Chapter Eight
Joel
David agreeingto come with me to the sanctuary lifted a weight off my shoulders I didn’t realize I had been carrying, so when I went back to my apartment last night, all I felt was excitement about our upcoming road trip.
I hoped we could get some news on Ladybug from my grandparents, so I’d decided to surprise them by bringing them breakfast. Not surprisingly, David was at the café when I arrived to buy some pastries. What caught me off guard was that he said he’d finished for the day and would love to join me.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s excited to hear about Ladybug.” I smiled, and he blushed as he packed some pastries in a box.
“Guilty as charged. Wouldn’t it be awesome if your granddad knew where it is?”
When we arrived at my grandparents’, we made a big fuss over making breakfast for them, preparing coffee and serving the fresh bread I bought and the pastries.
“Oh, isn’t this a treat!” My great-grandmother rubbed her hands in pleasure.
“It is indeed,” my grandmother agreed before turning to us. “What do you want?”
I laughed at my grandmother’s question. I still remembered the event we affectionately called “The Great Big Toast Burnout of ’96” when David and I decided that if we were nice to them and made them breakfast, they would take us to the fairground and let us go on all the rides.
It had worked then, and we hoped it would work now, although there would be no burnt toast this time.
As soon as we were all sitting around the table, we went straight to the point. We told them how we found we had matching keys and that Pedro had said they were for his uncle’s car, then proceeded to tell us how our moms got her.
“Granddad, I don’t remember the car when I was little. Was it sold?”
Before my granddad could answer, my grandmother interjected. And when Violeta Pereira had something to say, you listen. So we did.
“No. No. No. No way. You can’t even think about it. That thing is a death trap. It was old then, and it’s old now. Oh, my poor heart. I aged every time our baby girls went anywhere in that rust bucket. I’m not going to have my heart in my hands every day again. No way. Manuel, even God won’t help you if you have any part in this.”
“Grandma. Breathe.” I got up and put my arms around her and gave her a big kiss on her cheek. “What do you mean? Do you still have the car?”
My granddad cleared his throat, earning him a death glare from my grandmother. My great-grandmother, who’d been silent up to this point simply said, “Let boys be boys, Violeta.”
“Follow me.” Granddad got up and walked toward the kitchen door that led to the back of the property. David and I looked at each other but didn’t dare move without permission. We looked at my grandma who was now looking down, shaking her head and muttering, “These boys are going to be the death of me.”
We both dragged our chairs back like a bunch of excited kids and ran outside to meet my granddad.
I knew my grandparents had a garage that my granddad used as a workshop, but I’d never paid any attention to what it contained since all my time had been spent with David playing outside in the garden.
We helped my granddad open the double doors, the rusty stiffness of the hinges an indication that these doors weren’t used very much anymore, if at all.
Inside, there were tools hanging from hooks on the walls, shelves crammed with mason jars full of nails, screws, and other small parts I didn’t recognize.
“Come on, boys, help me get these boxes out of the way. My back isn’t what it used to be.”
I hadn’t even noticed that behind a wall of stacked boxes there was something covered by a very dusty tarpaulin. It was taking up the majority of the space I’d originally thought was just boxes.
David and I helped to get the boxes out of the way, being careful with the dust. Some had layers so thick we had to carry them outside. I made a mental note to offer to help granddad sort through this and clean them. Maybe he could start using the workshop again if the space was cleared up.
“Joel, can you go to the other side of this tarp and help me fold it up?” Granddad asked once all the boxes were out of the way.
We worked carefully and in tandem. With each fold of the heavy-duty fabric, from the rear to the front, years of dust fell to the floor, although some drifted up into the air around us. I was too focused on making sure the dust wouldn’t go everywhere to assess properly what I was trying to uncover.
As the final folds showed what was underneath, I heard David let out a whistle. We both stood back and stared at the red Citroen. We both shouted “Ladybug!” and high-fived each other, sporting the same ear-to-ear grin.
“How do you know her name?” Granddad asked.
“Pedro told us yesterday. We were looking through our moms’ travel journal, and he recognized it. Then he mentioned the car and how they called her Ladybug,” David said.
