BB Russell Russell

GURNEY SPECTATOR NEWS

November 1, 1966—Tuesday Edition

CARNIVAL VANISHES

Set to run for another week, Carnival Nolianna up and vanished this morning from Hayward Field, near Potato River Falls, Wisconsin. Without a word from its owner, Mel Singer, hundreds of patrons are left with unused tickets. The carnival was scheduled to run until November 6. Anyone with information regarding this disappearance, please call the local police.

Chapter 1

October 25, 2006

Wednesday, 4:27 p.m.

Twenty-two months and seventeen days.

Lilah repeated it in her head over and over again.

Twenty-two months and seventeen days until she turned eighteen, could move out of foster care and back into the house she’d shared with Grandma Pea for the last eight years. Her heart hurt each time she thought about leaving the only home she could truly remember.

A loud, hard knock interrupted her rumination.

“Lilah Jane McCarthy, open the door! I’m freezing out here!” yelled Mrs. Reed from the other side of the wooden front door.

Lilah let out a sigh and glanced through the peephole. She glared at the heavyset case worker. Wearing a short-sleeve, white button-down blouse, heavy, white winter boots, and a thick wool scarf but no coat, Mrs. Reed was a conundrum at best. Never smiling yet always boasting about how happy she was to find homes for foster kids, Mrs. Reed was about as fun as getting wisdom teeth pulled, without the drugs.

Lilah opened the door and a sharp, cold gust of late-autumn Ithaca wind rushed in, along with Mrs. Reed. An undoubtedly early winter was predicted for all of western New York, and Ithaca was no exception.

“Seriously, Lilah, let’s go already! I told you yesterday that I’m on a tight schedule,” Mrs. Reed huffed, arms crossed. She teeter-tottered from foot to foot, like a toddler who had to go to the bathroom. “I hope you have all of your things. It’ll be awhile before you can come back here.”

Lilah nodded and closed the door. Thoughts of all the times she and Grandma Pea had closed that door to take their nightly walk popped in her mind. Pea would let her lock it and then she’d put the key with the daisy keychain in her left front pocket of her white cardigan, patting the pocket to make sure it was safe and sound. Lilah felt all the air go out of her lungs.

“I’m all set,” she replied. “I have everything right here in my bags. I don’t need much. I’ve taken care of shutting off the water, and Mr. Gray from next door has agreed to keep a watch on things and forward any mail to the lawyer until I can come back.”

“Well, good. I know this is hard on you, but it’s for the best. Your Grandmother Penelope wanted you to have a good home.”

Heat spread like wildfire across Lilah’s cheeks. Mrs. Reed had no idea what her Grandma Pea would’ve wanted.

“Now hurry up and get your stuff. I’ll be waiting at the car.”

Without wasting another second, Mrs. Reed abruptly opened the door and rushed out as quickly as she’d come in.

Lilah stuck out her foot to block the door from banging into the wall and knocking pictures down—as Mrs. Reed had done several times in the past few days whenever she blew in or out.

Lilah hunched forward, a silent scream caught in her throat. She could feel the veins in her temples pulsate, and did all she could not to punch the pinky-beige wall beside her. Her thoughts raced, but she knew in her heart that resistance was futile. Ever since Grandma Pea had died two days ago, she’d asked politely to stay in her house, and then when that didn’t work, she’d argued and pleaded. Each time, Mrs. Reed had said no.

Taking in a deep breath and holding it, Lilah straightened up, grabbed her stuff, and exited the house. She pulled the heavy, wooden oak door behind her with her one free hand, then turned and locked it before walking toward the car. Trembling, it took all of her strength not to drop everything and run back toward the house. Instead, she balanced her belongings in her arms and batted flyaway strands of long, frizzy, orange-red hair away from her eyes. The unruly wind made her hair get bigger by the second. All it took was someone to breathe heavy and the puff would begin. Her hair really had a life all its own.

Mrs. Reed waited in the middle of the driveway next to the state-issued, oversized, beige sedan, motioning her hands in circles and indicating for Lilah to hurry up.

A pang of sadness clanged in Lilah’s stomach. She may actually have liked Mrs. Reed under any other circumstances.

“COME ON ALREADY!”

Okay, maybe not.

“All right, all right,” Lilah muttered under her breath and walked toward the sedan.

“Hurry up!” Mrs. Reed repeated, walking to the trunk and opening it, never losing eye contact.

“I’m coming. I just had to lock the door!” Lilah shouted so that she could be heard over the wind. Mrs. Reed was deaf in one ear and refused to wear a hearing aid.

“Just put them in and let’s get a move on.” Mrs. Reed pointed to the trunk.

Lilah did as she was told and then let herself into the car. As she sat on the cold, leather-back seat, her eyes stung. Mrs. Reed plopped down in the front and glanced at Lilah in the rearview mirror while she started the engine.

“Well, you really should like this new family. It’s not every day that a foster family is quick to take in a sixteen-year-old,” Mrs. Reed said, shaking her head before turning her attention to driving. “Though I wish you’d dressed a little better for the occasion, Li.”

“Li-lah.”

“What?” Mrs. Reed replied, and glanced back.

“Nothing.” Lilah shook her head. There was no use in trying to correct Mrs. Reed because she didn’t really care what Lilah preferred. Her job was to listen, but she couldn’t hear, literally or figuratively. To her, Lilah was just another kid without a family that she had to place. Lilah wondered if she even was a real social worker. Mrs. Reed totally lacked in the communication-skills department. Each time Lilah had tried to talk with her over the past few days, Mrs. Reed had shut her down. Lilah was invisible in the world of adults.

Turning her head to stare out the window, Lilah caught a glimpse of her hair in the reflection and the pit in her stomach widened. Attempts to tame her mane were pointless. She’d let it grow out when she turned fourteen, and after two years, her hair still did whatever it wanted. Even Aiden hadn’t had hair like hers. He’d gotten their mom’s beautiful black hair and tan skin—at least that’s how she remembered him. So much had happened since her family died eight years ago. Grandma Pea had taken her in without question, but this time, there was no one left. Lilah’s heart ached, and she wished somewhere there was a place she belonged.

“The couple you’ll be living with has had dozens of foster children through the years. You never know . . . you aren’t too old to be adopted!” Mrs. Reed said in a singsong voice. “Foster care isn’t as bad as people think it is.”

Lilah admired her useless optimism.

“Well, it’s only a couple of miles away from here. Hopefully the gray sky and storms will lighten up soon. Did you know that earlier this month the United States hit three hundred million people. . . , ” Mrs. Reed jabbered on.

Lilah nodded to make Mrs. Reed think she was listening and stared out the window. Reaching up, she touched her mother’s ring on her necklace: twenty-two months and seventeen days.

Mrs. Reed pounded the brakes like they were cockroaches frantically scurrying to escape. Lilah jerked forward and back.

“Oops. Thank goodness for seatbelts!” Mrs. Reed chuckled over her shoulder.

Pain shot up Lilah’s neck. How Mrs. Reed ever got permission to transport children was a true mystery.

“Well, here they are, Li! Your new family.” Mrs. Reed hopped out of the car.

Still shaken, Lilah looked down at her trembling hands and clutched them together. Holding her breath, she turned her gaze to the dreary neighborhood where they had stopped. Each of the three-story, 1960-something houses was so close together that someone could lean out their window and touch their neighbor’s house. They were all painted different shades of dingy brown-gray with overgrown half-dead bushes in small, suburban-sized yards, and discarded toys lying all around. The wind had died down long enough for plastic wrappers, old containers, and random newspapers to haphazardly scatter across several lawns.

A deep-seated ache erupted in her bones, and everything in her just wanted to be back in Grandma Pea’s tight-knit, well-cared-for home and neighborhood. She bit her lip.

Mrs. Reed caught Lilah’s eye through the car window. She motioned for her to join. There was a small group of people who appeared to be waiting for the bus. No one looked at each other, or seemed to even acknowledge their arrival, despite Mrs. Reed’s chattering.

Lilah looked away from the group and blinked several times.

The car door opened and Mrs. Reed yanked Lilah out by the arm.

“Really, Lilah, don’t you think you could at least get out of the car? Stop being difficult and come meet your new family!” Mrs. Reed said through gritted teeth and gave a quick head jerk toward the small group of people outside the car.

Lilah reluctantly got out of the car and shuffled forward a few steps. She stopped and looked at her new foster parents.

Mrs. Reed hip checked Lilah forward a few more steps. “I know this is difficult for you, but please. Have some manners and greet your new family. They’re very excited to meet you.”

Lilah looked at the couple and the three younger boys who stood behind them. She tried to smile. No one moved or turned their eyes to even look at her.

“Hi,” Lilah managed to squeak out.

Raising a bushy, unkempt, gray eyebrow and turning his gaze slightly, the man spoke. “I'm Abe Anderson. This is Eva, my wife. Call her Eva. That’s Caleb, Eddie, and Brody,” he said flatly, pointing at the woman and three boys under age ten next to him.

Abe’s long, wispy beard covered most of his face, except for his dark, expressionless eyes. Eva was a five-foot-tall round woman who had gray eyes that matched her hair, which was pinned into a mess of curls around her portly face. She looked at Abe and flashed a quick attempt at a half smile. Her wrinkly skin sagged, and despite her best attempts to look interested, her deadpan stare indicated her true feelings. Lilah guessed Eva was tired of taking care of kids who weren’t hers, or having new kids come in and out—or maybe she was just tired of waiting for the bus on the wrong curb. Lilah wasn’t sure.

“I’m Lilah.”

“Well, ain’t you unusual? That hair of yours sure is something!” Abe said with a straight face, and stared directly at her for the first time. He ran his hand down his beard and looked Lilah up and down. “You sure must turn into a lobster during the summer.”

An intense heat rose in Lilah’s cheeks and she looked down at her feet. Her lily-white skin, covered by a million freckles, had been the butt of jokes since she could remember.

Lilah heard Grandma Pea’s voice in her head.

Just remember, Lilah, the ugly duckling who turned into a swan. You, my dear, are a swan. Someday you, and everyone else, will see it.

Unfortunately, today wasn’t someday. Today, Abe was just an ass.

While no one was watching and without a sound, all three boys, dressed in dirty blue jeans, ratty, once-white Nike sneakers, and gray sweatshirts, grabbed her belongings and darted toward the house. All three had the exact same short, black curly hair clipped short and tight to their heads. They all looked alike and about six to eight years younger than her. She’d never lived with anyone younger than her before. The day had just gotten more interesting.

Abe coughed, causing Lilah to turn her gaze back to him.

“So you’ve your own room on the third floor. It’s small, but private. Eva’ll go over the house rules with you later once you get settled. You’ll find her in the kitchen whenever you need her. It’s where you’ll be, too, once you get settled in,” Abe said in a monotone, and then added, “We’re happy to have you here.”

Abe moved his gaze to Mrs. Reed. She beamed ear to ear.

“Well, what do ya say, Li?” Mrs. Reed asked, and stepped in front of Lilah. “How ’bout if we all go on inside and get acquainted?” Mrs. Reed took Abe’s arm.

Lilah stared at Mrs. Reed. It was like watching a chameleon change to adapt to its new environment. Mrs. Reed was either horrible at reading people or really liked mirroring Abe.

“I’ve a very busy day scheduled. I have two other children who I have to take places today. It’s just the saddest of circumstances . . . ,” Mrs. Reed explained as the three adults walked up to the house, leaving Lilah alone, standing by herself in what was supposed to be a new, welcoming chapter of her life. So much for that.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lilah caught sight of the curtains swaying in the front window next door. Had someone had been watching them? The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. At least someone is interested in my being here, she thought.

Lilah stood alone on the curb and watched as her new family disappeared inside 7061 North Navy Way. She made a note of the house number she’d be living at for the next twenty-two months and seventeen days. Turning eighteen couldn’t come soon enough.