Read Journey for Free Online

dust clouds when they stop. Cooper pedals up the long driveway to my house and right up over the grass to my bedroom window. And when I open the screen and climb in, Cooper behind me, everyone is there: Grandma, Grandfather, and Cat, staring into my closet.
    Bloom has had her kittens.

Chapter Ten
    In the box of pictures, now ruined, were Bloom and her kittens: four tiny bodies, all wet and dark.
    “I’ve only been gone an hour,” I whispered.
    Grandma smiled.
    “That’s all it takes, sometimes.”
    “Sorry about the pictures, Journey,” said Grandfather.
    I sighed.
    “It’s all right. It was impossible. But it was that baby’s hand …” My voice trailed off.
    We watched the kittens fumbling to nurse and listened to their soft mewings.
    Bloom stared up at Grandma.
    “Yes,” Grandma said as if answering a question the rest of us hadn’t heard, “you are a wonderful mother!”
    Cat reached down and rubbed Bloom’s chin.
    “Who taught her?” I asked suddenly.
    “Taught her what?” said Cooper. “How to have kittens?”
    “No,” I said. “How to be a mother.”
    There was a silence. Grandfather lifted his shoulders.
    “Mothers know,” he said, looking at Grandma.
    Cat said what I was thinking.
    “Not all of them.”
    No one spoke, but as if Bloom had understood our words, she began to clean her babies, showing us how to be a mother.
    “Grandpa,” I said, “I want to take a picture. With the timer.”
    My grandmother and Cat groaned at the same time.
    “Oh, no,” complained Cat. “Don’t tell me, two of them!”
    Grandfather grinned at me.
    “Of course he wants to take a family picture. Out in the hall, Journey.”
    In the hallway Grandfather’s camera and his tripod leaned against the wall.
    “I’ll take the picture. I’m not family,” Cooper called to me.
    I stood in the doorway and looked at Cooper through the viewfinder. His cowboy hat still sat on top of his head.
    “Cooper,” I said, “you’re part of the family. But I want to take this picture.”
    When I moved the camera, I saw Grandfather smiling at me from across the room.
    “Now,” I said. “Everyone …”
    There was laughter,
    “What?” I asked
    “You sound like you-know-who,” said Cat, bending her head toward Grandfather.
    “Who?” asked Grandfather.
    “The photographer twins,” said Cooper wryly.
    “Now,” I said. “Everybody …” I shot a look at Cat.
    Grandma sat, Cat next to her, leaning back against her shoulder. Cooper knelt behind them, Grandfather on the other side, watching me closely.
    “Ready?” I said.
    * * *
    Time slows somehow as I look through the camera. I watch Bloom look at her babies; I watch Grandma kiss the top of Cat’s head and Cat turn to smile up at her; I see Cooper with his dumb hat, and my grandfather, smiling at me because he knows I am looking at him.
    Smile
, I say to them, but I don’t need to say itbecause they are all smiling. Real smiles, with their eyes, too.
Ten, nine, eight
, I say, and Cooper’s hat tilts and Cat snorts with laughter.
Seven, six.
I run to get into the picture, and Grandfather reaches out a hand toward me. I tumble into his arms, across his lap, and he holds me there, looking a little surprised, as if I’m a newborn baby. I stare at the button on his shirt. Then I stare up at his face.
Quick
, he whispers to me, and I turn and look into the camera just as the shutter clicks and Cooper’s hat falls down.
    * * *
    The kitchen was dark and cool and quiet. Cooper had stayed for dinner: chicken and mashed potatoes and peas.
    “It’s good to eat with people who don’t have food on their faces,” said Cooper seriously. He paused. “But I love Emmett.”
    “You do,” agreed Grandma.
    Grandfather, his chin leaning on his hand, looked at Cooper.
    “You’re a good brother,” he said.
    Under the table I felt a sudden brush against my legs. Bloom looked up at me; then she walked to the screen door.
    “Where’s she going?” I asked, alarmed.
    Cat