Feather's Girl, page 10
part #2 of The Morley Stories Series
I said I’d see. But what I really want to tell them about is some ideas I’ve got that kids would like that would raise more money to save more pets.
“Extraordinary!” Mrs. Piers-Smythe says. “And what might these ideas be?”
“I’d rather make a presentation,” I tell her. I could already picture it in my head. The slides I’d make, the drawings I’d do, the research I need to do. It was just like my Get-A-Pet project. Only bigger.
“And you can’t just tell us now?”
“It would be better if I could give you all the information. I need to get ready to do that,” I say.
I see the other adults around the table nodding in agreement. Next to me, my mom smiles. Good. It feels exciting to have another project to do.
Mrs. Piers-Smythe and all the directors agree that I am invited to their next general meeting, in December, to present my ideas for involving kids and young volunteers in helping the pet shelter.
“Good for you,” my mother says after that, when we’re driving home. “You stood right up and said your piece, just like a grown-up. Are you pleased that they said they’d listen to your ideas?”
I was grinning so much, I thought she’d already know how pleased I am. And proud.
And happy.
twenty
Gus and Dom must have gone to every used car place there is, here and then up in the city.
Sometimes, Daisy and I went with them. It was fun. Usually, Dom drove and sometimes, Gus pulled out his harmonica and we all sang funny songs.
Gus looked at trucks. He did test drives in regular cars and even thought about maybe having a van. For a while, he had this crazy idea about buying an old delivery truck and turning it into a camper van. What he finally bought is a SUV.
He chose it, he said, because it was easy to get into and out of. And he liked how high up you sit in an SUV, so you can see everything. And there’s plenty of space in the back. But it’s still easy to park.
He said he’s happy to get a good reliable car and have his freedom again. And would I like to go search for some fossils?
And did Daisy want to come, too?
Daisy said sure, if we could go to Mickey Dee’s first?
So we did. There are a few places around here to find fossils. Down at Blue Beach is one of them. That’s where the ocean cuts away at the cliffs right above the shore, eroding it during storms. When this happens, you can find fossils of plants and animals. And, sometimes, little pieces of things that people used long ago, like arrow heads.
But today, we aren’t going to Blue Beach. Instead, we’re going to an old quarry, up on English Mountain Road. It belongs to one of Gus’ friends, so we have permission to look there for fossils.
Gus shows us how to spot the kinds of rocks that might have fossils hidden inside.
Then you need to knock them, hard, in just the right spot, to split the rock open.
Usually, there isn’t anything inside.
But sometimes, there are tiny shells of sea creatures.
And, if you’re really lucky, there’s the outline of an ancient fish. Or fern plant. Or insect.
Daisy runs around, stacking up what she calls lucky rocks. She means, ones that might have fossils in them.
I try to knock them open, but my hands are still sore.
We find some interesting things, and a few that Gus says will be really good. There’s also one that’s so special, he says he has to show it to his friend who’s a professor at the university. It could be a new discovery, he says.
It just looks like an ordinary fish to me. But, Gus says, it could be 100,000 years old. Maybe even older!
If it is, he says, he’ll donate it to the university’s collection, so lots of people can get to see it.
……
Gus doesn’t ever talk about his home and losing it.
Mom says it’s a private thing. And Daisy is not to ask about it.
Aunt Eira says it must hurt too much to talk about. But that he has people around him who care about him, especially me. She says she thinks, if he ever wants to talk about the fire, she’s sure he already knows we’ll listen.
Meanwhile, it’s enough just to keep him company, when he wants it. To find fossils, or out in his new workshop in our garage, where he’s got it set up to make his boxes again.
“Can’t change the past,” he says. “Only thing you can change is right now.”
Dom and Eira are over at our place one day in October. Eira is helping Mum get the new baby’s room ready. Or corner of mum’s room where our new brother, or maybe new sister, will have their crib. For now, Mum says. They’ll need a proper bedroom eventually. There isn’t possibly enough space for them to be in Daisy’s and my room.
“Maybe the new baby can share with Daisy,” I say, “And I can have my own room again.”
“Well, we’ll see,” Mom says.
Dom and I are cleaning all the windows. On the inside and also on the outside, as much as you can reach without climbing up a ladder outside. He says he’ll do that later.
At the same time, we’re taking off the summer screens and stacking them in the basement, ready to go back on the windows next spring.
I like Dom. I wouldn’t mind having him for an older brother, if I did have a brother. While we work, he tells me stuff about drawing and designing using a computer. He thinks it’s something I might want to try.
And he talks about some places he’s been to, like when he worked picking olives in Greece and how interesting it is to explore the markets in Istanbul, and asks if I ever want to travel? Of course I do, I say. As soon as I’m a grown up and I can.
He asks where I want to go first? I say there are so many places, I can’t make up my mind. Maybe England, because I want to go on that big ferris wheel they have, only you’re inside a little bubble and you can see the whole city.
Dom says that’s called the London Eye.
Or Australia, I say, to see kangaroos.
Or Japan, to ride on a bullet train. Or Paris. Sam liked it there. Or out West, like Jayden did last summer.
He laughs and keeps wiping the window he’s doing the high part of, while I wipe the lower part.
I might go to look for my father in Ireland, I think. I know it’s not a large country. How hard can it be to find someone there, when you already know their first name?
It’s Malcolm. That seems like a funny name. How many men named Malcolm can there be, in Ireland?
I’ve looked for him on the Internet already, with Eira helping. I think she probably knows where he is, or knows more about him, like his last name. But my mom says I don’t need to know that until I’m older. So Eira isn’t saying anything else about him.
Yet.
And then it’s Thanksgiving.
Mom has decided that making the turkey and a ham and all the trimmings is what she calls, “just too much of too much.” So instead, she’s booked a table for us at Blomidon Inn. That’s an old ship captain’s home. He must have had a lot of money and a big family, because it’s more like a mansion. Now, it’s a place for special occasion meals or having weddings in summer.
The Blomidon Inn people are one of mom’s customers for her scones and cakes, so she says she’s traded them for our Thanksgiving dinners. She says, for once, Thanksgiving will be a restful day for all of us.
There’s seven of us for our special Thanksgiving dinner. Mom, Daisy, me and Mr. Ferguson, except now we call him Uncle Gus. Aunt Eira and Dom. And Danny has come back for a visit. I think of how long I wanted him to be part of our family and I realize now that he is. Just not in the way I thought of, because he doesn’t live with us.
I wanted him to come back, but I guess that isn’t what he wanted. Or what my mom wanted.
It’s strange, but Danny seems so much happier, now that he doesn’t live with Daisy, me and mom. They both say that they’re better off as friends. And I know he’ll keep his promise that he’ll always be Daisy’s father and want to be in her life.
And the new baby’s life.
After the blessing, we eat our turkey and stuffing and cranberry jelly. There’s three types of pie for dessert. I choose pumpkin pie, with vanilla ice cream. When we’re finished eating, Mom clinks her spoon on her glass and says she wants to say a few words.
She talks about it being a challenging year for us all. In some ways a hard year. But also a year of new beginnings and second chances. I wonder if she’s thinking of her new baking business. Or starting the bed-and-breakfast business. Or being able to leave the school secretary job I know she didn’t like. Or if she’s thinking of the new person in our family who’s coming soon.
She talks about happiness, familiar and new.
She talks about giving thanks.
I think of all I’m thankful for. My family, of course, even though it’s different than I thought it would be. I look around the table and realize how much I care about these people.
My new uncle, Gus.
My favourite aunt, Eira.
Even my annoying little sister.
They’re my family. The family I wished for and my wish came true.
Both my wishes, because Feather is part of my family now.
Our family.
And I’m thankful for the ones that aren’t here right now. Aunt Sorcha and Uncle Chris and their little boys, our cousins.
My best friends Sam and Jayden. Other friends at school and in the pet club.
Mr. Cadeau, who really cares about his students.
My friends at the pet shelter. And at Saturday Market.
Then my mother asks us each to say something we’re so thankful for today. Or more than one thing, if we want.
“Well, I’m very thankful I chose the lemon pie, not the pumpkin, though they were both good,” Dom says with a grin, after eating all his piece and most of Eira’s. “Don’t know if I’ll feel that way tomorrow, though. Might have to run around Long Lake a few extra times this week to work it off!” He’s so skinny that this is ridiculous.
“Oh, you,” Eira says, but like all of us, she’s laughing.
“Oh yeah, and one other thing I’m grateful for,” Dom says. “The most beautiful girl in the world has said she’ll marry me. Her name is Ms. Eira Star!”
“YES!” Daisy says, so loud that everyone in the dining room stares at us. “We’re having a wedding next year and I’m going to be a bridesmaid!”
“We’ll see…” Mom says, leaning over to hug her sister. “I’m so happy for you both.”
“I’m grateful for my whole life,” Eira says. “Everything and everyone in it! How about you, Gus?”
Mr. Ferguson looks thoughtful. “Well, you all know how I might answer. But right now, I’m thankful to be enjoying this delicious meal with four lovely ladies and, uh, two charming young men.”
Daisy says she’s grateful that her green Froggie slippers got too small, because she didn’t really like them any more and wants new ones for Christmas. Mermaid ones, she says. That’s her new thing, that she looks like a girl, but really, she’s a mermaid.
Danny says he’s grateful for his new job. And he’s happy living in the city. But also how good it is to be able to be here in Seabright, where his darling daughter lives and his dear friends the Star family. He says he’ll be back at least once a month. And maybe sometimes the Stars will want to come to the city to visit?
“Maybe we will,” Mum says. “We’ll have to see.” She says she’s thankful for a healthy pregnancy, and that the morning sickness finally went away. And that the next time we’re all together, we’ll have our new little Star with us.
She means Daisy’s and my baby brother. Or sister. Danny reaches over and squeezes her hand. He says he’ll be here, when they’re born.
Uncle Gus says he forgot to say another thing he’s thankful for. That’s me and Daisy. “They’re the grandchildren I forgot to have,” he says, waggling his bushy eyebrows at Daisy to make her giggle. He winks at me.
My hand passes over my wrist as I think of my wishes for this year. My two big wishes. And how they’ve both come true. Just not quite the way I thought they would.
I have my family, all around me.
And I have Lucky Feather.
So those wish bracelets worked. Both my wishes came true.
It’s so pretty when we get home. Just starting to snow. I look in the windows for Feather, but don’t see him watching out for us. He must be curled up somewhere, asleep.
“Come on. We have to make snow mermaids!” Daisy says, rushing to get out of the car. Even though it’s that time of late afternoon that isn’t still the afternoon but isn’t evening yet. The blue hour, Ms. Maudie, my art teacher last summer, called it.
The time of magic, she said, for artists.
And, I think, for us all.
Daisy has already thrown herself on the ground to make a snow mermaid.
Why did I look up to the balcony, just then, instead of following everyone but Daisy inside? I can’t say. Really, I just don’t know.
Except that’s what I did. And there was Feather, sitting on the very edge of the railing on the balcony.
“Feather,” I shout. “NO!”
But he’s jumped up and now…
He’s FALLING!
I’m reaching out to him.
Running to catch him.
How could he…but of course. The flies landing on the window screens, and how much he likes to bat at them.
The screens, not on the windows any more, because it’s almost winter.
One of those balcony windows left just a little bit open by somebody. Maybe a guest. Or maybe one of us.
Just enough for one small black and white cat to squeeze himself through and get outside. On the balcony.
And up on the railing.
And fall off.
And I’m running, standing with my arms stretched up.
And he’s falling.
And I’m reaching to catch him.
And then he’s landed in my arms, cuddled against my coat. And he’s purring.
Morley, he says. My Morley.
I snuggle him close, keeping him warm, smelling his sweet scent and watching Daisy race around and laugh, trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue.
Snowflakes twinkle as they fall. They sparkle and give me an idea for a bride’s crown. You know, the thing she puts in her hair with an up-do. Eira has beautiful long hair, reddish-blonde. I picture the bride’s crown I’ll make for her. It will be golden, with pearl beads and sparkly crystals like snowflakes. For her spring wedding.
Then mum calls us and we head inside.
Daisy. And me. And Feather.
We’re home.
the end
Next In This Series:
Gifted
The whole world, it seems, is getting into the Christmas spirit.
Sam plays Christmas carols at Youth Orchestra concerts and at her school concert. She wraps gifts. She hears about presents under the tree and turkey with stuffing and Christmas with all the trimmings. And all the while, she wonders what it’s really like to have a family Christmas?
Stores play Christmas music. Neighbours hang up lights and gather in the town square for the lighting of the giant Christmas tree. At school, kids talk about what presents they hope to get.
But as Sam’s mother points out, their heritage is Korean, so they don’t “do” Christmas. Or Hanukah. Or Easter. Or Eid. Or any of the other happy holidays that might be celebrated by other people.
The Parks avoid the Holidays, no matter how much Sam wishes this wasn’t so. Then something happens that might make the one magical Christmas she’s longed for possible!
Read on to find chapter 1 of Gifted:
one
I hate airports.
They’re cave bubbles connected by hallways. You walk and walk and walk and still it seems you’re never getting to where you need to be.
You’re always practically running to somewhere, only to stand in another line-up before you can move on. Just hoping you’re going to finally get to the right place. At the right time.
After all that rushing, you have to just wait. Sitting in one of those hard plastic chairs. Feeling all jangly and sweaty.
Or you just stand around. Being bored.
There are so many better things you could be doing, if only you weren’t stuck here in this stupid airport. You could be hanging out with friends. Riding horses at Jayden’s ranch. Making jewellery with Morley. Making enchiladas with Tia Margaret.
Practicing.
Listening to music.
Reading.
Thinking.
Swimming!
But no, you’re stuck in some stupid airport.
Where there’s all these rules about what you can and can’t take with you. Or do. Or say. It’s as if, in airports, you’re supposed to stop being a person and start being a robot that looks like a person.
One who has to carry too much stuff.
And never needs to pee because you always have to search for the washrooms. When you finally find one, it’s probably closed for cleaning. Or there’s a line-up.
All of this is bad enough. But it’s the sounds of airports that make me want to scream. There’s a lot of noise bouncing around and banging into your ears in those hallow buildings.
It’s like crackly static in your head, taking up all the space so you can’t think.
Or hear the music in your head.
Or just be quiet.
Airports are just about the coldest, unfriendliest, noisiest places I’ve ever been. Nobody there ever looks happy. Nobody smiles. They all just look like I feel, which is too hot and worried and wishing I could get out of here.
