Page 61 of Resilience on Canvas

“Will I need... clothes and stuff?” Henry asked.

Rose shrugged. “What you’re wearing should be fine.”

“Yeah, and the flyer said that the organizers will be providin’ snacks and water,” Joe said. “We can rest for fifteen minutes every couple of hours, too, I think, so they’re supposed to have pillas and cots for everyone.”

Henry whistled. Wow. What an experience this would be.

“Mind if I stop at home first?” he asked. “And maybe we can head over to the Davis’s house, too, so that I can talk to Robert?” Only once the suggestion left Henry’s mouth did he realize that he couldn’t tell Robert where he was heading. Because then he’d have to tell Robertwhyhe was entering one of these strange, silly marathons in the first place. He’d have to tell Robert that it wasn’t only to help pay his parents back but also to find somemoney to take everyone out to California. And Robert, stubborn man that he was, would try to stop Henry from entering, if only because he’d be too proud that Henry would be exhausting himself to try to win the grand prize, one that wouldn’t even be enough for the whole of everything. “Or, no. Never mind. Just my house. I need to tell my folks where I’ll be.”

“No problem,” Rose said.

She left to finish packing, and Joe went inside to fetch an extra pair of shoes.

Henry was left on the porch with his thoughts.

Even if he only had a tiny chance of winning, even if the prize money wouldn’t even be enough for everyone’s train tickets, even if Robert might kill him for trying something like this, Henry wanted to try. Because he wanted a life with Robert. He wanted one so badly. One without none of these ruthless black blizzards. And one where Robert and his siblings didn’t have to resort to splitting a couple of cans of beans for supper.

Henry wanted a life with Robert in California.

One with fruit trees and sunshine and a view of the ocean.

And warm summer rain.

Chapter Seventeen

Robert

Robertwassittingonthe sofa next to Clara in the living room of Henry’s parents’ house, trying to relax. Clara and the kids had practically begged him to let them come back here for a light lunch once the church service had finished. And Robert hadn’t been able to make himself say no.

It seemed like every day that came to pass, he was becoming more and more indebted to these people. It felt like his sense of self was being stripped away, each meal or beverage that the Sherwoods shared with him and his family one more rake of a paint scraper, peeling off the façade of who Robert believed himself to be.

Robert was supposed to be the caretaker. He was the eldest sibling. He’d been responsible for other people since he was three and a half. Hell, he could still remember how his life had changed when his sister Clara had been born. Those first memories may have been fuzzy, but Robert could still recall a handful of crystal-clear scenes in his mind. During the first few weeks of Clara’s life, Robert had already been put to work to start helping with her—fetching the baby blanket from wherever his mother had last left it, finding extra pins for Clara’s diapers, and even sometimes holding his sister for a few minutes while his mother prepared supper. Robert hadeven started tucking himself into bed so that his mother could rock Clara to sleep in the next room.

Every year since, Robert had taken on more responsibilities, some of them given to him by his folks—like seeing that the twins and May made it to school on time—and others he had taken on himself—like making sure that his father’s fury was only ever leveled at him, not his mother or his siblings. Even though it wasn’t easy taking care of everybody, especially once his mother had passed, Robert found pride in it, too. It had become not onlywhat he did, butwho he was.

Who was Robert Davis if he wasn’t the one taking care of his family?

Robert was still lost in his thoughts when Henry’s mother brought out some peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Absentmindedly, he took one from the tray and began munching on it, though the flavor didn’t even register on his tongue. Clara started chatting with Henry’s mother, and the murmur of their conversation rang in Robert’s ears, individual words blending together and sounding like nothing more than gibberish to his muddled mind.

He was startled out of his half-formed, self-pitying thoughts when he heard the beautiful tenor of Henry’s voice in the kitchen.

“Mom? Pop?” he called out, his fast footsteps coming closer. “I need to ask you something. Do you mind if I—”

He cut himself off the moment him and Robert locked eyes.

Henry’s mother said, “What is it, hun?”

“Uhm...” Henry started chewing on his bottom lip. “I was hopin’ that I could go with Joe and Rose to Alva? For one of those dancin’ competitions?”

Robert reeled back, his face screwing up with confusion. Dancing? Why was Henry looking to enter a dancing competition?

“Dancin’?” his father scoffed, coming in from the living room with his newly refolded newspaper, Robert’s little siblings trailing behind him.

“Yeah, I thought I could try to make some money,” he said, lowering his head a bit. “Grand prize is seven hundred dollars.” Robert’s mouth fell agape. Holy hell, that wasn’tsome money, that wasa whole lotof money. “Well, I would have to split that, but still—”

Henry’s father sneered, “Oh, that’s ridiculous. What are the chances you’d even have of winnin’? Dancin’ for hours and hours like that...” He paused and waved his free hand like he was shooing away a fly. “Son, we have everything we need right now. Don’t waste your time with somethin’ that like. Besides, we’re leavin’ for California in less than a month.”

Robert’s stomach plummeted.Leaving for California?!Had Robert not only eaten one meager bite of that sandwich, he’d have probably thrown up onto the floor.

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