Peaches

orchards planted right away, it would take at least two years for their trees to bear fruit.
    Murphy had never been so happy for anyone else in her life, but she also felt like she wasn’t just happy for Birdie, but for the orchard itself. They were sitting around on the porch, finally exhausted and coming down from the huge high, when the sun peeked through the clouds.
    Only Walter looked less than gleeful when he came through the door about half an hour later. But he looked less than miserable too.
    Birdie jumped up and hugged him, chattering about how great it was, and wasn’t he excited, and could he believe it.
    “It’s a good turn of luck,” Walter said seriously, nodding and rubbing his thumb against his index finger. “We may actually be out of debt when we sell.”
    Every single person in the room froze. Birdie looked at her dad like he’d punched her in the stomach. Then she turned her eyes to Murphy and Leeda, as if they could do something. Murphy gave her a helpless look back.
    “Well, I’d better get home,” Leeda said awkwardly, standing up, her body seeming tightly strung together, like it might snap. “My parents think I’m still in Texas.”
    “You take my car,” Poopie said, very low and evenly. “You and Murphy. Bring it back tomorrow.”
    Murphy didn’t think she had much of a choice since her car was still stranded back on the side of the road, so a few minutes later, after they’d each hugged Birdie tightly and wordlessly, she ducked into the passenger seat of Poopie’s car and sat tensely on the ride home, directing Leeda to turn this way, turn that. Mentally she dared Leeda to say something about her trailer when they pulled into Anthill Acres so that she could snap back. But Leeda kept her eyes coolly on the road in front of her.
    “Well, thanks,” Murphy said, letting it come out colder than she’d intended.
    “It’s no problem.” Leeda met her eyes once, briefly, and then Murphy shut the door and she pulled away.
    Murphy’s mom’s car was in the driveway. Murphy climbed the stairs and stepped inside, noticing immediately that the trailer felt as stuffy and closed in as a hothouse.
    “Mom?”
    She walked through the kitchen into her mom’s bedroom and stopped. Jodee was curled up on the bed, used, balled-up tissues lying all around her. She looked tiny and delicate, like a teenager in her Bad Girl shorts and a little red tank top, her copper hair strung out in all directions.
    Murphy sat on the bed and gently pushed her hair out of her face.
    “Mom, I’m home.”
    Jodee looked up and sniffled. “Hey, baby.”
    “Hey,” Murphy said, stroking her forehead. “You feeling bad?”
    Jodee curled up tighter into her ball. “Feeling stupid.” Shelooked at Murphy. “I’m sorry, honey, I really thought it would work this time with him. I guess I need to grow up.”
    She reached for Murphy’s hand, and Murphy took it, looking down at her fingers. “Mom, what happened to the seagulls?”
    “I don’t like them anymore.”
    Somehow this made Murphy sad.
    She crawled behind her mom and curled up behind her, fitting against her body and wrapping her arm around her waist. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Jodee that she understood or that she empathized, but she hoped showing it was enough.
    After a few minutes Jodee’s breathing went back to a slow rhythm. Murphy lay thinking about her in wonder. How did she do it? Open her heart up time and time again, when every time she ended up hurt? Murphy’s mom really was like a child. She didn’t have the fear that Murphy did. It wasn’t that she was stupid or blind, as Murphy had thought more than once. She was just hopeful. Naive. How did she manage to hold on to that?
    There was something there that Murphy wasn’t strong enough to emulate. After all the thinking about other people as foolish, and fearful, and weak, Murphy knew what she had, in fact, always known. That it was she who was the coward.

Chapter Twenty-four
    A t dusk Birdie took a long walk through the orchard, walking up and down the rows, looking at each peach tree, occasionally running her fingers through the leaves, occasionally rubbing her fingers on the soft fuzz of the peaches. It was truly amazing. Not one of the trees had been hit. Not one. Birdie’s wonder grew the longer she walked.
    Occasionally her mind turned to Enrico, and even though she was alone, a huge blush unfurled across her face, and then an ache of loss throbbed in her