Blown Away! Page 13

  I turned away and walked through the desolate place that had been our beautiful island home. I had to find Mara. But there was no sign of her anywhere.

  A group of men came and, with Jewel’s help, were able to right Sharkey’s boxcar. Then we cleaned it up and threw out items that had been ruined by the tidal wave. We ate out of cans over an outdoor fire and slept on blankets the Salvation Army gave us. They gave us clothes and shoes, too, that people on the mainland had donated, so we burned our dirty, bloody clothes in the fire. I was glad at night for the pants and long-sleeved shirt that kept the mosquitoes off my legs and arms.

  Sharkey had trouble finding enough soil to bury Rudy, whom he had wrapped in a blanket. “The soil was washed away in the storm,” he said. Finally we discovered a sandy stretch under the sapodilla tree near Sharkey’s place that was deep enough. Jewel stood by as Sharkey pushed a shovel into the sand.

  When we were finished digging, Sharkey placed Rudy gently into his grave. “Farewell, my friend,” Sharkey said in a shaky voice. “You were a good dog.”

  Neither of us spoke as we filled Rudy’s resting place with dirt and sand. When we were through, I placed a palm frond on the site—a kind of memorial flower. “Good-bye, Rudy,” I said. “We’ll miss you.”

  Sharkey just stood there silently by the grave, his eyes closed and his old hat in his hand.

  A little later we headed back to Sharkey’s place, and I glanced back. Jewel was standing by Rudy’s tree. “Come on, Jewel,” I called.

  But Jewel wouldn’t move away from Rudy’s grave.

  26

  CHANGES

  By Thursday after the hurricane, there was talk that the government would cremate the dead that had not been claimed or taken to cemeteries on the mainland. Our Matecumbe Key was a sad, pitiful place, and every moment when I wasn’t giving Sharkey a hand, I searched for Mara.

  No one knew how many people had died, since so many had been swept out to sea. Some were found, cast like seaweed onto the shore, and others were gone forever. I walked by the train that had come too late to rescue the veterans. Scores of men, women, and children had drowned, trapped inside the railroad coaches. We had escaped in the nick of time. And now the Plagier railroad, the eighth wonder of the world, was destroyed.

  Boy Scouts arrived by boat to help carry bodies to a morgue that had been set up. I didn’t know how they could do it. I hung around outside the morgue to see if a redheaded girl around fourteen had been brought in. “There’s no one here by that description,” I was told.

  I scanned the waterfronts several times, looking for a sign of Addie, the Red Cross nurse, hoping she’d bring good news about Mom and Star. But I stayed as far away from the wharves as I could because that’s where many of the dead were waiting to be sent to Miami for burial.

  From the distance I could see the bodies being lifted onto boats. I had heard that my friend Roy was one of them. Each time I thought about him and how we grew up fishing and swimming together, I got a sick feeling in my stomach.

  On Friday morning after the storm I saw the Red Cross boat pull up to a dock, and Addie climbed out and came up onto the shore.

  “How is my mother?” I yelled as I ran up to her. “Did you see my sister?”

  “Yes, Jake,” she answered. “Your mom is recovering nicely from the surgeries, but she’ll be in a brace for a long time. She sends her love, and she wants you in Miami with the family. Your father will be coming to get you in a few days.”

  “What about my sister?” I asked.

  Addie looked serious. “She’s recovering, Jake, but she’s still … disoriented.”

  “Disoriented? What does that mean?” I demanded.

  “She doesn’t respond to anyone or anything— not even your parents. It could be a combination of all that happened—her severe illness plus shock from the hurricane.”

  I felt like my heart dropped down to my toes when she told me that. “Will she get better?”

  “Only time will tell.” Addie must have seen the fear on my face, because she went on to say, “Star is alive, and where there’s life there’s hope. Be thankful you all survived, Jake.”

  “I am thankful, but I can’t help being scared for my sister,” I replied. “Do you visit the hospital in Miami often?”

  “Almost every day,” she answered.

  “I’m looking for a friend—a girl named Mara Lynn Kraynanski. She’s about fourteen and has beautiful long red hair.”

  “I don’t know of anyone who looks like that.” She handed me a pad of paper and a pencil. “Write her name down.” After I printed Mara’s whole name, Addie put the paper in her bag. “I’ll see what I can find out,” she promised.

  Later, when Sharkey and I made rounds about the old neighborhood to aid survivors, Jewel went along obligingly. But she wasn’t the same old Jewel. As soon as we came back to Sharkey’s, she headed for the sapodilla tree next to Rudy’s grave, then stood there with her head hung low.

  That afternoon Billy came over to Sharkey’s place looking for me. It was the first time I’d seen him since the storm. He had a cast on his arm and looked so thin I hardly recognized him. I wasn’t sure just what to say to him about his brother dying, so I just mumbled, “Hey, Billy. How are you doing?”

  “Not good,” he answered. “The doctor said I’m lucky to be alive.” He looked away, and his eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t feel lucky.”

  “I’m real sorry about your brother,” I said softly. “We had good times together. I’ll never forget Roy.”

  “Neither will I.” Billy walked over to the tree where Jewel was standing. “Jewel made it, I see.”

  “Yeah, Jewel made it, but Rudy died. He’s buried there.” I pointed to the grave.

  “He was a good dog.”

  “How about your dog, Ginger?”

  “Ginger is okay,” Billy said. “It’s kind of strange. Roy died and Ginger lived.” Billy stroked Jewel’s head and neck. “I hear your mom and sister are in the hospital.”

  “Mom’s in a brace, but she’ll get better in time. Star doesn’t respond to anybody. I’m real scared for her, Billy.”

  “I hope she’ll be all right. Bessie’s got bruises and cuts, and she’s had bad nightmares, but she’ll be okay. She asked about Star.”

  Sharkey came out and hobbled over to us. He put his arm around Billy’s shoulders. “I’m sorry about your brother. How are you?”

  “As good as I can be.”

  Sharkey petted Jewel’s brown nose, and she leaned her head against his chest. “Jewel knows Rudy’s gone and she’s mourning for him. She never moves away from his grave.”

  I kicked at a coral rock. “I wish she’d go wandering or do something devilish like she used to.”

  The three of us chuckled a little, remembering Jewel’s antics. Then I asked Billy, “Do you know what’s happened to Mara”

  “I don’t know,” Billy answered. “Her aunt died.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much,” I said, recalling Miss Edith’s orange apron swaying in the tree.

  “I came over to say good-bye to you and Sharkey,” Billy said. “We’re going to Miami today. We’re taking Roy to the cemetery there, where there’s a family plot.”

  We were all silent for a moment. Then I asked, “You’ll be back, won’t you?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel the same here without Roy. My dad says our family will never be the same.”

  Sharkey nodded. “The Keys will never be the same, either.”

  Billy shook hands with Sharkey and me and then headed through the brush. “Bye, Sharkey. Bye, Jake,” he said with a wave.

  “Bye, Billy,” we both called.

  We watched as Billy made his way through the brush and debris. He looked older and different, and I knew that the storm had changed something else, too. We weren’t kids anymore.

  27

  UNFINISHED

  Saturday after the hurricane the Red Cross nurse waved to me, and I dashed over to me
et her. “Your mother is coming along well, Jake. And Star is up and around a bit now.”

  “Does she recognize anyone? Does she play or speak?”

  “She seems to recognize your mom and dad. She’s progressing, and in time she may speak again.”

  In time she may speak again? I couldn’t bear to think of my little sister not speaking or begging me to read to her. “What about Mara?” I asked. “Did you find her?”

  “I checked several places. She’s not in Miami, Jake. I’m sorry.”

  After the nurse left, I told Sharkey, “Mara is not in Miami.”

  Sharkey put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Jake, Mara’s gone. It’s time for you to give up searching for your friend and move on. She’d be the first one to tell you that.”

  “But her life was… unfinished,” I argued.

  “So were the lives of the others who died,” Sharkey said. “Unfinished.”

  The mass cremation and a ceremony were to take place near Snake Creek around noon today. It was a few miles up the road to Snake Creek, and the only transportation I had was Jewel hitched up to Sharkey’s wagon. We were going to go, but at the last minute Sharkey’s leg was bothering him, and he decided not to. I felt I should stay nearby in case he needed me.

  Instead I went down to the shore where the church had been. From there I could see Snake Creek to the north. There were many boats heading that way.

  The water was calm, and sounds traveled over the surface. I waited and watched silently. Soon the sound of a bugle playing taps drifted toward me on the breeze. I could see a flash of fire, and I watched as a black spiral of smoke rose into the sky and hung there until it became part of the clouds. Rifle shots pierced the air, and I knew the ceremony was over.

  Mara was not in that cloud. But Mara should have someone remembering her. Why, even Rudy had had a little ceremony at his grave. All those people up there in that black cloud—they had had their memorial, and the word had gotten around that a beautiful monument would be erected in Islamorada in their honor.

  But what about Mara? She had come here with her big smile and her beautiful words and her kind heart. She had said that nothing was ever permanent, and she knew that being here was too good to be true. She whistled that lullaby tune all the time as if trying to hold on to her mother—wherever she was. Now Miss Edith was gone, and there was no family left to acknowledge that Mara had ever been on this earth. She wasn’t among those that were in the cloud. Mara had simply been blown away.

  I needed to do something special for her— something that would say she’d been here and she was important to me.

  In my pocket I had a pencil and pad of paper that had been in a Red Cross package, so I sat on the stump of a tree and began to write a poem for her. I remembered how we had joked about my use of the word “eloquent.” Mara would be happy to know that at least I was trying.

  I wrote my poem as I sat by the water and the black cloud kept rising and melting into the sky. “Unfinished” would be the title.

  I didn’t realize how long I stayed there, trying different words and then crossing them out. The sun moved from the ocean side over the island to the bay, and a wind blew up, capping the water with white foam.

  When I finished, I went to the water’s edge. “Mara, I’m glad Islamorada became your island home, even though it was only for a short time.” I spoke softly in a croaky voice, and my eyes were wet. “My family became your family, Mara, and they’d be here with me if they could. So this is a private ceremony, just between us.

  “I learned a lot from you—about being kind, and about lullaby memories. I’d never noticed how beautiful the sea was until you pointed it out to me. I know the sea will be beautiful again.

  “So I wrote a poem for you. Believe me, it was really hard to write … and it’s not great, because I’m not a poet like you. But it’s for you, Mara, and it’s about you. And the words came right out of my heart.” I cleared my throat and spoke the words of my poem.

  There was no ending to Mara’s song,

  And the melody seemed to be all wrong.

  Her story finished without a plot,

  And all the dreams that she had sought

  Floated away like blue balloons On half-remembered, whistled tunes.

  “I will remember you forever,” I told Mara.

  I ripped the paper into tiny pieces and flung them into the wind, where they skipped above the surface of the water, then scattered and blew away.

  28

  THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WORD

  I ended up staying with Sharkey for more than a month. I kept in touch with my family through Addie, who brought messages to and from Dad.

  Sharkey worked and kept busy even with that bad leg of his. There was something strong about Sharkey that kept me going too.

  But the storm had taken its toll on him. Although he tried to be positive, I knew he was tired and resigned. He didn’t scowl or snarl as he used to, and there were times when I would have been happy to have grumpy old Sharkey back.

  Every so often I’d take a stroll with him when I was sure he didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t walk far with his bad leg, but we’d wander down by the shore near his place and watch for signs that marine life was still okay. He perked up when a manatee swam by.

  “I’m sure glad to see that old fellow,” he said. “Thought for sure he was gone too.”

  One day I asked about the turtle nest. “I wonder if the babies ever made it. Star was so eager to see them when they hatched, but I suppose they got washed away like everything else,” I said sullenly.

  “Jake, turtles have been nesting since time began—long before you and me. And there’ll be turtles and nests and hatchlings long after we’re gone.”

  Jewel stayed around the sapodilla tree where Sharkey had buried Ruby. Jewel never roamed or tried to get away, and her sad eyes looked as if she were weeping. Sharkey often cleaned her eyes with some herbal stuff. I brushed her coat and mane daily. She liked that. She’d lift her chin for me to brush her neck. “You’re such a good girl,” I told her. She nickered softly, but I hadn’t heard her funny bray in a long time.

  The bridges north of us had finally been repaired, and one morning while Sharkey and I were eating breakfast—dry cereal that the Red Cross had handed out along with other supplies for survivors—we heard a familiar voice.

  “Hey!” Dad appeared suddenly from behind Sharkey’s hut.

  “Dad!” I jumped up and ran to meet him. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”

  “I thought it was time to get you back to Miami with us.” Dad gave me a hug. “We’ve missed you, Jake.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Dad. How did you get here?”

  “Red Cross got me a used car, and as soon as the bridges were fixed, I had to come down right away.” Dad had a mischievous smile. “I have a surprise for you, Jake!” He beckoned to someone who must have been waiting in back of the house.

  To my astonishment Mom shuffled toward me, walking unsteadily with crutches, smiling and crying at the same time. I went to her and she dropped a crutch to put her arm around my shoulders. As I held her, I could feel the stiff cast from her neck to her waist. “I feel like Jewel must when she wears a harness,” she said.

  “Mom,” was all I could say, because I didn’t want to cry like a little kid. I hugged and kissed her gently. She was so thin and pale, it seemed she could break in two.

  “Thanks for taking care of my boy,” Mom said to Sharkey.

  “Oh, he’s taken care of me!” Sharkey said. “Don’t know how I would have made it without him.”

  “Look who else is here,” Dad said.

  I turned and saw Star standing quietly by, sucking her thumb. “Star!” I bent down and drew her close to me. “My little twinkle star,” I whispered as she snuggled into my arms. “She remembers me,” I mouthed to my mother and father.

  “It seems like she does,” Dad whispered. “It’s hard to tell.”

&
nbsp; She was as cute as ever in her blue overalls and white sneakers. Her blond hair was now cropped short, and tiny curls framed her face. With her rosy cheeks and sturdy body, she could have been a poster for a perfectly healthy child. But when I looked into her eyes and recognized that empty stare, an awful, sick feeling washed over me again.

  We all sat down at the picnic table Sharkey had built from scraps. “I have something for you, Star,” Sharkey said, and he reached into the workbox he kept nearby. He pulled out one of the objects he’d whittled over the past several weeks.

  “Remember the baby turtles, Star?” he asked as he handed it to her. “Here’s one for you to keep.”

  Star took the beautifully carved little sculpture and turned it over and over in her hand. But she said nothing.

  “Jake! I’m back!”

  We looked around as Billy Ashburn, carrying a heavy basket, made his way through the broken bushes.

  “Hi, Billy!” I exclaimed. “Come see my folks.”

  “How are you and your family, Billy?” Mom asked.

  “They’re doing as well as they can,” Billy answered. “Bessie asks for Star all the time.”

  “We haven’t been home since the storm,” Dad said.

  “We decided to come back, too,” Billy said. “Couldn’t wait once the bridges were repaired.” He joined us and placed the basket on the ground by the picnic table. I could hear high-pitched yelps coming from inside. “Whatcha got in there?” I asked curiously.

  “Something for Sharkey and Jewel,” Billy said with a grin.

  Whatever was in the basket was eager to get out, because it was squeaking and scratching, and the lid was popping up and down.

  Billy opened the cover, and a dark red puppy peeked out. He lifted the wiggly little dog and handed it to Sharkey. “She’s from our dog, Ginger. Rudy was her papa. We wanted you to have this puppy, Sharkey.”

  “She looks just like Rudy!” Sharkey said as he cradled the pup in his arms. The puppy wiggled constantly—then lifted her head and licked Sharkey’s face all over. For the first time since the storm Sharkey laughed out loud—a real belly laugh. “Hey, Jewel, look what we have here!” He carried the pup to Jewel, who was standing beneath the sapodilla tree, and held it up to her. Jewel sniffed at the squealing puppy, then let out her loud horse-donkey honk.