Читать книгу The Moment Keeper - Buffy Andrews - Страница 17

“There she is!” Olivia yells.

Olivia, six, is dressed in her blue Cinderella gown with tulle petticoat. A bejeweled heart-shaped cameo accents the bodice.

She runs toward Cinderella Castle at Disney World and her beaded tiara with glitter organza ribbon flies off. Elizabeth picks up the tiara and places it back on Olivia’s head.

Olivia gets in line behind two girls.

Olivia loves Disney World. Her parents take her every year. She loves seeing the princesses and getting their autographs. Elizabeth always makes her a keepsake album that includes all their favorite photos. Several albums line the bottom shelf of the bookcase in Olivia’s room. One of Olivia’s prized possessions is a pink lanyard covered with collectible Disney pins. She has dozens of them.

Cinderella is her favorite character. She always eats breakfast and dinner with Cinderella in Cinderella’s castle. And she usually stops by the Crystal Palace at the end of Main Street for breakfast with Pooh and his friends and at Chef Mickey’s at the Contemporary Resort for dinner with Mickey, Minnie and their friends. It’s always a whirlwind week full of laughter and love and happiness. Wonderful moments to record.

I’ve never been to Disney World. I always wanted to go. I remember when I was in first grade and Tracey Carmichael came back from a trip to Disney World with a carriage-load of souvenirs. She brought them in for show and tell, a new thing each week. There were Minnie Mouse ears, a Cinderella dress and matching purse, a Snow White umbrella, jewelry and T-shirts and pens and pencils and markers. Oh, and a mug for the teacher and lollipops for everyone in the class. Everyone liked Tracey. And they liked her more when she gave them treats.

I remember asking Grandma if we could go to Disney and see Cinderella as Tracey did.

“And she had breakfast in Cinderella’s castle,” I said. “And there were fireworks and Tinkerbell flew down from the sky.”

“She did?” Grandma said.

I nodded like Tracey’s Mickey bobble head that she let everyone hold — everyone except me. She said that I was too clumsy, recalling the time I tripped over the carpet while carrying the classroom goldfish and dropped it on the floor. The fish died.

“Yeah, and Tracey said she got real pixie dust.”

For the next several months, I bugged Grandma about going to Disney World. Tracey Carmichael wasn’t the only one who went that year. Alex and Michael Deamer went and Katelyn White got to go, too.

Then one winter day Grandma said she had a surprise. We were going to see Mickey and Minnie and Pluto and Goofy and the rest of the Disney gang. But, she quickly added, we weren’t going to Disney World.

I had seen Grandma put change in the empty red coffee container she kept in the cabinet near the sink. She explained that she had been saving money for a year to take me to see the Disney on Ice show coming to the area.

“I know it’s not Disney World,” Grandma said. “But you’ll get to see the characters and you might even get their autographs.”

I was so excited I could barely sleep that night. I kept checking the small glass container of pixie dust Grandma had given me when she told me about the show. I sat it on my nightstand when I went to bed. Looking back, it was probably a mixture of very fine blue and silver glitter. But to me, at that age, it was the real deal.

Just like Tinkerbell, Grandma had spread her magic dust and I was flying higher than I ever thought possible. Not even Tracey Carmichael could bring me down.

Tom watches Olivia get off the bus in front of their house. They live in a gated community with manicured lawns and colorful gardens; many have waterfalls and gazebos. Olivia skips toward Tom, her blonde pigtails bouncing and her pink princess backpack swinging from side to side.

Tom opens his arms and Olivia runs into them.

“I got a surprise for you,” Tom says.

A smile erupts on Olivia’s face, dusted with light freckles.

“Come with me.”

Tom takes Olivia’s hand and leads her to the patio behind the house where Elizabeth stands with a video recorder.

Olivia’s eyes pop and she jumps up and down when she sees the pink sparkly bike with “Princess” printed on the crossbar. “Is it mine?”

“All yours,” Tom says.

Olivia drops her backpack and climbs onto the seat and starts to pedal.

“Wait,” Tom yells. “You never ever get on a bike without this.”

He holds up a pink sparkly helmet and puts it on Olivia, adjusting the straps to make sure it fits tightly.

“Promise me you’ll always wear a helmet,” Tom says. “I just had a patient the other day who was hurt because he didn’t wear a helmet.”

Olivia knows from the tone of her daddy’s voice that he is serious and means what he says. She doesn’t often hear that tone, but when she does she knows she must pay attention.

“I promise,” says Olivia, pedaling in a circle around the patio.

“Emma rides without wheels,” Olivia says.

“We’ll take the training wheels off when you think you’re ready to ride without them,” Tom explains.

Olivia follows Tom to the front of the house and he walks while she rides on the sidewalk down to the stop sign and back. After a few times down and back, Olivia gets brave and wants to go around the block. So, Tom takes her around the block, breaking a sweat as he runs to keep up with her.

I’ll never forget my first bike. Someone had put it out for trash pickup and Grandma and I saw it on our way home from the grocery outlet.

Grandma pulled over to the curb next to the Hulk bike.

“What do you think, Sarah? Some new paint and a new seat and we’ll have this bike looking as good as that bike you saw in the store.”

“Are we allowed?”

“Sure we can take it,” Grandma said. “These folks don’t care. They want to get rid of it. Doesn’t matter to them how that happens, whether it’s the garbage men or us.”

Grandma popped the trunk on the old Chevy and lifted the bike. I saw a woman watching from the window as Grandma eased the bike into the trunk then slammed it shut.

By the end of the week, Grandma had that bike looking better than any store-bought one. She painted it pink and added a pink and silver sparkly seat, a water-bottle holder and a bell. She even found a pink plastic basket with flowers to put on the front so I could haul stuff.

“Oh, Grandma,” I said. “It’s the best bike ever.”

When I rode down the sidewalk, I felt like a peacock presenting his feathers. Kids playing in yards pointed as I rode by and I rang my bell. I was happy. I had a new bike. And it was better than anyone else’s bike. I was certain of that.