against each other; spoons tap the rims of coffee cups. The ladies iron out their used sheets of aluminum foil, fold them, save them for another day. Perhaps tomorrow, when they gather again. Everyone is worrying Elizabeth may have drowned in the river. As sad as it is to consider, that’s what they are thinking. And because they fade away when Julia passes among them, it’s also clear they are wondering how Julia will ever live with what she has done. After all that Julia has already been through, how ever will she manage the strain?
CHAPTER SIX
W hile the adults spent the day at the church, Arie and Izzy stayed inside like they promised. Mostly they stayed in their room and looked out the window onto Alder Avenue, hoping to see something, anything. Down on Woodward, the hum of traffic built as the day wore on, and the faster the traffic soared by and the more cars that piled up, the louder the hum became and the more Arie and Izzy felt themselves left behind. When, after an entire afternoon, they saw nothing down on Alder except a few cars and one stray dog, they gave up on the window and plugged in their record player. Sitting like a small black suitcase on the end of Izzy’s bed, it had been waiting for the girls when they first arrived at Aunt Julia’s house. A gift for both of them. Propped up next to the small case had been a Tune Tote carrier filled with 45s. All afternoon, Arie spun those records, always especially careful when she lifted the needle at the end of a song so as to not scratch the vinyl. She wanted the music to last. Not that she really cared much for the records. None of her favorites were inside the pink carrying case anyway. It was mostly full of Peggy Lee and Frank Sinatra. What Arie did care about was making Izzy happy again so she didn’t do anything to cross Uncle Bill and Aunt Julia.
Song after song, Arie rolled the small knob on the record player, making the music louder and louder so Izzy would dance and spin and stop thinking about Elizabeth and their lost cat. Izzy had been sulking ever since Uncle Bill made them cross their hearts and swear to stay inside and not go searching. But listening to records, no matter how loudly, did not make Izzy forget and they did not make her happy, and what Arie feared all day finally happened after Uncle Bill checked in for the last time. He said he and Aunt Julia would be back home in an hour or so and that Izzy and Arie should behave until then. Even before Uncle Bill was out the door, Arie knew Izzy had a plan.
“Who’ll ever know?” Izzy says. “It’s dark now. No one’ll see us and we’ll be back long before Uncle Bill and Aunt Julia come home. We’ll look for Elizabeth, but we might find Patches, too. Happens all the time. Animals follow their people all the way across the country, so why not to the other side of Woodward? Street’s so quiet, we just might find them both.”
Arie agrees only when Izzy threatens to go with or without her. Together, they slip on their sneakers in case they have to do some running and decide to leave the house through the kitchen door. Less noticeable than the front. Arie goes first and Izzy follows, letting the screen slap shut. Arie scolds her with a shake of her head, but before she can follow up with a reminder to be quiet, Izzy yanks her down the stairs. They run across the backyard, brightly lit because Aunt Julia made sure both the front and back porch lights were switched on and that both bulbs were fresh. She didn’t want one burning out when they were most needed. They run until they reach the shadows thrown by Uncle Bill’s garage, Izzy dragging Arie all the way, and once there, they flatten themselves against the rough siding. Both breathe deeply. Their chests pound up and down, not so much from the long run, because it wasn’t so long, but because sneaking outside and running into the dark and listening for any sound at all on the empty street and hearing not one thing are all scary
CHAPTER SIX
W hile the adults spent the day at the church, Arie and Izzy stayed inside like they promised. Mostly they stayed in their room and looked out the window onto Alder Avenue, hoping to see something, anything. Down on Woodward, the hum of traffic built as the day wore on, and the faster the traffic soared by and the more cars that piled up, the louder the hum became and the more Arie and Izzy felt themselves left behind. When, after an entire afternoon, they saw nothing down on Alder except a few cars and one stray dog, they gave up on the window and plugged in their record player. Sitting like a small black suitcase on the end of Izzy’s bed, it had been waiting for the girls when they first arrived at Aunt Julia’s house. A gift for both of them. Propped up next to the small case had been a Tune Tote carrier filled with 45s. All afternoon, Arie spun those records, always especially careful when she lifted the needle at the end of a song so as to not scratch the vinyl. She wanted the music to last. Not that she really cared much for the records. None of her favorites were inside the pink carrying case anyway. It was mostly full of Peggy Lee and Frank Sinatra. What Arie did care about was making Izzy happy again so she didn’t do anything to cross Uncle Bill and Aunt Julia.
Song after song, Arie rolled the small knob on the record player, making the music louder and louder so Izzy would dance and spin and stop thinking about Elizabeth and their lost cat. Izzy had been sulking ever since Uncle Bill made them cross their hearts and swear to stay inside and not go searching. But listening to records, no matter how loudly, did not make Izzy forget and they did not make her happy, and what Arie feared all day finally happened after Uncle Bill checked in for the last time. He said he and Aunt Julia would be back home in an hour or so and that Izzy and Arie should behave until then. Even before Uncle Bill was out the door, Arie knew Izzy had a plan.
“Who’ll ever know?” Izzy says. “It’s dark now. No one’ll see us and we’ll be back long before Uncle Bill and Aunt Julia come home. We’ll look for Elizabeth, but we might find Patches, too. Happens all the time. Animals follow their people all the way across the country, so why not to the other side of Woodward? Street’s so quiet, we just might find them both.”
Arie agrees only when Izzy threatens to go with or without her. Together, they slip on their sneakers in case they have to do some running and decide to leave the house through the kitchen door. Less noticeable than the front. Arie goes first and Izzy follows, letting the screen slap shut. Arie scolds her with a shake of her head, but before she can follow up with a reminder to be quiet, Izzy yanks her down the stairs. They run across the backyard, brightly lit because Aunt Julia made sure both the front and back porch lights were switched on and that both bulbs were fresh. She didn’t want one burning out when they were most needed. They run until they reach the shadows thrown by Uncle Bill’s garage, Izzy dragging Arie all the way, and once there, they flatten themselves against the rough siding. Both breathe deeply. Their chests pound up and down, not so much from the long run, because it wasn’t so long, but because sneaking outside and running into the dark and listening for any sound at all on the empty street and hearing not one thing are all scary
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