Free Tin Lily by Joann Swanson Page B

out and lets the words he wants to say go with it. “What are you doing now?”
    “Walking.”
    He laughs a little through the concern, through the guilt that he’s why I almost choked to death in front of the dancing fountains. “I mean, are you headed home?”
    Nod. “To Aunt Margie’s.”
    “Would you like to go to Pike’s Place with me?”
    I stop walking. “Why?”
    “Well, I’m headed down there and it’s a nice day and I thought you might want to come with.” He waves one arm around like he’s a tour guide. “I could show you our fair emerald city, starting with Pike’s where you can, you know, buy a fish or whatever.”
    “Do I seem like I need a fish?”
    “Everyone should totally have a fish of their own.”
    I think about walking around with Nick-the-stranger, all the people, the bees coming along anytime they feel like it, making me head on into the quiet like there aren’t better places to be. “Thank you,” I say. “I’d rather not today.”
    Nick looks surprised, like no one’s ever refused his company before. “Do you think I could have your number?” He shuffles his feet and waves one hand around. “Just in case I want to send you a fish or something.”
    “I don’t know it.” Margie thinks I’ve memorized her home number and my new cell number. I tried, but there’s no room inside for numbers.
    “Will you be back next week?” he asks.
    “Yes.”
    “Can I meet you right here at say—” He looks at his watch. “Two o’clock?”
    “I’ll have to see what kind of day it is. I can’t say for sure.”
    “What kind of day?”
    “Yes.” I spy Margie driving down the road and take three more steps. “Nice meeting you,” I mumble because I don’t know what else to say.
    Margie pulls up and I climb in. Nick is still standing there and he’s got a big grin on his face. I wonder if he’s like the boys in my old school who laughed at me.
    It used to matter, the laughing.
    It doesn’t anymore.
     

 
Seven
     
    Days go by like they’re minutes, like they’re seconds. I read and I only think about the very next thing I have to do. Get out of bed. Take a shower. Eat breakfast. Watch for Hank. Listen for the bees. Answer the phone.
    I feel a tug at the first ring, but don’t disappear. It’s not like our old phone—loud and shrill. Margie’s phone is quiet, newer. Fancy.
    “Hello?”
    “Is this Lily Berkenshire?” The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it.
    “Yes it is.”
    “Lily, this is Officer Archie. Do you remember me?”
    I see hair that won’t shine in the sun, soft eyes, a nice smile. “Yes, I remember.”
    “I’m calling to see how you are.”
    “I’m doing okay. How are you?”
    He pauses, then laughs a little. “Well, I’m fine, thank you.”
    There’s a long silence that’s probably awkward. I wonder if he’s going to tell me they’ve found Hank, found him in Seattle with white and orange cat hairs on his black shirt.
    “In our investigation we found something. A letter.”
    The knot in my chest pounds like it hasn’t in awhile. “A letter?”
    “Yes, from your mother.”
    My hands shake so bad the phone knocks me in the head. Whack. “To who?” Whack. Whack.
    “To you, kiddo.”
    I wait for him to say more. He doesn’t. “Did you open it?”
    “We had to. I’m sorry. We thought it might be from your father, that it might offer a clue as to where he is.”
    “Hank,” I say. Not my father anymore.
    Officer Archie breathes into the phone. “Hank. Yes,” he says. His voice understands.
    “What–?” I clear my throat, count to five. Whack. Whack. “What does it say?”
    “I thought I might send it to you. And then you can read it privately?”
    I think about this for a long, silent moment. I’m not sure I can wait the two or three days it will take.
    “I’ll overnight it. It’ll be there tomorrow, late morning?” Officer Archie says like he’s read my mind.
    “Yes, please, that would be great. I have some