I will find whoever else is here.
I drive for hours, Yolo yowling and then sleeping in the back seat. I try to catch someone around a corner, glimpse a light in a window coming on. I take the turns so sharply that something rolls around in the trunk, annoyingly, but I have no time to stop and see what it is.
49.
once
I took a deep breath of satisfaction, looking down at the rows of bushes, at the low green hills outlined by a smudge of blue where they met the sky. Humidity and bees hovered in the air. The closer you got to the bushes, the more you realized how many raspberries there were, clustered like bright red gems.
“Look,” I told Drew, Annie, and Kate, who were gathered around, holding tight to the rinsed-out plastic ice cream tubs I’d brought with me from home. We used them every year for berry picking. Coming to Taylor Farms was part of my ongoing plan to make sure the Miller kids had a perfect Lithia summer.
I knelt down in the dirt and pushed apart the leaves to reveal a cluster of raspberries. “When they’re ripe, they almost drop off into your hand.” I popped one into my mouth.
“Isn’t that stealing?” Drew asked. He was always very worried about the rules.
I smiled at him. “We won’t eat very many. And I’ll tell them to add a little to the total at the end when we weigh them.”
That satisfied him. He glanced over at where the farmers sat in the shade of a small tent, a scale and a cash box between them. One of the women waved at him, and he ducked his head.
We started making our way along the row. I heard Anniehumming to herself as she picked. It was impossible to imagine that it would ever be winter. The sun was starting to lower, everything turning gold and green, so rich I felt like I could reach out and pluck the landscape the way I’d picked the raspberries. I could hold a tree in my hand. I could run a cloud between my fingers.
“When we’re done, we’ll bring the berries home and eat them with cream,” I told the kids. “And we can make jam out of them.”
“You really know how to make jam?” Annie asked, and I laughed outright at the awe in her voice.
“It’s not hard,” I said. “We’ll make it tomorrow.”
My phone rang. Syd. I took a step or two away from the kids and answered, my eyes still on them, their hands, the tops of their heads.
“July,” she said, without preamble. “It’s perfect.”
I knew right away what she was talking about. I’d finished writing the manifesto for the team the night before and texted it to her. When Syd had big ideas, she often wanted me to help execute them.
“You don’t have to say that. We can change it if you want.”
“You know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
I did know that.
“That’s great.” I shielded my eyes, made sure I could see all three kids as they kept making their way down the row. They were intent on their buckets, their berries.
“That first line especially is killer,” Syd said.
“Thanks.” I had to admit, I’d been proud of that one in particular.
“And I loved the title,” Syd said. “ ‘The Fall Creek Girls Manifesto.’ ”
“Yeah, I was wondering what you’d think about that,” I said. “I started out calling it ‘The Lithia High School Girls’ Cross-Country Team Manifesto,’ but that seemed really long. And then when I thought of this, it seemed right. Kind of like it goes on past high school. We’re teammates for life.”
“Exactly,” Syd said. “I’m telling you, it’s perfect. I already went ahead and printed out copies. We can give them to everyone on the team.”
“Wow, okay.”
“I printed them on this really fancy paper,” Syd said. “They look old-fashioned. Kind of epic. Wait until you see them. We’re the best team captains ever.”
“Legends,” I agreed.
“When do you think Ella will jump?”
