One evening we walked about a mile to a small park just east of Seventh and Forty-fifth. There was no one there but us. The trees were barren and the ground covered with snow. We sat on a bench and Grace lay her head in my lap, looking up at the stars.

“What am I going to do?” she asked.

I didn’t answer because I honestly had no idea. “Where’s your real father? Won’t he help?”

“I don’t know who he is. He was gone before I was born.”

“Do you have any other family?”

“I have an aunt in Denver. But my mom got in a big fight with her.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. My mom just said my aunt’s awful and she’ll never talk to her again as long as she lives.”

I ran my fingers through her hair. “Maybe you’ll have to go back,” I said.

She just closed her eyes. I knew she never would.

CHAPTER Twenty-five

I think the secret to a happy life is a selective memory.
Remember what you’re most grateful for
and quickly forget what you’re not.

GRACE’S DIARY

WEDNESDAY, NOV. 21

I don’t remember everything about that time. Like most memories, the good times fade while the hard times remain sharply chiseled on the tablets of our hearts. One of those times was the day before Thanksgiving when Grace got sick.

I had just gotten home from school and went back to the clubhouse to find the light off. The heater was on high, bathing the room in bright orange light. The clubhouse felt like a sauna.

“Grace?”

She moaned softly.

I crawled to her side. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well.” Her speech was slurred.

“Are you sick to your stomach again?”

She shook her head. “This is something different.”

I leaned over and felt her forehead with my cheek like my mother always did when I was sick. “You’re really hot.”

“My chest hurts. I think I have pneumonia.”

The word scared me. In California one of our neighbors died of pneumonia. “You’re going to have to see a doctor.”

“I can’t.”

“But pneumonia’s serious. You could die.”

“He’ll just give me pills. Do you have any pills?”

“What kind of pills?”

“Penicillin. Penicillin cures everything.”

“Maybe my dad has some. He has all sorts of pills. I’ll go see.”

I ran back to the house and went to my parents’ bathroom. Rooting through their medicine chest I found an amber bottle with penicillin. I pulled off the cap. There were only two pills inside. I was pretty sure she’d need a lot more than that. I took the pills and a damp washcloth out to her.