Chapter 78

They peered into Noel’s room first, ducking under the yellow tape that wrapped the entire building. Inside the room they found it charred, sky visible through the hole in the ceiling. Crunching over blackened bits, Harley worked his way to the bathroom, Jennalee close behind. The bathroom door was gone but the bathtub remained. “That’s what saved him,” Harley said.

The tub was full of black water and burned wood. “Hard to believe anybody made it out of here,” Jennalee said.

They crunched back out, then went into the next room, the one the three boys had shared. It too was badly burned, but not as thoroughly. Wet, of course, everything soggy and stinking. “Yuck,” Jennalee said as they backed out.

Next came the Laidlaw parents’ room which was lightly burned and soaking wet. The closet was empty. “Mom must have salvaged some stuff,” Harley noted. They took a look into the last room, but didn’t go in. “Nothing there,” said Harley.

“What a mess,” Jennalee said as they stood finishing their Cokes.

Just then a motorcycle started and Harley said, “That’s for me.”

“No!” Jennalee cried, grabbing his arm. She knew she was acting like a toddler, but didn’t care. She couldn’t lose him.

Harley just chuckled and started pulling her along. Oddly, this quieted her. Sometimes his being almost parental turned out to be a good thing.

Lizann was talking to Jane when they reached the courtyard. When Lizann saw the kids, she came over to Jennalee. “I am so happy to know you,” she said. Jennalee beamed. She then took Jennalee’s face in her hands, surprisingly soft hands, and grew serious. “You play brilliantly, my dear. Embrace your gift. Do what Harley does. Practice, study, and enjoy. Aim high. You’ve got the talent.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly overcome, Jennalee hugged the big woman to her and held on for a few seconds. “Thank you,” she said again when she let go.

Gerald and Jane had now retreated to the porch to watch things play out. Jennalee realized they’d already said their goodbyes to the Laidlaws. It was all down to her now and she hated that.

Garth and Earl were on their motorcycles while Harley stood near the fountain. As Lizann joined the men, climbing onto her motorcycle, donning her helmet, Harley took Jennalee’s hand. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, handing her a little folded paper.

She unfolded it to find an eighth note earring like his. “The other half of the pair,” he said. “Appropriate, don’t you think?”

She clutched paper and earring to her heart and started to cry again. “That’s the most beautiful thing ever,” she managed.

“Put it on,” he said.

“I can’t,” she sniffled. “I stopped wearing jewelry a couple years ago and my ear holes closed up, but I’ll get them poked open, I will, promise. I’m going to wear this forever.” She then kissed him on the lips because there was no other way to kiss at such a moment and he kissed her back, though it was one of those loving kisses, not the other kind.

“I’ll miss you,” he said. “I’ll be pining for you no end, but I’ll be back next year. Think of the time we’ll have. Think of all we’ll have accomplished by then.”

“Good luck at your competition. You have to call me. I want you in touch, okay?” She fished a paper from her pocket on which she’d written phone numbers, email address, snail mail, every communication access she could think of. “I haveto hear from you.”

“You will.” He kissed her cheek, turned and went to Garth’s motorcycle, where he put on a helmet and climbed aboard, violin case slung across his back. Garth didn’t look at her and she was grateful. Finally, a kindness.

As the Laidlaws roared away, Jennalee joined her parents on the porch. When things quieted, when the Laidlaws were out on the highway headed south, the little family let silence settle over them. “Quiet,” said Gerald. “I’m liking that.”

“What a weekend,” Jane offered.

“Best ever,” Jennalee said. “I just wish it didn’t have to end.”

Jane squeezed her shoulder. “Not quite all of them are gone. Remember, we’ve still got Bob and Clifford, and Marian hasn’t left, either. She’s sticking by Phyllis, what with all that poor woman is going through. We’ll get rooms made up for them today and they can stay on however long they need.”

Jennalee thought of Bob. She could talk to him, help him get through this, and Clifford. Did he still have Bascomb Bunny? She’d have to check on that.

In the living quarters, Bob was watching television with Clifford, who sat clutching the rabbit. Jennalee flopped down beside him. “You like Bascomb?” she asked.

Clifford looked up with panic in his eyes. “It’s Lee’s bunny, Cliffy,” Bob said. “She just loaned him to you.”

Clifford now appeared stricken, but just as he’d done with his father, he didn’t cry. He let the rabbit drop into his lap. Jennalee started to reach for Bascomb. He was hers, after all. He’d merely been on loan during a crisis. The bunny lay unclaimed for the moment, which wasn’t really fair to him. What would he want in this situation? She’d had him since childhood and yet there was a newness filling her, like she was about to embark on some mysterious trip, and she saw Bascomb didn’t need to come with her. Her secrets would be safe with him if he moved on, so she picked him up, kissed his near threadbare cheek as she had a thousand times, and handed him to Clifford.

“You can keep him, but you have to take very good care of him because he’s the most important rabbit ever. Okay? You remember his name, right? It’s Bascomb. Can you say that?”

“Bascomb,” Clifford repeated, eyes wide. “Bascomb Bunny and I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

“He’ll be a great friend. He’s been very good to me, and I know he’ll be good to you.”

Clifford hugged the rabbit, then held him out and looked at him. “Hello, Bascomb,” he said. “I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

“I think he’s smiling,” said Jennalee.

She made her exit then, glancing back to watch Clifford for a couple seconds. Bascomb was clutched in his arms as he watched SpongeBob Squarepants. “Bye Bascomb,” she whispered. She then went to her room, where she looked at her shelf of stuffed animals.

She tried Buddy the duck but he didn’t seem eager for confidences, nor did Peter the penguin. She took up Simon Squirrel and ran a hand over his big fluffy tail. Simon was three times the size of an actual squirrel, warm brown in color with small, dark, glass eyes. He’d been created in a sitting position with his head turned to the left and his stitched mouth wasn’t smiling.

“Serious squirrel,” Jennalee said to him, but maybe that was appropriate now, what with life taking the turn it had. His ears were tiny compared to Bascomb’s long floppy ones, but appeared large enough to accommodate secrets. Best of all, his plush was still plush. He hadn’t lived long enough for his coat to be worn away, so there were lots of years left in him.

Now that a new friendship had been made official, Jennalee downloaded the chaccone from Bach’s Partita No. 2 onto her iPod, put in her earbuds, and stretched out on her bed with Simon Squirrel perched her chest. As the movement came alive, so did Harley, and she thought of him zooming down the road. She looked forward to hearing from him, as she knew she would. For now she gave Simon a good squeeze, then brought him to her lips where she whispered into his ear, “His name is Harley.”