Читать книгу Tidal Flats - Cynthia Newberry Martin - Страница 17

7

A couple of days later, Cass made time to call Goodwill about Lois’s red shoes. The woman she spoke to said she would see what she could do, and Cass could tell by her questions she really would try to find them. Lois’s son could only describe the closets and drawers of stuff he hadn’t even gotten to yet. He felt bad, he said, but he had to draw the line somewhere.

Cass wanted to go look for the shoes herself, but somewhere in the stack of papers in front of her were forms for the state that had a deadline. This kind of mess made her feel as if she had no control over anything. She’d just started making piles when Natalie Merchant’s voice rang out. Cass looked up. Yes, she thought. Music. And just like that, the papers in front of her seemed less of a chore.

But she heard Ella shouting to turn it down. Atta must have complained. Scooting back her chair, Cass was about to head upstairs when the phone rang. For a second, she just stared at it—the phone had not been her friend lately—but then she picked up.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “You didn’t answer your cell.”

She didn’t even know where it was. “It’s busy here today.” Outside, the wind was picking up. All around her, tree branches were waving, as if they, too, were trying to get her attention.

“How’s it going with the fund-raising?”

“Still just sitting with it. But I’m almost ready to start. Any minute. I can feel it.”

“That’s why I called. I just talked to Setara. Take a look at GoFundMe. She’s set up an account to help us raise money for the cameras we need for the Afghans.”

Cass tried to listen, and usually, she could file the Afghan Woman away, but Setara was with Ethan when Cass was not, in a place where danger was everywhere. The longer Ethan talked—explaining how a GoFundMe account could help her raise money for Howell—and although he never said it, the more she understood.

He was going back.

She could barely lift her foot to the next red-carpeted step. In the upstairs hall, Ella was putting clean towels into the armoire. Music was still coming from May’s room. Cass knocked and went in. May smiled—a huge smile.

“I don’t have to ask what you’re listening to,” Cass said. “Over and over again.” May was rocking back and forth. “Life is so sweet.”

Life is hard was the verse that stuck with Cass.

“I only understand half of what she’s saying, but it doesn’t matter. It’s her voice, the music, the piano, the way it builds. It lifts me up.” May closed her eyes.

And Cass closed hers, trying to hear what May heard. At first, she felt weighted to her spot by the plane that would carry Ethan back to Afghanistan and Howell’s empty bank account and the piles of paperwork. She did bruise easily … But as she listened, gradually she heard only the music and May’s humming and she began to sway and Cass thought how she’d like to turn the music up even louder and for one second, just one flash of chill on her skin, she thought she’d like to twirl around the room. But she opened her eyes and remembered where she was.