Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [45]
Everything in the greenhouse was blooming like nobody’s business, as if spring had come early. Buds opened, tiny and soft baby pink, ready to burst into small hot-pink blossoms with deep-red centers any day now.
“Phlox paniculata, the bright-eyed garden phlox,” I said out loud.
And suddenly, there in the stillness, I knew. I knew something had happened, something magical and real at the same time. And it was because of me.
I drifted into Mo’s little alcove. There, on the table beside the comfy chair, was a piece of paper. I thought at first that it was a journal page from The Book of Dreams. I picked it up. It was a printout of an e-mail.
I know you’re not supposed to read other people’s letters, but I couldn’t help myself. I swear the letter jumped into my hand!
Dear MoMo,
I have been thinking about the terrible argument we had on my fourteenth birthday. I was so mad that I wanted to run away, but instead, I took the thing that I knew you cherished most—the Singing Stone—and that night I dreamed myself to Aventurine.
When I got to the place where the Agminium grow, I threw the Singing Stone at the rocks as hard as I could. It broke into two pieces; one fell between the rocks, and the other fell into the water. The wind died down, clouds gathered over the sun, and the humming sounds of nature stopped as if they’d been turned off.
My remorse was immediate. My shame was complete. At that moment I changed my mind, but all I could do was to save the half of the stone nearest me as I felt myself disappearing from Aventurine.
I felt emptiness, loss, and I wanted to take back what I had done. But it was too late. I could tell that I would not be able to go back again.
I know that in many ways it is too late now. But, MoMo, I want to try and make it better. Not just for me, but for Birdie and you and Michael. I am glad that Birdie is there.
I’m coming home, too.
Love,
Emma
I sat staring at that letter for a long time, reading it over and over. In one way, I was furious, but the more I read my mother’s words, the more my anger turned to sadness.
My mother had given up her place in the great Arbor Lineage adventure. She had made her decision. My mother would never be a fairy godmother, would never have the magic that I could feel inside me now.
I slowly got up and went to the table to pick up Belle. I tucked her inside Mo’s green coat and made my way slowly through the snowy garden toward Mo’s house—where Mo must have been all along.
I stepped inside the kitchen to find Mother and Mo sitting at the kitchen table. I was so surprised that I nearly dropped Belle. They didn’t even notice the blast of cold air, because my mom was crying. I couldn’t remember ever seeing my mother cry before, and it shook me up.
“What’s wrong?” I cried.
“Oh, Birdie!” my mother said. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me. I could feel her sobs even through the green coat.
“Is Dad okay?” I asked into her shoulder—it was the only reason I could think of for her crying.
Mom held me away from her and looked me right in the eye. She shook her head and made a little sniffly-giggly sound. “Everyone’s okay,” she said. “Everyone’s okay. I love you, Birdie, my sweet pea.”
Hearing her call me sweet pea made me cry—she hadn’t called me that since I couldn’t even remember!
Mo got up and put her arms around both of us, and we all sniffled away for a little while.
It felt so good.
“Well,” said Mo finally, pulling back. “Isn’t this grand! Now that Birdie’s here, I’ll put some more water on to boil.”
That gave my mom a chance to pull herself together and me a chance to take off my boots and jacket and find a spot for Belle on the windowsill.
“Go on, Emma,” said Mo to my mom. “Finish what you were saying earlier. Then we’ll hear what Birdie’s been up to.” Mo winked at me.
“Do you want to hear this, too, Birdie?” Mom asked.
I nodded vigorously.
“Well, as I was telling MoMo, I don’t know when I stopped believing. Believing, well, what we believe in this family,” my