Peaches

had been churned up before her arrival. She parked her bike at the foot of the porch and hopped up, rapping on the door. Poopie answered.
    “They’ve gone walking, Murphy,” she said, grinning. “Maybe there are still some berries left for pie.” Poopie was fondling her necklace and her grin was from ear to ear. “Why don’t you sit and wait?”
    Murphy shook her head. “Why do you look like you ate the canary, Poopie?”
    Poopie squinted at her. “Canary?”
    “Why do you look so happy?”
    Poopie laughed. “It’s a great day,” she answered, shaking her head. “You missed it. Balmeade come over and yelled and yelled about how people don’t keep their words. And something about squid that made no sense. But Walter kept saying he is keeping the orchard. First time that man ever surprised me in my life.” Poopie laughed, and her eyes danced.
    “Are you serious?” Murphy grinned. In reply, Poopie hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.
    Energy zinged from Murphy’s fingertips to her toenails. “Birdie knows?”
    Poopie nodded. “She knows.”
    “I’m gonna go look for them. Thanks.” Murphy skipped out onto the porch, and noticed on her way down the stairs that the statue of Saint Jude was gone.
    As she walked down the rows of trees toward the lake, her heart thrummed. She couldn’t wait to see Birdie now. But she also had the urge to turn and run, like Birdie had run in Texas.
    She heard them laughing before she saw them. They werejumping around playing Frisbee with a guy. For a moment Murphy thought it was Rex, and her breath caught. But then she realized it was someone who looked like Enrico. All three turned toward her at once.
    “Hey,” she said, walking slow now up to where they were standing, hurting slightly that they were all here without her. And breathing easier because she was here now. She squinted at Enrico, feeling self-conscious. “Enrico?”
    “Murphy.” Birdie leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “He chased me from Texas. Isn’t that sweet? And did you hear about the orchard? Did you hear we’re staying?”
    Murphy blinked a few times, then smiled. If she hadn’t been so nervous, she would have jumped up and down, but she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs. “I’m so happy for you, Birdie.” She looked at Enrico. “Welcome back.”
    “Thanks.” Enrico nodded, looking around like he recognized he was in the middle of a weird moment he didn’t belong in. “But actually, I have to go.”
    After they all exchanged good-byes, Birdie walked him up toward his car, her dogs trailing behind them as Leeda and Murphy stood watching them. They disappeared into the trees, and then Leeda and Murphy had nothing to look at anymore except each other.
    “That’s great about Birdie, right?” Murphy said awkwardly.
    “Yeah.” Leeda smiled, but nervously.
    They nodded and Murphy shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.
    “You wanna go for a swim?”
    Leeda looked over her shoulder at the lake, considering. “Yeah.”
    They both stripped slowly and awkwardly to their undies and waded in, Murphy too unsure to dive. They swam around each other carefully, Murphy watching to make sure she didn’t swim too close to Leeda or too far away. Without Birdie, it all felt lopsided, and when Birdie returned, looking slightly crushed, they were still swimming circles around each other.
    Birdie looked from one to the other, her brown eyes dancing. “You guys are idiots,” she finally said, sounding very much like Murphy. Murphy and Leeda looked at each other. Leeda smiled.
    Then she dove under and grabbed Murphy’s ankles, yanking her under. When they both spluttered their way up, Leeda was laughing. Murphy dunked her back under the water, Murphy opened her eyes, and a stripe of afternoon sunlight lit up the particles and the tiny water bugs that spun and ducked and dove around them. She heard the splash of Birdie leaping into the water. They were, finally, complete.
    On a warm late August evening, after one of the most surprising summers of her life, Poopie Pedraza tucked her statue of Saint Jude into a box. Now that she believed in miracles, she wanted to share them. Poopie sent the box to a children’s cancer ward in Atlanta, but the box was taken home by a postal employee who had a number of personal problems, including an addiction to stealing mail.

Chapter Twenty-six
    B irdie had forgotten what it felt like to stand on solid ground. Lying on the grass after