The Kahills of Willow Walk
Excerpt from Chapter Two
The bus eased to a stop in the terminal. Dawson stood and looked out the window. He spied Mama Suzanne and Kat straining their necks—they must be trying to find him through the tinted glass. He wanted to holler at the bus driver to hurry and open the door.
Tears stung his eyes. He was home. Nothing could hurt him now.
After what seemed like forever, the door swung open. He bypassed the step down and jumped to the ground. Mama Suzanne’s arms wrapped around him and closed him inside. He rested his head on her shoulder. Now he could cry.
“Daw, it’s my turn. It’s my turn.” Kat jumped up and down, tugging on his shirttail. He’d thought he would never hear her little girl voice again.
They hugged, they kissed, they chatted all the way home. He didn’t tell them about Polly Dee. He couldn’t.
Why hadn’t he stayed to help her? The thought had nagged at
him all the way home on the bus. But he’d called to let his dad know, hadn’t he? Dad would know what to do. That didn’t make him a coward, did it? Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced the image of her lying on the floor from his mind. He’d worry about it later. And someday he’d return Polly’s money he took from the coffee can to buy his bus ticket home.
But for now he was safe. The green hills and valleys of his hometown never looked so good. Nobody would ever take him away again, most of all not his father.
Dashing into the house, he took the stairs two at a time. His room was just as he’d left it. He glanced in the mirror on his dresser. Somehow he appeared older. Smarter, too. Forget Mexico. Forget the way his dad had changed into an evil giant and the dumb things Polly tried to do. Forget the whole mess. He’d be okay now.
“Daw, hurry! Let’s go to our tree!”
He flew down the stairs. “Come on, sis.” He grabbed her hand. Together they ran out the door and down the grassy hill to the white board fence across the dirt road. Dawson lifted her over.
Out of breath but not out of talk, she cocked her head toward him.
“I don’t know something, Daw. How come you’re my brother, but Mama Suzanne isn’t your mama?”
“Well…that’s because we’re half-brother and sister.” He landed beside her and mulled it over. “We have the same daddy.”
“Oh. You mean half of you is my brother, and half of me is your sister?”
“Something like that.”
Holding hands, they ambled through a field full of clover. She frowned, tilting her head from side to side. Did she understand? He couldn’t be sure.
On the way to their secret hiding place under the weeping willow, Dawson told her about Mexico, but only things he thought a six-year-old should know.
“You know something, Daw? I missed you every day you were gone.” She swept a strand of hair from her face and dug in her pocket, handing him a tiny photo of her blowing a kiss from her fingertips.
Dawson looked at the delicate frame covered in colorful plastic butterflies. She looked like a princess, smiling from it at him like no one else ever could.
“You like it?”
“Sure do. I’ll keep it always. Thanks, Kat.”
She stopped jumping up and down and beamed as he bent down to kiss her cheek.
By the time they reached their secret place, Kat had run out of words. But she could have talked all day, and it wouldn’t have bothered him.
In the cool green meadow, they sat under the weeping willow, side by side, where no adults could enter. Hundreds of yellow meadow butterflies circled them.
They took tiny, quiet breaths, afraid of shooing the butterflies away. The little flying creatures landed all over them—on their heads and arms and faces. When they couldn’t stand the tickling any longer, they burst out laughing and fell back on the grass.
“Oh, Daw. We got lots of butterfly kisses, didn’t we?” Kat giggled. “Here’s one from me. Catch it now.” She kissed her fingertips and blew on the palm of her hand.
He grabbed at the air, put his fingers to his cheek, and smiled. “I got it. Here’s yours.”
Except for the meadowlark’s call echoing over the hill and valley, silence surrounded them.
It was so good to be home.
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