Love and Peaches by Jodi Lynn Anderson Read Free Book Online Page A

gaped at her, her heart thumping sickly, and Poopie clearly had difficulty going on. Walter continued for her.
    â€œI’m getting older, Birdie. You have your own life now.” He gestured to the ring Birdie was wearing on her left ring finger. “The idea of having a new house built here…it’s just more than I can handle. Poopie and I want to enjoy life for a while. We thought we’d move close to where you’ll be going to school. You can come home on weekends.”
    Home. She felt her stomach roll.
    She looked to Murphy to plead the case. Murphy had the power to talk anyone into or out of anything. She had once talked the manager of Wendy’s into giving her a free milk shake after she had just been caught stealing one of their giant rolls of toilet paper as a joke. But Murphy only looked at her hands thoughtfully.
    â€œBirdie?” Poopie stared at her searchingly.
    Birdie cleared her throat. “Can I be excused?”
    She got up from the table without waiting for a reply. She walked into her dad’s office and closed the door behind her, knowing she was leaving a scene in which she was supposed to be participating like an adult. She leaned against the door, gazing at the piles of paper on the desk, the shelves and shelves of books on insects and fruit bearing and crop yields and business planning, the old photo albums, the books that had been here since before the Darlingtons had even moved in, books that belonged to the house itself. Years of effort, work, and memories were stored up in this room.
    Birdie walked to her dad’s desk and sank down behind it, staring at his computer. She looked at her left hand and twirled her ring around her finger. She felt like every moment counted. Like she needed to figure out which lifeboat she wanted to be on. She reached for the mouse and pulled up the Internet, then opened her Gmail account.
    E,
    I’m sorry I didn’t show up yesterday. I was confused.
    She typed as quickly as she could.
    You’re going to get a letter in the mail from me. Please throw it away before you read it. I am home in Georgia. I want you to come for the harvest. Please come. I am sorry. And please write back. I love you.
    She signed it, Love, B. And then she hit Send.
    Â 
    Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Thunk! Screech.
    â€œWhat’s she doing?”
    Thunk!
    Leeda stared at Murphy from across the table and shrugged. And then they both turned as, with a long, scraping noise, Birdie’s feet appeared on the stairs, followed by a large cardboard box.
    Thunk thunk thunk! Birdie yanked the box down the stairs and, without looking at them or into the kitchen at all, dragged it along the hallway and out the door. This had been going on for about half an hour. Every few minutes Birdie came in or out. On the out, she was always dragging something bizarre behind her—luggage, a two-by-four, blankets. Each time she tromped past them, bumping along, she was trying to pretend they weren’t there but clearly wanting them to notice her.
    â€œMaybe she’s running away,” Murphy said. Leeda just stared blankly at the hallway.
    â€œWith all that stuff?” she asked softly.
    â€œWhere did she find that two-by-four?” Poopie muttered, more to herself than to anyone sitting at the table. She had her chin resting on her hands, her lips pressed tightly together. She seemed slightly angry, slightly exasperated, and, still, a little wounded.
    â€œIt’s like she’s a ferret,” Murphy said.
    Leeda stood and walked to the window near the front door. She stared at Birdie, her heart going out to her. Leeda felt like if the orchard went, a part of her would go too. But it would be Birdie’s loss more than anyone’s. Birdie and the farm were like asingle entity. Imagining Birdie without this place was like imagining someone half-complete.
    Birdie had dragged her strange collection to the foot of the big oak tree on the right side of