Sisters in the Wind(74)

I went to the flawed silver maple, whose leaves would turn yellow soon. Beneath the tree, I wondered about the strange and tender fullness of my breasts. It had been over two weeks since Boyd had died.

In English literature, it was called a fortnight. My dad had told me it meant fourteen nights because that was how they tracked time. A lunar cycle—full moon to full moon—was twenty-eight days, so a fortnight was half a lunar cycle.

My period had been a fortnight late the night I learned that Diego was dead. I was pregnant. Diego was dead. If I’d let Boyd kill me, there would have been nothing left in the universe of either Diego or me. Or my dad. Or any of the people we came from. It seemed a heavy responsibility that was all mine to bear.

And I didn’t want to die.

Bruce’s car pulled into the long driveway. He wasn’t alone. We’d been hearing about a girlfriend, but he hadn’t brought her around yet. It would be dinner soon, so I made my way from the hammock grove to the farmhouse.

Bruce waved as I approached. He went around to the passenger side and opened the door for his girlfriend. I liked seeing him be a gentleman. I tried to imagine the type of girl who would go for Bruce Hoppy. He was short and stocky, but not unattractive. Good manners went a long way. He just wasn’t very talkative, except about statistics.

The girl was short also. Her hair was in a high ponytail that looked like the top of a pineapple. I thought it was mousy brown hair until the sunlight turned it into a fiery red torch.

“Hey, Lucy. This is my girlfriend, Elizabeth.”

She turned around and smiled brightly.

“Call me Beth,” her husky voice cooed.

Bruce ran off without explanation. We watched him pick a black-eyed Susan from the flower garden. He took his time walking back, carefully holding the flower like a precious gift.

Plenty of time for his girlfriend to speak to me.

“Oh, Clancy,” Devery said, relishing my shock, “the look on your face.”





PART FOUR





The final phase of fire growth is the decay stage. This is often the longest stage of a fire, as the flames decrease in size and the heat of the fire begins to drop … A wildfire that is decreasing in size and running out of combustible materials is in the decay stage, but the fire can still be dangerous. A fire can restart if there is still fuel to burn and if winds pick up to add more oxygen to the fire.

—Western Fire Chiefs Association: The Four Stages of Fire Growth Explained





WHEN I WAS SEVENTEEN


2007

I had made a wish on my sixteenth birthday for Devery to be at Hoppy Farm with me. A little over a year later, my wish came true. Clancy and Devery together again. I hugged her so tightly.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” I cried.

“Northern Michigan is a small world, Clancy. We were bound to cross paths again.”

By then, Bruce had made his way back to us. He held out the yellow flower to his girlfriend, who placed it behind her ear. She moved her head back and forth to model for us.

“The black part matches your eyes,” Bruce said.

Devery laughed. “My eyes are green.”

“The black gunk in the corners,” he clarified.

I liked Bruce’s forthrightness. There was something oddly comforting in his lack of social manners. I only hoped his girlfriend liked that aspect about him as well.

“Thanks, boo. Don’t want eye boogers when I meet your parents.” She wiped her inner eyes with a finger before turning to Bruce. “Anything else?” She motioned an O with her mouth and tilted her head back to give him full view inside her nostrils.

“All clean,” he said.

I laughed. Devery and Bruce actually might be a great match.

I witnessed my first foster sister meet her boyfriend’s mother. If Devery was nervous, she didn’t show it. She was perfect.

“Nice to meet you, Missus,” Devery-Beth said while shaking the older woman’s hand. “Bruce told me so much about what you do here at the farm. It’s really cool.” She looked around. “I need to tell you that I was in the foster care system most of my life. It’s how I met Lucy. We were lucky to be in a good placement together.” She looked at her feet before adding, “I think you know they’re not all good places.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Beth.” Missus turned the polite handshake into an embrace. “Yes. I’m proud of what we do here at the farm.”

Over the past two months, dinnertime had gone from being the best part of the day to the worst. Without Diego, it was as if the lighting over the dining table was on a dimmer switch turned way down. Everyone else carried on like usual, but I reverted to my quiet self. I had no appetite. I ate only to pretend I was normal.

Missus hardly ever spoke to me. When she asked round-table questions during dinner, she never started with me.

But with Devery at the dining table it was like discovering that the dull chandelier had been replaced with a disco ball. She remembered people’s names and asked a ton of questions. I joined in the laughter. Food tasted better. Missus, too, seemed delighted by Bruce’s girlfriend.

After dinner, Devery insisted on helping me clear the table and wash dishes.

“This takes me back,” she commented, handing me drinking glasses from the table. “Miss Lonnie needed one of these.” She motioned to the dishwasher.