Green Mountain Academy, page 17
* * *
With our armloads of fragrant forest bouquets, we crowded into the hospital room where Jasie lay, tiny and peaceful-looking, as Diamond had said. Her long black hair was loose and coiled over one shoulder. The tiger lilies Diamond had brought matched the sunny yellow room. Jasie’s parents were on their way home from Africa, but they would be at least another day or two.
Meredith took the chair by Jasie’s head. She’d brought her hairbrush and elastics and she began gently brushing Jasie’s thick glossy hair.
At first no one knew what to say. Then Danny said, “Lilac misses you. She goes into your room and comes out meowing.”
Then Lindsay told her about our tobogganing afternoon and soon the room was full of noise and laughter. Meredith braided Jasie’s hair into a neat single side braid and pinned a sprig of kinnikinnick into it behind her ear. Everyone took turns taking photos with her.
She seemed completely fine except for the fact that she hadn’t opened her eyes. Lill left to speak to the nurses and we arranged the kinnikinnick and pine boughs and sprigs of Oregon grape in mason jars tied with red ribbons and placed them around the room. We would meet Diamond and John-Lee afterward. John-Lee was due to leave the hospital in a couple of days.
Each of us took turns squeezing Jasie’s hand as we said goodbye. Some of the girls had already filed out of the room. When it was Danny’s turn, she gave a little shriek.
“She squeezed it back!” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“You could have imagined it.”
“I didn’t. She absolutely positively squeezed my hand.”
Danny’s face shone with excitement. The other girls piled back in, everyone talking at once.
“Let’s not overwhelm her,” Lill said, shushing us. But I could see she was excited, too.
“She hears us, I know she does,” Danny said. “I don’t want to leave her alone. Can I stay here? I could sleep on the floor, I don’t mind.”
“I don’t think they’ll allow that,” Lill said.
* * *
“Stay with me,” said Diamond when she heard the news. “I’ve got an extra bed in my hotel room and we can come back to see her first thing. You can spend as long in Jasie’s room tomorrow as they’ll let you.”
It was decided that Danny and I would be the ones to stay.
“It’s only fair,” said Ming. “You two are the closest to Jasie.”
* * *
Diamond’s guitar sat propped against the chair next to the window. The case lay on the bed. It had survived the crash, miraculously without any damage. The red suitcase I’d dug through to find the running shoe was also barely damaged, and now sat open on the luggage rack. There was nothing in this room to hint that someone in it had survived a plane crash.
“Come in,” Diamond said. She went to the desk and tidied some papers, tucking them into a folder. “This is another new song,” she said. “But it’s a big secret.” She winked.
That night we ordered pizza and ate it looking out at the lights sparkling on Okanagan Lake. Though it was cold, we sat on the balcony afterward with the hotel blankets over our shoulders and we waited for the moon to rise over the mountains.
“These little things mean a lot more to me now,” Diamond said. “Too bad I had to fall out of a plane to learn that. You girls have a special life out there at that school.”
Danny and I looked at each other. Then we told her what had happened, that it had finally been decided that the school would close before Christmas. Diamond frowned and fell quiet.
After the moon rose, we went back inside and watched a “mindless” movie, as Diamond called it.
The next day, Jasie opened her eyes.
chapter thirty-one
“This one,” said Grace. She grabbed the spruce tree by the middle of its trunk and shook the snow from it.
“It’s a good shape,” Lindsay agreed.
“It’s big,” said Ming.
“There’s lots of room. This is the one,” Grace said.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
Grace swung her pack to the ground and pulled out the saw.
“I’m making a fire,” Meredith said. “That’s what we do every year.”
“This isn’t every year,” Grace said. “I don’t know why we’re even getting this stupid tree.”
“Lucy wanted it. They still have to be here over Christmas to get the place ready to sell. I can’t even imagine.”
“It’s depressing,” said Ming. Everyone looked at her. Meredith was the cheerful one, but Ming was our rock—
even-tempered, practical and almost always in a good mood.
“A fire can’t hurt,” Meredith said. “Everything’s better with a fire.”
“Can you just stop?” Grace shouted, leveling a look at Meredith. “Can you just stop trying to pretend that everything will be fine? You’re so relentlessly sunny ALL THE TIME. This is crappy. Can we just be allowed to feel crappy?”
Meredith sniffed and turned away.
“Whoever wants to help me…,” she said and set off into the trees to find wood.
Danny and I followed her.
“They’re both right,” Danny said.
Meredith didn’t yet know where she’d be going after Christmas. She’d shuffle between her parents’ places for the holidays, she said. They couldn’t stand to be in the same room together. Her father did something to do with banking and spent most of his time out of the country, in Dubai or London or Hong Kong. Her mother lived in a penthouse apartment in Vancouver. When Meredith had called her from town about the school closing, she’d shouted at Meredith so loudly and for so long, we’d all heard it. Meredith had held her phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes. We heard her mother shout, “This is so inconvenient.”
“Maybe I’ll go to your school if I can get in,” Meredith had said to Ming.
“Don’t do it,” Ming had answered.
So Grace was right. There was no way to pretend that everything was fine. But Meredith was right too. Everything was better with a fire.
As we sat around it later, Meredith spoke. “I get it that you’re upset. We all are. But imagine what it must be like for the sisters. They’ve lived here since they were kids. The school will probably be torn down. There’ll be a big hotel and a bunch of condos. So many of these beautiful old trees will be cleared.” Her face clouded in tears she tried to hold back. “The least we can do is try to make it a little easier for them.”
* * *
After the fire, we dragged the tree back and set it up, filling the great room with the fresh fragrance of spruce and sap. An accountant had driven out to the school and was in an all-day meeting with the sisters that was still going on. Lill stepped out of the office to make coffee.
“Trade you places?” she said, stopping to admire the tree.
Meredith made shortbread cookies and laid the cookie sheets out on the table so we could decorate them.
“I’m good at a lot of things, but not this,” Grace said suddenly.
Everyone looked up from what they were doing. It was rare for Grace to admit she might not be good at something.
“What are you doing?” Carmen asked.
“Writing a letter. Well, an email.” Her legs were slung over a chair in front of the fireplace and she had the end of the pen in her teeth.
“I’m pretty good at writing,” said Carmen. “Do you want me to help you?” She was being modest. Carmen wrote songs so good they made me cry.
I watched, wondering what Grace would say. I had never seen her ask for help with anything.
“I’ve started it,” Grace said. “But I don’t know what to say next.”
“What have you got so far?”
Grace picked up her notebook and read, “Dear Soleil. How are you? I am fine.”
“You’re writing to Soleil?” said Carmen.
“What makes you think that?” Grace answered in her driest voice.
Carmen laughed. “Okay,” she said. “Forget about what you think people are supposed to write in letters. Like ‘How are you?’ Do you even care?”
Grace thought about that. “Sort of. Not really. No.”
“Exactly. So, scratch that out.”
“But that’s half my letter so far.”
“Doesn’t matter. If you start at the wrong place, you’ll go in the wrong direction. Or nowhere at all.”
“Okay, so what, then?” Grace said impatiently.
“Well, what do you really want to say?”
“I want to say I’m sorry I made her feel bad, but it was nothing personal.”
“Hmm. Can I give you some advice?”
“I’m asking for advice.”
“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, just stop there. Don’t make excuses about it.”
“Huh. Good point.”
She sat with her pen poised above the page. She wrote a word, then tore the page from her notebook and crumpled it up.
“What?” said Carmen.
“This is hard. Like I can’t just start a letter saying I’m sorry.”
“How about you tell her about what we’re doing right now? Tell her about the tree, how we picked it out, and had a fire, and now we’re going to decorate cookies.”
“That sounds dumb,” she said. Then a minute later, “Okay. I’ll try it.”
After a few minutes bent over her notebook and scribbling, Grace sat up straighter. “It’s pretty good. It’s way better. I hope she doesn’t think I’m just saying sorry because I’m trying to save the school.”
“Well, are you?”
“Partly. But it’s not just that. I realize that I’ve been wanting to keep the school to myself. But it doesn’t work that way. It needs to be shared. I was stupid not to see that.”
“Write that,” Carmen said.
“Really?”
“You asked for my advice. That’s my advice.”
* * *
Lill and Lucy, looking flushed and tired, finally came out of the office with the accountant, a white-haired man wearing a sweater, down vest and scarf.
“Stay for dinner,” Lucy said to him.
“No, thank you. It’s tempting, but I don’t want to tackle that road in the dark. It was bad enough in daylight,” he said. “Girls, I heard a little of your story. I just want to say that each and every one of you is an inspiration.”
He shook each of our hands, then he bundled up even more in his parka, hat and boots and he was gone.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to anyone about what happened,” Grace said as soon as he was out the door.
Lucy had bent over the cookies and was decorating a large Santa with red and white sparkles. She seemed reluctant to answer Grace.
Lill, too, had turned away to hang a delicate glass star from one of the spruce limbs.
After a minute, she said, “He’s Diamond and John-Lee’s uncle. How about some music? Let’s try to lighten up a little.”
* * *
Dinner was quiet at first, so quiet the sound of forks and knives clinking on plates grew louder and louder. Then both Lill and Lucy went to speak at the same moment.
“Listen—”
“By the way—”
“You go.”
“No, you go ahead.”
Lucy cleared her throat. “I just wanted to let you know we’re having some visitors tomorrow.”
“Who?” everyone asked.
“It’s a secret,” said Lill. “A surprise.”
“It has to be Jasie,” Danny said.
We had not seen Jasie since she’d been released from the hospital. Her parents had arrived from Burkina Faso and they’d all flown straight to Calgary, where Jasie’s grandparents lived. But we’d heard that she would make a full recovery.
“It won’t be a surprise if we tell you,” Lill said. “Let’s just make the place look nice and festive.”
“Fake it, you mean,” said Grace.
“If that’s what it takes, yes.”
chapter thirty-two
A white SUV drove into the yard the next day, followed by a black pickup truck.
Two people we didn’t know got out of the truck and went to the back of it, where they opened the box and began pulling out tripods and black boxes.
Lill opened the front door wide. “Do you need a hand?” she called.
Then we saw Diamond, getting out of the SUV. She was helping John-Lee, whose arm was in a cast and who was trying to walk using one crutch. He gave us a big smile.
The back passenger seat opened and there was Jasie. She jumped down and ran to us. A ruckus of hugs and squeals and shouts filled the room.
But after hugging each of us, Diamond was all business.
She scanned the great room. “There’s your piano,” she said. “Perfect.” She went over to it and took out the folder we’d seen on the desk in her hotel room.
The two people from the truck introduced themselves.
“I’m Laisha and that’s Pip,” one said. “We’re from CBC Radio.”
They busied themselves setting up recording equipment and cameras while we met Jasie’s parents, Manraj and Anita, who had driven the SUV.
“What’s going on?” Meredith asked.
“Wait and see,” John-Lee said.
When everyone was finally settled, Diamond turned on the piano seat and spoke to the camera.
“By now, most of you know that my brother and I were in a plane crash. Our friend and pilot, Rico, didn’t survive. But the story of how we survived hasn’t yet been told. Today is the right time to tell it.”
The camera followed her eyes as she told the story. Her descriptions were so vivid it was as if we were back out there, creeping on knees through the cave with Jasie. We were there as the girls loaded John-Lee into the sled. She told about Green Mountain Academy and its goals.
And she told about the song she’d written. “You helped us, now we’re helping you,” she said. “We want girls to hear about the school. All the proceeds from the song will go to Green Mountain Academy. If you’re a girl who feels more at home in a forest than a regular classroom, maybe you’ll come and join these brave girls.”
Jasie’s parents spoke next. “We’re so proud of our courageous daughter,” they began.
They explained Jasie’s role in the rescue and then said they’d be making a scholarship in her name to help a girl who wanted to come to the school but couldn’t afford the fees.
“The song is called ‘When I Fall,’” Diamond said. “It’s dedicated to the girls of Green Mountain Academy.”
Her fingers struck the piano keys and she and John-Lee sang it together, taking turns on the verses. On the chorus, they sang together in perfect harmony.
No one wants to appear small.
We fake it every day.
I march to my drum, you to yours.
Is there any other way?
The mountains rise,
wind blows us astray,
and the course we try to stay.
But when I fall you help me up.
In the cold and snow,
you’ll be there I know,
and when I fall you help me up.
Like the strongest pine,
hand in hand we climb.
As the song ended, Danny turned to Jasie, who was sitting between us. “Does this mean you’re staying?”
“Yes, it does,” Jasie said. “And I never thought I’d be saying this, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
She took each of our hands in hers and held on.
chapter thirty-three
I didn’t go to the city for Christmas. Meredith, Grace and of course the sisters stayed too. On Christmas Eve, we took thermoses of spiced apple cider and the makings of s’mores and went out to the creek to clean the ice for skating. It had snowed earlier in the day, but the sky had cleared and the air seemed to shimmer in the starlight as Grace readied the wood for our fire.
I skimmed my shovel across the ice, passing Meredith as she cleared from the other side. Lucy and Lill set up the lawn chairs that they’d stored nearby under a tarp. Each of us worked quietly, lost in our own thoughts.
My thoughts were with Mom. Aunt Sissy said she might be able to bring her to her apartment, if Mom was having one of her “good days.” I had never spent a Christmas without Mom. But it wasn’t my own loneliness I was worried about. I had the sisters, and Grace and Meredith, and the peaceful beauty of the forest in winter to keep me company. Mom had only memories and the shadows that haunted her mind.
Skating brought some noise to the night—the clean slice of blades on ice, then our laughter as we tried pirouettes and figure eights and Lucy and Lill raced each other end to end on our small rink.
Later, we sat by the fire and roasted marshmallows for our s’mores.
“We’ve got so many new applications,” said Lucy. “Our problem now is how to pick students. We can only take seven or eight more.”
“But save one spot,” Grace said.
“Save one?”
“For Soleil. I sent her an email.”
Lucy and Lill were quiet for a minute, then Lill said, “I’m sure she appreciates that, Grace, but I think Soleil made her decision.”
Back at the school, we stayed up late playing Yahtzee on the floor in front of the fireplace.
At a break in the game, I noticed Grace slip away and quietly pad down the hall of the old wing. Her bedroom wasn’t down there, so I wondered what she was doing.
