Passage

“Yes, that’s right,” she said finally.

“Is she already gone?” Maisie asked.

“Yes,” Barbara said, and her voice sounded funny from being under the bed. “She’s gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Barbara said. She stood up and switched on the TV. “Which channel were you watching?” she asked without turning around.

“A video,” Maisie said. “Maybe she isn’t gone yet. I mean, don’t people have to pack all their clothes and rent their apartments and stuff before they move?”

Barbara hit “play.” The puppy was licking the face of the little girl in the wheelchair. The little girl was giggling. Barbara handed the remote to Maisie. “All right now?” she asked, patting the covers over Maisie’s knees.

“Maybe she isn’t gone yet,” Maisie said. “She’s still getting ready to go, and then she’ll come back and tell everybody good-bye.”

“No,” Barbara said, “she left,” and went out before Maisie could ask her anything else.

Maisie lay there watching The Best Summer. The little girl got out of her wheelchair and walked with old-fashioned-looking crutches. “You were right. You told me all it took to get well was smiles,” she told the doctor.

I’ll bet the nurses forgot to page Joanna, Maisie thought, and she was so busy packing she didn’t even think about the wireless messages the Titanic sent. I’ll bet when she gets to wherever she moved to, she’ll remember. She pushed the call button again, and when Barbara came in, she said, “Where did Joanna move to?”

Barbara looked angry, like she was going to tell Maisie not to ring the call button so much, but she didn’t. She reached over Maisie’s head and flicked it off. “Back east.”

“Back east where?”

“I don’t know, New Jersey,” Barbara said and went out.

New Jersey was where the Hindenburg crashed. Maisie wondered if Joanna had gone there to interview the crewman who had had the near-death experience.

But he lived in Germany. Maybe she had found out about somebody else on the Hindenburg who’d had a near-death experience, and that was why she’d left in such a hurry. She’ll call me as soon as she gets there, Maisie thought.

She wondered how long it took to get to New Jersey. She didn’t think she’d better use the nurse’s call button again. She waited till Eugene brought in her supper tray and asked him, “How long does it take to get to New Jersey, Eugene?”

Eugene grinned at her. “You plannin’ to fly the coop?”

“No,” she said. “To drive there, how many days would it take?”

“Oh, you’re drivin’,” he said. “Ain’t you a little young to be drivin’?”

“I’m serious, Eugene,” Maisie said. “How many days would it take?”

“I dunno,” he said, “three, maybe four. Depends on how fast you drive. You strike me as one a’ them speedy drivers! You better watch out the police don’t stop you and ask to see your license!”

Maisie figured it would probably take Joanna four days if she was moving all her stuff, but she had already left. When? Yesterday or Thursday? If she had left on Thursday, she might call the day after tomorrow.

When her mom came back right before supper, she asked her, “Do you know when Joanna left?”

“No,” her mom said. “Did you watch The Best Summer? I brought you another video, The Secret Garden.”

Maisie decided she had probably left yesterday. So she’ll probably call Saturday, she thought, and I’d better find out as much as I can about the wireless messages so I’ll have lots to tell her. She looked through her Titanic books again and wrote down the ones they sent before the iceberg, just in case Joanna decided she wanted them, too, and waited for her to call.

But she didn’t call on Saturday, or on Sunday. She’s probably busy interviewing the Hindenburg person, Maisie thought, watching the video of The Secret Garden. There was a little boy in a wheelchair in this one, and a little girl who was very crabby. Maisie liked her.

The little girl kept hearing funny noises, like somebody crying. When she asked the people in the house about it, they told her they didn’t hear anything and tried to change the subject, so she went upstairs and looked for herself. She found the little boy in the wheelchair and started taking him outside without telling anybody.

I’ll bet he gets well, too, Maisie thought disgustedly, and fell asleep. When she woke up, the little girl was writing her uncle a letter. “Where shall I send it?” she asked the maid, and the maid told her the address.

When Barbara came in to take her blood pressure, Maisie waited until she’d taken the stethoscope off and then asked, “Do you know Dr. Lander’s address?”

“Her address?” Barbara asked, putting the stethoscope back around her neck.

“The address of where she moved to.”

Barbara peeled the blood pressure cuff off Maisie’s arm and put it in the basket on the wall. “Maisie — ” she said and then just stood there.

“What?” Maisie said.

“I forgot the thermometer,” she said, feeling in her pockets. “I’ll be right back.”

“But did she? Leave an address?”