Because of Winn-Dixie - Kate DiCamillo [26]
Me and the preacher looked for a long time; and finally, he said we had to quit.
“But Daddy,” I said, “Winn-Dixie’s out there somewhere. We can’t leave him.”
“Opal,” the preacher said, “we have looked and looked, and there’s only so much looking we can do.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to give up,” I told him.
“India Opal,” the preacher said, rubbing his nose, “don’t argue with me.”
I stood and stared at him. The rain had let up some. It was mostly a drizzle now.
“It’s time to head back,” the preacher said.
“No,” I told him. “You go ahead and go, but I’m going to keep on looking.”
“Opal,” the preacher said in a real soft voice, “it’s time to give up.”
“You always give up!” I shouted. “You’re always pulling your head inside your stupid old turtle shell. I bet you didn’t even go out looking for my mama when she left. I bet you just let her run off, too.”
“Baby,” the preacher said. “I couldn’t stop her. I tried. Don’t you think I wanted her to stay, too? Don’t you think I miss her every day?” He spread his arms out wide and then dropped them to his sides. “I tried,” he said. “I tried.” Then he did something I couldn’t believe.
He started to cry. The preacher was crying. His shoulders were moving up and down. And he was making snuffly noises. “And don’t believe that losing Winn-Dixie doesn’t upset me as much as it does you,” he said. “I love that dog. I love him, too.”
“Daddy,” I said. I went and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was crying so hard he was shaking. “It’s all right,” I told him. “It’s okay. Shhhhh,” I said to him like he was a scared little kid. “Everything will be okay.”
We stood there hugging and rocking back and forth, and after a while the preacher stopped shaking and I still held on to him; and I finally got the nerve to ask the question I wanted to ask.
“Do you think she’s ever going to come back?” I whispered.
“No,” the preacher said. “No, I do not. I’ve hoped and prayed and dreamed about it for years. But I don’t think she’ll ever come back.”
“Gloria says that you can’t hold on to anything. That you can only love what you’ve got while you’ve got it.”
“She’s right,” the preacher said. “Gloria Dump is right.”
“I’m not ready to let Winn-Dixie go,” I said. I had forgotten about him for a minute, what with thinking about my mama.
“We’ll keep looking,” said the preacher. “The two of us will keep looking for him. But do you know what? I just realized something, India Opal. When I told you your mama took everything with her, I forgot one thing, one very important thing that she left behind.”
“What?” I asked.
“You,” he said. “Thank God your mama left me you.” And he hugged me tighter.
“I’m glad I’ve got you, too,” I told him. And I meant it. I took hold of his hand, and we started walking back into town, calling and whistling for Winn-Dixie the whole way.
We heard the music before we even got to Gloria Dump’s house. We heard it almost a block away. It was guitar-playing and singing and clapping.
“I wonder what’s going on?” my father said.
We walked up Gloria’s sidewalk and around back, through her yard and into her kitchen. What we saw was Otis playing his guitar, and Miss Franny and Gloria sitting there smiling and singing, and Gloria holding Sweetie Pie in her lap. Amanda and Dunlap and Stevie were sitting on the kitchen floor, clapping along and having the best possible time. Even Amanda was smiling. I couldn’t believe they were so happy when Winn-Dixie was missing.
“We didn’t find him,” I shouted at them.
The music stopped and Gloria Dump looked at me and said, “Child, we know you didn’t find him. You didn’t find him because he was right here all along.