMBER 2009
I shut the car off while we wait in line for the next ferry to Sugar Island. The last thing I want is to be late to my own party. I glance at the scratched Seiko watch out of habit. No longer reliable, it’s the equivalent of a security blanket for my wrist. A memento I cannot part with.
Luke fusses in his car seat. My son is a good traveler so long as the car is in motion. At eighteen months old, he’s figured out that silence and stillness mean we’ve arrived and it’s time to be freed from the car seat.
I was able to petition the court for my parental rights to be reinstated. Legal processes meant to safeguard my rights had not been followed by the private adoption agency. The paperwork I signed had been swapped with forged documents naming Mr. and Mrs. Sterling as the adoptive parents I chose for my child.
The reinstatement should be finalized by the end of the year. Then I will be the legal parent of Luke Jameson Diaz-Smith.
Mrs. Sterling, Mister, and Missus died in the barn fire. Mrs. Sterling was found beneath a collapsed wall. The Hoppys were in the loft. They died from smoke inhalation. From having been drugged, most likely. The Sterlings, or perhaps just Mr. Sterling, may have killed Mister and Missus, but there’s plenty to uncover, beyond the secret journal Mrs. Hoppy kept.
A federal investigation of the adoption ring is underway. They’re also looking into the number of teens in foster care who went missing after being placed at Hoppy Farm. Both of my social workers are being investigated for any involvement in the adoption schemes. Debbie Strong was a more recent hire, and there was no mention of her in the journal. Mrs. Clark was named. Supposedly she’s trying to strike a deal to cooperate in exchange for immunity.
Hoppy Farm is no longer a centennial farm. Operations ceased once it was named a crime scene as part of the ongoing investigation. Allen, Jennifer, and Bruce Hoppy are cooperating and are not considered suspects.
Jennifer, Allen, and Baby Allen moved to Alpena. They talk about buying a small farm, something manageable, with an apple orchard and a garden. For now, they’re working on a friend’s farm. Although not considered suspects, they’re in limbo waiting for developments in the investigation, which has only just begun. They can’t leave the state in the meantime.
Bruce is also in Alpena. He’s working a construction job and has Sunday dinners with his brother’s family. He doesn’t want to talk about the girl we both loved. I’ve offered—a standing offer if he ever changes his mind.
Emily called recently. She and Leaf ran into Lexi and Otto at a farmers’ market in Bay City. They talked about inviting Bruce for a Sunday matinee. I hope it happens.
Jasmine and Joy were placed into different group homes. Joy aged out of foster care and moved to Grand Rapids to be near her girlfriend.
Daunis’s tenacious investigation of the diner bombing continued after Jamie died. Her research led the state police to obtain a confession from Max Roberts. He had accepted a cash payment from Mr. Sterling to place a package near my locker. Max hadn’t known what was in the package. He accepted the money, intending for it to go toward a down payment on a house, but after the bombing, he’d been too scared to do anything with it. The cash was still in a shoebox in his closet. Harley hadn’t known anything about it.
Devery’s whereabouts on the night Steven Sterling died could not be corroborated. I wasn’t sure what Devery tried to tell me about Bridget. I learned my former stepmother had married an auto executive and lived in Grosse Point. Although she had inherited my dad’s life insurance and the cottage in Harbor Springs, she was unable to access my MET account.
Devery never regained consciousness when she collapsed outside the barn after saving Luke. I guess her lungs never recovered from the fire at Miss Lonnie’s. She indicated on her driver’s license that she wanted to be an organ donor. Whatever balance sheet she hoped to justify, I’m forever grateful for her final good deeds.
I’ll be interviewed by the investigators at some point. All the former foster kids will be. What I know for sure is that investigations take a long time. But I won’t put my life on hold.
I have a son to raise.
“Hold on, Luke,” I say, rolling down the windows for fresh air.
It’s a sunny September day. Warmer than usual in the Upper Peninsula. T-shirt weather. I take off the sweatshirt that was perfect this morning when we left Charlevoix.
Sitting beside him, Misho Abe holds out a toy. Luke continues to fuss until the old man takes out his dentures and gums a smile that my son and I find hilarious.
“He’s laughing ’cause he’s got more teeth than me,” Misho Abe says.
“He’s got more hair than you too,” Miss Lonnie chimes from the passenger seat.