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asked, suppressing my excitement. She didn’t understand my question at first and I had to clarify and ask her what her job was.
    “Oh, I’m a teacher, so I’ll be out for the summer on June 6 th .”
    “What grade, what subject?” I asked, intrigued.
    “All grades, all subjects. I teach gifted students from kindergarten to High School. The District only has one teacher for the gifted, so I rotate with all of our students.”
    We talked about that for several minutes and she told me she currently had eight students, one of whom was particularly special. Then she returned to her question.
    “Do you think Claire - your mother - would let us meet? Would you even want to?”
    “Of course I want to,” I assured her. “Now more than ever. I don’t know what my mother would say.” Liar. I had a very good idea what she would say. “But we are really close. Just let me work on it and see what I can do.” There was a good bye hovering, and I knew our conversation must end soon. The clocked gleamed 9:30. Almost an hour talking.
    “Jennifer,” Sarah asked seriously, almost cautiously, “I just want to know. . . how is Claire. What is she like?”
    “She’s good, Sarah, really good. She works as the library director for our school district and she’s happy. Until tonight I never guessed that anything was wrong. She and my dad are…” I couldn’t find a word that didn’t sound like gushing, “they’re good. She’s a great mom.”
    “Thank God for that,” she sighed. I didn’t know if she was talking about everything I said or just the last part. “I wish I could…” she didn’t finish. Too much to say. We were both struggling to contort our feelings into tidy words. “I should probably let you go, but I want to talk soon.” She laid a heavy emphasis on the last word.
    “I know. Me, too.” I drew in a breath and tried to express what was throbbing in the middle of my chest. “Sarah, I’ll find a way to get there. I’m so glad I found you.”
    “Amen to that,” she answered very softly before telling me good night. I replied ‘good night’ in a dwindling voice and closed the phone, feeling it snap in my hand. My chin jerked up at the sound and I felt dizzy when I realized I was in Cleo’s room. It felt like I was coming back to myself from very far away. As far as the ocean.

CHAPTER 5
     
    Cleo found me several minutes later, sitting on her bed, rolling the unpeeled orange through my hands. She hesitated a moment in the doorway and then stepped in, clicking the lock behind her. I tried to find an opening line, but when I lifted my face away from my hands, I couldn’t do anything but explode into a grin.
    Her face broke into a smile that nearly blinded me. “Seriously?” she gasped. “Good?” She carelessly flung a small stack of paper she was holding on the pillow and sat beside me, grabbing my hand tightly.
    “Seriously good,” I answered with satisfaction.
    “I told you so!” she slapped my arm in triumph.
    “You told me so,” I admitted. She demanded I repeat every word, which took longer than the conversation itself due to our constant interruptions and commentary. Cleo thoroughly abused her “I told you so” privileges for the rest of the night – I told you she’d want you to call. I told you she’d like you. I told you you would have enough to talk abou t – and I took it with good graces because I could not deny any of it.
    Near midnight we were lying in our beds, whispering quietly, to avoid keeping the rest of the family awake, when Cleo asked, “Are you going?”
    I paused to let the question sink in. “I don’t know if I can,” I said haltingly, dropping each word and listening to it fall on the night.
    “If she lets you, will you go?” I knew she meant my mother.
    “She won’t,” I replied woodenly. “There’s no way. If you saw her tonight…” My mother’s tirade seemed so long ago. I couldn’t believe that it happened just that evening. “If you