Wild Thing

Chapter 8: My Cross to Bear

One of the joys of having a woman like Aunt Mae in the family is that she's always looking out for my best interest. Well, that and she's usually always right. Especially about matters pertaining to the heart. After she gave me mine back, mended and whole, I reclined in the backseat and pondered over what she had told me while looking out the window and taking in the painfully familiar sights of Houston.

Even in the daytime, the city was a flurry of activity and bright lights. Everywhere I looked I saw vendors, flashy billboards, and tall skyscrapers. It was all very beautiful, but nothing compared to the comforts of a mug of hot cider on a cold night in the country. Some of my most fondest memories are from sitting on the porch swing, rocking back and forth, while watching for shooting stars and drinking such warm delicious delights.

It hasn't even been a day and I'm already home sick.

Home. What a beautiful word.

The buildings pass before my eyes, one after the other, in a kaleidoscope of colors and unrecognizable faces. Had I blinked for only a moment, I would've missed out on the remarkable experience of seeing one of the most beautiful libraries I've ever come across. It stood tall and regal, surrounded by a sea of businesses. Like a rare rose planted among a garden of wilted dandelions.

Julia Ideson Public Library.

I was never allowed to go, but sometimes Rachael would smuggle in a few books for me to read when she could. Paddington Bear, Wayside Stories from Westside School, and Harriet the Spy. All such wonderful stories that came from an extraordinary library.

The day that Rachael was taken, we had been sneaking in time here and there to read Matilda. We had just gotten to the part where Matilda met her first friend, Lavender. I remember telling Rachael that one day I would name my daughter Lavender. To this day I still have the book. I've been shuffling it in secret from one location to another, never having the heart to finish it. The memories of hiding under the covers at night with a flashlight, just Rachael and me, were too real and painful for me to continue reading our shared treasure. It wouldn't be the same without her.

Sometimes I think to myself, did the library ever figure out it was missing? Were they curious about what happened to its temporary owner?

I never realized until now just how many risks Rachael took to provide for me a semi-normal childhood. I hope one day I'll have the courage to finish the book Matilda and maybe, just maybe, return it to it's rightful place in that library.

At long last we reach our destination. The drive seemed to take forever, but the digital clock on the front dash board assures me it has only been about twenty-five minutes.

I step out of the air conditioned car that had provided me shade and into the shining sun. There's the Texas that I remember. The infamous heat wave washes over me and already I can feel the perspiration beading my hairline and neck.

Thankfully, we only have to haul our luggage up two flights of stairs to get to our apartment building.

Once inside, I immediately head to the box on the wall to flip the switch controlling the air conditioner. Surprisingly, I find that it's already been turned on. No wonder the 3-bedroom apartment already feels so refreshingly cool. I collapse onto the couch in the living room, close my eyes, and focus on relaxing each of my individually tensed muscles.

Aunt Mae wants to unpack her suitcase now, but I'll worry about mine when we get back from the courthouse. We have to be there in two hours and seeing as how I'm still covered in dried blood, I know a shower will be in order.

"Miss. Calvinson?"

I barely open my eyes and peer at the Marshal.

I groan, "Please Ted, if you're going to be my protection detail, then I insist you call me Lily."