Mississippi,” her grandfather yelled, as if he were trying to outshout her. “We’re in Forest, Mississippi!”
There was another tirade, shorter this time, but no less intense.
“We flew eight hours. That’s how we got so far. I just added it up—five hundred sixty-five miles, the most I ever flew in my life … well, I am proud of myself … I’m not proud of bringing Birch, of course not … She’s right here. You want to speak to her?”
He held out the phone. “Your turn.”
Birch took it. Her mother’s first words were, “Why, Birch, why?”
“Why what?”
“This isn’t like you, Birch, running off without a word.”
“I know, but I was afraid you would stop me. Pop was afraid you’d stop him too.”
“Well, I couldn’t have stopped him, but—”
“I’m sorry.” Birch’s voice quivered.
Pop turned abruptly and went into the bathroom. Birch could hear water running as he splashed his face. She noticed that he left the door open so he could follow the conversation.
“Are you all right, Birch?” her mom asked. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m fine.”
“I have the feeling something’s wrong.”
“No, I’m fine. I just wanted to come on this trip. When did you find out?”
“I came up after the garage sale—incidentally we made over twenty-six hundred dollars—I came upstairs with a cigar box containing twenty-six hundred dollars which was a very scary feeling. I could have been robbed. I was calling Joyce to ask her to drive me to the bank to deposit the money, when I saw the note. I shook it open, read it, and hung up the phone in Joyce’s face.”
“I knew you’d be mad, Mom, but—”
“Mad! I was shaking like a leaf. I called your father—got him out of an orthodontics banquet to read him the note. Incidentally did you see it?”
“The note? No.”
“Here it is, in its entirety. ‘By the time you read this, Birch and I will be on our way to California in the J-3 Cub. We’ll call tonight.’ Like you’d gone to the corner drugstore.”
“What did Dad say?”
“Actually I am just as furious at your father as I am at you and Pop.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“He laughed.”
“Laughed?”
“He has always gotten a kick out of your grandfather. I said I fail to see the humor in this.’ He said, ‘I think it’s great.’”
“Dad said great?”
“He said, ‘I would have given anything to fly to California in a J-3 Cub when I was Birch’s age. My grandfather had a variety store and wouldn’t even let me play with the BB guns.’”
“I can’t believe he said great. I thought I’d have to go to the office for a talk. I—”
“I said, ‘Does this mean that you are not going to help me get her back?’ I already had the road atlas out by this time, figuring how far you had gotten. My thumb was on Alabama. It never occurred to me you’d make Mississippi!”
“Dad said no?”
“Your father never says no, you know that. He said if I thought it was the right thing to do, he would get in the car himself and come get you.”
“Is he coming?”
The thought was not upsetting to Birch, because on the long drive home—eight or nine hours, surely—she would get the courage to say what was on her mind. She longed to hear her dad say “You thought what? Oh, Birch, no. Nothing like that ever happened. It was just a poem. You know your grandmother. She was probably afraid something like that would happen, and so she …”
Her mother was still talking. “But, he also said that he wanted me to think about it, because he thought it could be a wonderful experience, the kind of thing you would remember all your life.”
“Is he coming?”
“So I gave it some thought, and while I do not approve of the way you and Dad did this—I don’t like that one bit. While I do not approve of the way you did it, I’m not going to stop you.”
“You aren’t?”
“No.”
“Dad’s not coming?”
“No. Now, tell me all about it,” her mother
There was another tirade, shorter this time, but no less intense.
“We flew eight hours. That’s how we got so far. I just added it up—five hundred sixty-five miles, the most I ever flew in my life … well, I am proud of myself … I’m not proud of bringing Birch, of course not … She’s right here. You want to speak to her?”
He held out the phone. “Your turn.”
Birch took it. Her mother’s first words were, “Why, Birch, why?”
“Why what?”
“This isn’t like you, Birch, running off without a word.”
“I know, but I was afraid you would stop me. Pop was afraid you’d stop him too.”
“Well, I couldn’t have stopped him, but—”
“I’m sorry.” Birch’s voice quivered.
Pop turned abruptly and went into the bathroom. Birch could hear water running as he splashed his face. She noticed that he left the door open so he could follow the conversation.
“Are you all right, Birch?” her mom asked. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m fine.”
“I have the feeling something’s wrong.”
“No, I’m fine. I just wanted to come on this trip. When did you find out?”
“I came up after the garage sale—incidentally we made over twenty-six hundred dollars—I came upstairs with a cigar box containing twenty-six hundred dollars which was a very scary feeling. I could have been robbed. I was calling Joyce to ask her to drive me to the bank to deposit the money, when I saw the note. I shook it open, read it, and hung up the phone in Joyce’s face.”
“I knew you’d be mad, Mom, but—”
“Mad! I was shaking like a leaf. I called your father—got him out of an orthodontics banquet to read him the note. Incidentally did you see it?”
“The note? No.”
“Here it is, in its entirety. ‘By the time you read this, Birch and I will be on our way to California in the J-3 Cub. We’ll call tonight.’ Like you’d gone to the corner drugstore.”
“What did Dad say?”
“Actually I am just as furious at your father as I am at you and Pop.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“He laughed.”
“Laughed?”
“He has always gotten a kick out of your grandfather. I said I fail to see the humor in this.’ He said, ‘I think it’s great.’”
“Dad said great?”
“He said, ‘I would have given anything to fly to California in a J-3 Cub when I was Birch’s age. My grandfather had a variety store and wouldn’t even let me play with the BB guns.’”
“I can’t believe he said great. I thought I’d have to go to the office for a talk. I—”
“I said, ‘Does this mean that you are not going to help me get her back?’ I already had the road atlas out by this time, figuring how far you had gotten. My thumb was on Alabama. It never occurred to me you’d make Mississippi!”
“Dad said no?”
“Your father never says no, you know that. He said if I thought it was the right thing to do, he would get in the car himself and come get you.”
“Is he coming?”
The thought was not upsetting to Birch, because on the long drive home—eight or nine hours, surely—she would get the courage to say what was on her mind. She longed to hear her dad say “You thought what? Oh, Birch, no. Nothing like that ever happened. It was just a poem. You know your grandmother. She was probably afraid something like that would happen, and so she …”
Her mother was still talking. “But, he also said that he wanted me to think about it, because he thought it could be a wonderful experience, the kind of thing you would remember all your life.”
“Is he coming?”
“So I gave it some thought, and while I do not approve of the way you and Dad did this—I don’t like that one bit. While I do not approve of the way you did it, I’m not going to stop you.”
“You aren’t?”
“No.”
“Dad’s not coming?”
“No. Now, tell me all about it,” her mother
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