Read Online Baby by Patricia MacLachlan - Free Book Online Page A

before she disappeared inside shereached over Julia’s back and held out her hand to Papa. A small fist. Beside me Papa’s hand did paper, scissors, back to her. It was then that Sophie smiled.

chapter 16
    We walked up the hill in silence, through the field, past the pond where the wind sent ripples across the water. Even Lalo didn’t talk. The wind caught Byrd’s hat once, and Papa grabbed it. He handed it back without words.
    The house was cool. The smell of dead ashes hung in the air. Papa went to the fireplace and stood there, looking down as if waiting for the fire to blaze again. Mama took off her hat and leaned against the front door, staring into the room. Byrd bent down and picked up a book. Sophie’s book. Byrd straightened.
    “We are going to talk now,” she said softly.
    Papa turned. “Not now,” he said. His face had the look of his business face, but his voice was thin, like a thread of smoke.
    Mama took off her coat and walked to her studio door.
    “You cannot walk away and leave this behind as if it never happened,” said Byrd. She paused. “Like the baby.”
    Mama stopped. Papa stared at Byrd. I stared too. And then the ferry whistle blew, a terrible soft sound behind the closed door. Papa flinched, and in that moment his business look was gone.
    It was quiet when the sound ended, and I could hear Lalo breathing beside me.
    “That’s
why we’re going to talk,” said Byrd softly.
    Mama’s face changed then. She looked transparent, as if all her feelings were there right under her skin. I heard the front door opening and closing, and when I turned Lalo had left.
    “Come. Sit down,” said Byrd. Her voice had changed, and it sounded almost friendly, like a pleasant invitation.
    No one moved.
    “I’ll sit, then,” said Byrd. “I’m old,” she added.
    Byrd moved to the straight chair by the fireplace. She looked at me.
    “If we talk about Sophie, we can talk about Larkin’s brother who died. The baby she never saw. The baby with no name.”
    I walked across the room and sat on the couch.
    “Words,” Byrd said.
    She smiled slightly and I gathered courage from that.
    “Even
Sophie
had words,” I said.
    Papa studied me for a moment, then he looked at Mama across the room. He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it for a long time. He went over and took Mama’s hand.
    “Words, Lily,” he whispered to her. “Not painting. Not dancing.
Words
.” Mama was so quiet, like a statue that might break apart if it were touched.
    Papa put his arm around her. He looked at me. Then he began to speak.
    “His eyes were dark blue, Larkin,” he said softly. “So dark, but bright at the same time. Like stars,” he whispered.
    I stared at Papa. Byrd moved a little beside me.
    Mama looked up at Papa. “His hands,” she said softly. “His hands had long fingers, like Larkin’s. And he had a serious, thoughtful look.”
    I looked out the window and I could see the distant smoke from the ferry. Then Mama came to sit by me. And in the cool still room, as the ferry took Sophie away, we named the baby William.

    It had been warm in the cemetery, the late afternoon sun low in the sky. Light slanted over us and the gravestones, making us all look the same, stones and people. The only sound was the sound of waves on the outer beach, waves one after the other, like heartbeats.
    Everyone had come and gone; Griffey and Rollie and the boys who had played a song, Dr. Fortunato, Ms. Minifred and Rebel, who had put a rose on the small gravestone that had W ILLIAM engraved on it. And Lalo, who had cried. Byrd had cried, too, when Papa said his words about William.
    “I wish I could have danced with him,” he said.
    Mama had put her arms around Byrd, and they had stood there in that light as everyone went down the hill.
    Afterward, we walked home through town, past the stores and houses.
    “Will we see her again?” I asked Byrd. “Sophie?”
    No one looked surprised. Papa smiled at me. It was easier