Light Up New York Page 9

  “Mia, come and sit with us.” Dad sat on the bed next to Maddie and motioned to the open space.

  Mia sat. She tried to quiet the bubbling, boiling anxiety that filled her body, making it nearly impossible to sit still.

  “This morning, Lulu came back into the rooms to get her backpack and detective kit right before we left. When she grabbed her bag, she also decided to take the snow globe with her on our trip,” Dad said. “So she could look at it without someone telling her to put it away.”

  For a moment, Mia was speechless. She leaned forward, not believing what Dad was telling them.

  “Apparently, while you were taking photos with Miss Julia on the ferry, Lulu was playing around with the snow globe,” Dad said. “She started out using her magnifying glass to look at the details, but then she decided to shake the globe and to see how the scene looked with the snow falling.”

  “Her cha-cha-cha song,” Maddie said, and as soon as she said it, Mia remembered it too. Lulu had been singing. Mia had tried to block out the noise. Then, when Lulu had gone all funny and quiet, Mia had noticed, but she hadn’t thought that something bad had happened. Something like dropping the snow globe.

  “But we didn’t hear any glass break,” Mia said.

  “It was windy,” Maddie said, looking at her sister. “We might not have heard it.”

  “It dropped over the railing, into the water.” Dad looked each of the girls in the eyes. “I’m so sorry, girls.”

  For a moment, no one said anything at all. Mia had no idea what to say. A new wail rose on the other side of the wall, and Dad cast a worried glance at the door. “I need to go check on Mom. When we can, we’ll both come back to talk with you.”

  When he opened the door, Mia heard Lulu gasp out, “It’s so hard to be youngest.”

  “I hear you,” Mom said. “When you’re the youngest, you’re working so hard to be big. I felt that way myself. I was the youngest, you know.”

  “Will I always be bad?” Lulu asked.

  After this, Dad closed the door, and Mia didn’t hear Mom’s answer. Her anger grew and grew, feeling like it might explode out of her. She picked up a pillow and threw it against the others. “I thought that by praying for us and praying for her, things would get better. And we even included her in the concert . . . and look what she did!” Mia tossed herself face-first onto the bed and buried her face in the pillows.

  Maddie’s voice was very small as she said, “I don’t know how we’ll forgive her for this.”

  “Mmmph,” Mia said into the pillows.

  They waited, listening to Lulu’s sobbing slow, and then quiet. Then they heard Miss Julia’s voice, and after a minute or two, the hallway door closing. Mom and Dad came into the girls’ room soon after. They sat together on the window seat. Mia pulled herself up beside Maddie and hugged a pillow to her chest.

  “We sent Lulu down to the lobby on an errand with Miss Julia so we could talk on our own,” Mom said.

  Mia didn’t know what to say, and apparently Maddie didn’t either. The silence stretched until Mia started to feel uncomfortable. What was she supposed to say?

  “How are you girls feeling?” Dad asked, finally breaking the silence.

  Mia searched around for the right word. Finally, she settled on, “Frustrated.”

  “Angry,” Maddie said, truthfully.

  TWENTY

  Mia looked at her sister with surprise. It took a lot to make Maddie angry, and maybe more to make her admit she was mad. Mia hadn’t been able to say so, but now that Maddie had broken the tension, Mia felt her own anger bubble over the surface too.

  “It’s like we’re supposed to be okay with anything Lulu does because she’s the youngest,” Maddie said. “But it’s not like she doesn’t know better.”

  “She sobs and wails and acts like she’s the one who we should all comfort, when we’re the ones who don’t have the snow globe anymore,” Mia said.

  “Lulu was wrong to take the snow globe without asking,” Mom said. “And you’re right. While losing the snow globe felt terrible to Lulu, and it is something she would take back in a heartbeat, her actions hurt both of you.”

  Maddie pressed her palms against the mattress, as though she could push her anger into the bed and rid herself of it. “It keeps getting worse and worse. We forgive her and try to be nice, like when we bought her the detective kit and included her in Rise and Shine. And still, everything she does is worse than the thing she did before.”

  “I told her not to play with the snow globe,” Mia said. “I knew something bad was going to happen.”

  The words sat there between them, and slowly, Mom started to nod.

  “Girls,” she said. “I owe you an apology. We talked in the cab about broken trust, about how difficult it is to repair. Unfortunately, now I’ve broken your trust too. You gave me the snow globe for safekeeping. I didn’t tell Lulu it was completely off limits. I put it in my drawer because I thought locking it up in the safe would give Lulu the wrong impression. I heard your concerns about what might happen, but I wanted so much for Lulu to earn back your trust, to make the right decisions, that I did some things that I would change now if I could do them over again.”

  “It’s not your fault!” Maddie hurried to say. “Lulu was the one who took the snow globe and dropped it. I think she’s old enough to know what is right and what is wrong.”

  “No, it’s not my fault,” Mom agreed. “But I apologize for my part in what happened.”

  The words We forgive you popped into Mia’s head, but she realized she couldn’t say them. Not yet. She needed to talk to Mom and Dad about the bigger thing, the thing that went far beyond the snow globe.

  “You . . .” she started, and then faltered. How did you explain something like this to your mom or dad?

  “What is it, Mia?” Dad prodded. “It’s okay. You can tell us what you’re thinking and feeling. We want you to tell us.”

  Mia nodded, trying to reframe what she needed to say from an accusation into words that felt more truthful. “I feel like there’s this giant space in the family for Lulu and Lulu’s feelings. And then there’s the tiny space that’s left over. And that’s the space we get—Maddie and me. And I feel like you expect us to be okay with that, to always make room for Lulu, no matter what.”

  “It hurts my feelings,” Maddie added in a small voice, “when it feels like I matter less than Lulu.”

  “But we don’t . . . We would never . . .” Mom started.

  Dad put his arm around Mom. “I so sorry for causing you to feel that way, girls.”

  Mom nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “You both matter to us so very much.”

  She went to them then and wrapped her arms around them. Tears started to roll down Mia’s face.

  “I’m sorry too, girls,” Mom said. “So very sorry. What can we do to make this right?”

  Mia shook her head and then said, honestly, “I don’t know. Lulu isn’t going to stop being Lulu.”

  At this, Maddie choked out a laugh, and Mom and Dad laughed a little too. It felt good to laugh, to let some of the tension dissolve. Mia felt better having admitted her feelings, finally. Now that she’d put them into words, they didn’t feel so powerful, so overwhelming. Mom let them go and looked Mia and Maddie each in the eyes.

  “I love you girls so much.”

  “Love you too, Mom,” Mia said, and then, not wanting to leave Dad out, she hugged Dad as well. “You’re not so bad either.”

  “No?” He quirked an eyebrow and then pulled her in tight for a hug. He swept Maddie up next, and it felt like a festival of hugs for a moment, until they all settled back down to finish talking. Mia knew they couldn’t leave it at that, as much as she’d like to. Mom had asked what she and Dad could do, and Mia wanted to answer. What could her parents do?

  “When something goes wrong with Lulu,” Mia said, slowly, feeling her way, “you tell us how she probably feels. It’s not that I don’t want to know, but when you tell us
how she feels, I feel like I’m supposed to not feel my own feelings anymore. It seems like only her feelings matter.”

  Maddie nodded, picking up where Mia had left off. “Maybe if you let us be upset for a little while—not that I like being upset, but maybe we need a little space. Like we could take a walk or something.”

  “I like that idea,” Mom said. “Perhaps we could have a family plan, and Lulu would know—we all would know—that each of us need time before we work things out. And even when someone feels upset, they might have to wait until the other person is ready to talk.”

  Mia thought this plan over. Maybe it would help to have a little more time to think things over before having to fix them.

  “You know what I’m proud of you for?” Dad asked. “Today, you were upset with Mom and me, but instead of telling us it was okay, you shared your real feelings with us. That’s not easy to do with anyone, and in particular with your parents. But when we know how you truly feel, we can deal with the problem rather than avoid it. I wonder . . . What if you did the same with Lulu? What if you didn’t tell her everything is okay all the time? For example, what if you told her how sad, how upset you are about losing the snow globe?”

  “She’ll cry,” Maddie said.

  “She will,” Dad agreed. “But I think she’d feel worse if you said it was okay, especially since she knows it isn’t.”

  “Plus, you’d be doing what big sisters should do, model a way to be. You’re showing Lulu that it’s okay to talk about feeling upset. Maybe after a while, she will try it herself.” Mom ran her fingers softly against Maddie’s cheek. “You never know. Maybe she’ll start talking to you about her feelings rather than acting out.”

  “Or crying,” Maddie said.

  “Or crying,” Mom agreed.

  “What did you say to her, Mom?” Mia asked, remembering what she’d overheard from the other bedroom. “When she asked if she’d always be bad?”

  “I reminded her that God made her in his image, and that means that she is not bad. The thing is, as long as we’re on earth, we have the opportunity to make selfish choices.”

  “Huh,” Mia said, thinking about this. “I guess we all make selfish choices. Big ones, little ones, in-between ones . . .”

  “Exactly,” Mom agreed.

  “You know how you always say the consequences should fit the situation?” Maddie asked. “What will happen to Lulu? I mean, she didn’t break a rule, exactly, but she knew she shouldn’t take the snow globe out of the drawer.”

  “It’s a difficult one,” Mom agreed. “And honestly, I haven’t decided yet on Lulu’s consequences. No matter what consequences we give her, the worst one is having lost the snow globe. Even once you girls are able to forgive her, I think she will have a difficult time forgiving herself.”

  Mia shifted uncomfortably on the bed. What she wanted to do and what was most likely the right thing to do were the exact opposite.

  “What are you thinking, Mia?” Mom asked.

  “I think if we uninvited her to sing with us, even though she doesn’t know about it yet, that would be like trying to get even,” Mia said.

  “I think so too,” Maddie said.

  Dad nodded. “I do think that changing the plan for the Friday morning concert would be more harmful than helpful to all of you girls. We’ll work on some consequences that will include firm boundaries about anything that is off limits for Lulu. I’d like to also give Lulu the chance to decide on what she’d like to do to restore things between herself and you girls. Sometimes saying sorry just doesn’t feel like enough to fix what is broken. I know Lulu wants to fix things, and right now, she’s not sure she ever can.”

  “But right now,” Mom said, “what if we take some time, just you girls and us? How about we have a special dinner? Miss Julia and Lulu can order room service, or have dinner somewhere nearby. That way, you can have a little space away from Lulu before talking to her about what happened. What do you say?”

  A wave of relief swept through Mia. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d been waiting for the door to open at any moment. She’d had no idea how she would pull together the words she’d need to talk to Lulu.

  “Yes, please!” she said.

  “Perfect!” Maddie agreed.

  “Well, what are we waiting for, then?” Dad asked.

  Mom called Miss Julia, and then they bundled up and were off. Out on the sidewalk, Mia took Maddie’s gloved hand and swung it as they walked.

  “I think everything is going to be all right,” Mia said, full of a strange happy-sad feeling.

  Maddie squeezed her hand in agreement. “Me too.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lulu was already in bed when they came back to the hotel. She and Miss Julia were watching television in the girls’ room. On the screen, a reporter was standing in front of a map of New York City that was marked with snowflakes.

  “More Snow Angel news!” Maddie said, hurrying in to hear the report.

  All week, the frequency of gift-giving had been multiplying. It seemed the Snow Angel was everywhere at once, giving gift after gift—today, eight—from one corner of the city to the other.

  The reporter moved on from the Snow Angel report to talk about Light Up New York Week in general. Teams of volunteers had visited shelters and other sites across the city, doing all kinds of helpful work. Some had repainted, others had done deep cleaning. A few construction companies had sent team members to remodel bathrooms and offices. Waiting rooms in public health clinics, police stations, and service organizations had been freshened up. It seemed that everyone had done some closet cleaning and come up with shoes and blankets and coats they no longer needed. At this point, the shelters that distributed these necessities were overflowing with stock.

  “Just two nights from now,” the reporter added, “is Solidarity Sleep-Out. High-powered executives, young professionals, and many others are sleeping outside to raise awareness for the youth of our city who do not have anywhere to sleep. This event, sponsored by Covenant House, kicks off with a concert in Times Square. The concert will be lit by thousands of candles. In fact, this event was the inspiration for our Light Up New York Week. As we’ve seen, compassion and care for others has spilled into every corner of our city.”

  Miss Julia clicked the television off and stood to go. “Friday night will be a special night. I can’t wait to cheer you girls on.”

  “Climb into bed,” Mom said. “We’ll come kiss you good night in a few minutes.”

  Mia nodded at Mom. They’d agreed on the way home that she and Dad would give Mia and Maddie a few minutes to talk with Lulu. They didn’t want to go to bed with unspoken frustration between them.

  Mom closed the door, and Mia and Maddie climbed onto the bed. Lulu closed her eyes, pretending she was asleep. She cracked one eye open to see if they were looking. When she saw they were, she sighed and sat up.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, picking at a thread in her comforter.

  “Lulu.” Mia breathed in and blew out a big breath. “I’m really sad about the snow globe. It was special—a one-of-a-kind.”

  Lulu nodded, acknowledging this, tears starting to run down her cheeks.

  “I’m sad too.” Maddie pulled a pillow into her lap. “I wish I could tell you that it’s okay, and that we’re not upset, but that wouldn’t be the truth.”

  “Actually, we haven’t always told you the truth,” Mia said. “Sometimes I’ve told you ‘it’s okay’ when it’s really not. I’m sorry, Lulu. It’s important for me to tell you the truth.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Maddie said. “I don’t like to fight, and sometimes I say it’s okay so that everything will go back to the way I want it to be.”

  “I want everything to be okay,” Lulu said.

  “We do too,” Mia said.

  No one said anything for a moment. Mia traced circles on the pillow beside her.

  “I forgive you, Lulu,” Mia said. “But I don’t think everything will go back to the
way it was before.”

  Lulu tilted her head, obviously surprised and a little confused by this. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you can’t un-drop the snow globe,” Mia said. “And we can’t forget that you took it out of the drawer, where it was supposed to be safe. Probably the next time we have something special that we want to keep safe, we won’t leave it out like that.”

  “Because you don’t trust me?” Lulu asked, blinking hard.

  “Unfortunately, trust isn’t like forgiveness,” Maddie said. “You can forgive someone just by choosing, but trust takes time to build up.”

  “You’ve always just said ‘I forgive you’ before,” Lulu said.

  “This isn’t different,” Maddie said. “We do forgive you.”

  “But we also need to tell you the truth. And the truth is that even though we forgive you, we can’t completely trust you yet,” Mia said.

  After that, no one said anything for a minute. Mia wondered if her words had been too harsh. Still, she’d needed to say them. The sharp anger in her chest had been loosening ever since she’d started telling Lulu the truth.

  “Lulu, we want you to be honest with us too. Like about Rise and Shine. We know it’s a big deal to you that we’re singing on Friday. You’re pretending that’s okay with you, but we know it’s not.”

  “But I don’t deserve to sing on Rise and Shine,” Lulu said, her lower lip starting to tremble.

  “Not really,” Mia said. “But I’m not sure we deserve to, either. It’s just a special opportunity that came up.”

  “The point is,” Maddie said, “we want you to tell us when you’re upset. Or try to, at least. And we will try to tell you too.”

  Lulu nodded. “When I heard Jennifer ask you to sing on the show, I cried a little.”

  Mia looked over at Maddie, checking to see if this was the right time. Maddie nodded.

  “So, Lulu,” Mia said, “today, Mom called Jennifer Jensen at Rise and Shine and asked if we could sing your song on the show. With you singing lead.”