True Colors (25 page)

“What a day,” Hannah sighed. “Too bad about the celebration, Wallace. All that work you put into it, and now the whole thing will have to be cancelled.”

“Who said anything like that?” Mr. Gilpin thundered. “I’m not cancelling the celebration. The history that I wrote washed away, but we’re still putting on the pageant.”

“You can use the history that Blue wrote,” Nadine piped up.

I swiveled my head to look at her. How did she know about that? I wondered. I hadn’t told Nadine I was doing it.

“I came by your house this morning to say goodbye,” Nadine told me. “I went upstairs, looking for you, and that’s when I found it.”

Mr. Gilpin fixed his eyes on me.

“You didn’t tell me you were writing a history,” he said.

“It’s j-just stories I wrote down that Hannah and the quilting ladies told,” I stammered. “It’s not very good.”

“It is too!” Nadine almost shouted. “I wasn’t supposed to read it, but I did, and it’s really good.”

“If Blue wrote it, I’m sure it is,” Mr. Gilpin said. “I’m eager to read it. But right now I’m off to finish writing up this story before Roy scoops me, and get the paper out.”

“But how?” Hannah asked. “The
Monitor
’s flooded.”

“Roy says I can print the paper at his office till we can get everything dried out,” Mr. Gilpin said. “I’m certain he won’t mind if we print up Blue’s history, too.”

I was sure I hadn’t heard right.

“Mr. Allard is going to let you print
there
?” I asked.

“Of course,” Mr. Gilpin said, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. “I’d do the same for him.”

“I did manage to rescue one thing from the office,” Mr. Gilpin went on, and plopped his dictionary down on the chair beside the tub. “Thought you might be needing it.”

I looked at him, not understanding.

“I’m offering you a job, after school and summers,” Mr. Gilpin said. “That is, if you’re planning on staying.”

Hannah must have told him I’d run away, I thought. If so, he probably knew about the college fund jar too. I ducked my head in shame and gave a weak little nod.

“Good,” Mr. Gilpin said. “Speaking of rescues—you were going to rescue his animals, weren’t you?”

I wondered how he knew that, but I nodded again.

“That’s what you were trying to tell me at Old Home
Day, wasn’t it, about Raleigh’s animals?” Mr. Gilpin said, as if reading my mind.

I looked at him in surprise, and he grinned.

“I’m not an investigative reporter for nothing, you know,” he said. “Anyway, I want you to write up a story about Raleigh and how he’s been rescuing and caring for those animals all these years, and we’re going to see if we can’t build him a wildlife sanctuary, where he can take care of birds and animals for as long as he wants to. I think it’s his calling.”

I thought so, too, and I thought how happy Raleigh would be that he could help even more animals.

“You’ll be an apprentice, and work your way up, just like I did,” Mr. Gilpin said. “That was a good piece of detective work you did, finding out about those missing animals, even if it did turn out to be Raleigh instead of the Wright brothers. Shows you’ve got the makings of a good reporter. Might even be
your
calling.”

Mr. Gilpin opened the door, but paused, his hand on the doorknob.

“Who knows,” he said. “You might even take over the paper someday.”

He gave a little smile and clicked the door shut behind him.

chapter 33

It seemed too quiet with just me and Hannah.

“I’m sorry about the college fund—” I began, but Hannah nearly smothered me in a hug.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Oh, Blue, I could have lost
you
.”

I knew she must have about a hundred questions for me, and I had some for her, too.

“How’d you know—” I began again, meaning to ask how she’d known where to look for me, but Hannah didn’t let me finish.

“I just knew you were in trouble,” she said.

Hannah didn’t say another word as she toweled me off, wrapped a quilt around me, set me on the couch, and fixed me a cup of cocoa, with extra marshmallows. When she sat down next to me, I figured I was going to get the talking-to of my life.

“Now,” she said, “why were you running away?”

“Is Myrtle my mother?” I asked her.

Only a flicker of surprise crossed Hannah’s face. She sat for what seemed like a century before she answered.

“Yes,” she said. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. You were the spitting image of her.”

She looked at me.

“I imagine you’d like to see some pictures of her,” she said.

There were pictures of Myrtle? How could I have lived in this house for ten and a half years and not known that? I nodded.

Hannah went into her bedroom and came back out a few minutes later with a worn photo album. She showed me photos of Myrtle as a baby, in first grade, riding Dolly, paddling a canoe. If I squinted, any of those photos could have been of me.

There was one of her crying.

“That was at Old Home Day, when a clown tried to give her a balloon,” Hannah said. “Myrtle never did like clowns.”

A shiver ran through me. If finding my mama was like piecing a quilt, another piece had just got sewn into place.

There were later photos of Myrtle, too, in high school. Hannah pointed to one of them.

“This is the last photo I have of her,” she said. “It was taken a month before she left.”

The picture was a little blurry, but it showed Myrtle
standing in front of the barn, her hands tucked into her coat pockets.

“I’ve studied that picture a thousand times,” Hannah said, “trying to figure out how I missed all the signs that
she
was in trouble, too.

“I wanted her to go to college so bad, to have the opportunities that I’d missed out on, I never asked what
she
wanted,” Hannah continued. “Then, when I found you, I thought, Here’s my second chance.”

I thought of the college fund jar, and felt my face flush with shame. All that hard-saved money lost, and Hannah’s dreams dashed again.

I stared at Myrtle’s face.

“What was she like?” I whispered.

“She was stubborn as a mule,” Hannah said. “Whenever I told her to do something, she gave me eleven reasons why she shouldn’t have to.”

“She sounds obstreperous,” I said without thinking. That had been one of the words I’d learned from “It Pays to Increase Your Word Power.” That seemed a hundred years ago.

Hannah looked startled, then burst out laughing.

“Yes, obstreperous, but she had a sweet side, too. She was her father’s daughter, through and through, and I guess I’m glad Herbert died before Myrtle ran away, because I’m sure that would have killed him. It pretty near killed me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come into my life, Blue.”

My throat closed up, and I was afraid I was going to start bawling. In all my ten years, I’d never heard Hannah say so much, or with so much feeling.

“Why did she leave?” I asked.

Hannah sighed.

“After Herbert died, I was grieving so much that I couldn’t see how much Myrtle was grieving, too. I’m sure she just wanted to get away. She met a boy at a dance, and they started seeing each other. I didn’t think she was old enough to be dating, and I didn’t think this boy was good enough for her. He was wild, and reckless, and I thought he was going to break her heart, but part of it was selfish, too. I didn’t want her leaving me to rattle around in this house all alone. So I put my foot down, forbade her to see him. She told me one night that he was coming for her, that they were going to run off together, but he didn’t show up. Turned out, coming to get her, he crashed his car. They pulled him out alive, but Doc didn’t give him much chance of surviving and said he’d have brain damage if he did. Next thing I knew, Myrtle had disappeared. Wasn’t but a month later that you were left in my yard.”

I closed my eyes. It was just too much to take in.

“It’s true, that old saying, Be careful what you wish for, it might come true,” Hannah said. “After Myrtle left, all I wanted was for her to come back. But then I was terrified she would.”

I couldn’t imagine Hannah terrified. Why wouldn’t she want her daughter back? And wasn’t that the same as Myrtle not wanting
me
back?

I kept my eyes closed, just letting Hannah talk.

“I was afraid she’d take you back, Blue,” Hannah said. “It was almost as if I’d made a trade, Myrtle for you, and I wasn’t willing to trade back.”

That I could understand. It was what I’d been wrestling with, out there, before I got hit by the water, deciding if I was willing to trade Hannah for Myrtle.

“I’m sorry, Blue,” Hannah said. “I wanted to do better by you, but it looks like I’ve just made the same mistakes. I should have told you about Myrtle, and I should have told you more often how proud I am of you.”

Well, I hadn’t done a very good job letting Hannah know how I felt about her, either.

“You were foolish risking your life to rescue those animals,” Hannah went on. “But very brave, too. But then I guess you would be, being Spencer Chamberlain’s great-great-great-great-granddaughter.”

I opened my eyes and stared into Hannah’s face, not understanding.

“The boy Myrtle loved,” Hannah said. “It was Raleigh.”

Raleigh? Raleigh True?

My
father
?

“When I heard him call you Blue True, I knew for certain that Myrtle must have told him she was going to have a
baby, that’s why they were going to run off together,” Hannah said.

I thought of the initials carved in the rock:
M + R
.

Myrtle and Raleigh.

Hannah sighed.

“I just wish she’d been able to tell me,” she said.

All this time, I’d been wondering about and looking for my
mother
, and my
father
had been right here, the whole time.

All this time, Raleigh had been trying to tell me.

Only four words, but they told my story:
Blue True, baby, Myrtle
. The clues had been there all along, if only I’d listened.

Raleigh True.

My father.

Hannah stood up and rummaged around in the desk drawer. She handed me a piece of paper. Myrtle’s name was on it, and an address out in California.

“It’s an old address, so she might have moved,” Hannah said. “She never answered any of my letters. But she just might answer one from you.”

Finally, after all this searching, was I going to find my real mama?

Hannah reached for her sweater.

“I hate leaving you home alone,” she said, “but Mabel’s mother is doing poorly. They think she may pass tonight. I thought I’d go sit with her, if you think you’re all right.”

That was Hannah. Not only did she help the living, but she helped ease their passing on into the next life, too.

Hannah picked up her bag and headed for the door.

“Did you see Cat today?” I asked.

Hannah gave a little shake of her head and left.

The room seemed as big as a barn, the only sounds the hiss of the fire in the stove and the soft ticking of the clock. It had been just a few hours since I’d left this morning.

It seemed like a million years.

I pulled the quilt around me and sat by the stove trying to sort out how I felt. Melancholy? Forlorn? Atrabilarious? But I was tired of all the big words.

I just felt plain blue.

Maybe that’s why Hannah had named me Blue. Maybe that’s how she’d felt, with a daughter who had just run off. Maybe Blue was the only name that seemed right.

I thought about Raleigh and Myrtle, and how their dreams of a life together had shattered. I could see why Myrtle had run off, but why hadn’t she ever come back for me?

I even thought about Cat. I’d loved her, but she’d left me, too. My own mama hadn’t wanted me, and now Cat hadn’t wanted me, either.

With so many thoughts tumbling through my head, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink, but no one had told that to my eyelids, so I was sinking into sleep when a floorboard on the porch creaked.

chapter 34