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Back The Wilderwomen Save as PDF
Chapters (37)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. BEFORE
  4. AFTER
  5. ONE THOUGHTS ON SUN HATS
  6. TWO TIME FOR CAKE
  7. THREE TWELVE MONTHS
  8. FOUR PSYCHIC KARAOKE
  9. FIVE A SECOND SLEEPING BAG
  10. SIX SIX MONTHS
  11. SEVEN THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE PANCAKE
  12. EIGHT SIX MONTHS
  13. NINE FOLLOW THE MUSIC
  14. TEN THE STARS ARE BRIGHTER IN THE DESERT
  15. ELEVEN SIX MONTHS
  16. TWELVE EVERY STAR HAS A SONG
  17. THIRTEEN PSYCHIC KARAOKE
  18. FOURTEEN ONE MONTH
  19. FIFTEEN A WELL-TRAVELED HAT
  20. SIXTEEN JOEL VS. THE VOLCANO
  21. SEVENTEEN TWO WEEKS
  22. EIGHTEEN HOUSE OF MEMORIES
  23. NINETEEN IF TREES COULD TALK
  24. TWENTY THREE DAYS
  25. TWENTY-ONE SEARCH PARTY
  26. TWENTY-TWO NOT THE SAME ZADIE
  27. TWENTY-THREE WAVES OF SMOKE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR THE DAY OF
  29. TWENTY-FIVE THE SKY IS FULL OF BIRDS
  30. TWENTY-SIX NEST
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. EPILOGUE
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT A SONG ABOUT A BIRD
  34. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  35. Also by Ruth Emmie Lang
  36. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  37. Newsletter Sign-up

They looked at each other then, bemused. They used to laugh a lot, Zadie remembered fondly. Maybe that was why they stayed together as long as they did. Then Joel’s expression softened, his gaze settling into hers. It was the kind of gaze that felt like being touched. Zadie squirmed and turned her attention back to the TV. She could feel Joel’s eyes linger on her for a moment longer; then he, too, turned back to the screen.

“How about a movie?” he said, flipping the channel.

“A movie sounds good.”

NINETEEN IF TREES COULD TALK

Finn hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the room was dim and the bed was soft and she was tired, so tired it felt like moving underwater. Sealed off from the memories of the main house, her mind had been given a much-needed reprieve, and so it did the first thing it could think of, and that was to not have to think. She hadn’t even had time to crawl under the covers before she was climbing out of them again in a dream:

Close the window.

The bird in the tree had stopped singing. Shards of clay scattered across the tile floor. A helpless cactus lay on its side, root ball exposed. Finn/Zadie combed her fingers through the spidery roots, scooped the sandy soil up with her hands, poured it into an empty coffee can.

Close the window.

Finn/Zadie picked up a piece of clay pot sharp enough to draw blood. She pressed it against her palm—a test—then set it aside.

The bird started singing again. Finn/Zadie could see its tiny apple head, its pinstriped wings. She had never seen a bird like it before.

Close the window.

She didn’t want to close it. She wanted to listen.

Close the window.

Finn/Zadie moved toward the window, the bird. She leaned in until she could feel fresh air against her cheek. Then something out of the corner of her eye moved.

Finn awoke to not one, but a chorus of songbirds outside her window. The bed she was lying on was pushed up against the wall, so she barely had to lift her head to see the ruddy limbs of cedar trees. Light twinkled through their scaly needles as they swayed gently like a queen’s wave. Finn waved back. After seven hours of undisturbed sleep, she finally felt like herself again, and was invigorated by the prospect of a day spent retracing her mom’s footsteps.

She quickly changed her clothes and pushed open the bedroom door. In the living room, Zadie and Joel were both fast sleep on opposite ends of the couch. The TV was still on at a low volume, airing a generic drama from some three-letter cable network. Not wanting to wake them, she crept across the living room, then slipped out the front door and down the stairs.