Page 10 of To the Moon and Back
The year Jenna actually showed up.
4
T he bad news came when Ashley and Kari and three of their older kids had been standing in line for thirty minutes. No more saplings. Apparently, there were more people wanting a piece of the Survivor Tree this year. There were still dozens of people ahead of them when a man with a megaphone stood on a picnic table at the front of the line and made the announcement.
“Sorry, folks! We’re all out!” He wore a park ranger shirt and a sympathetic expression. “Try again next year. We do this every anniversary.”
Amy didn’t seem to grasp the information at first. She looked up at Ashley. “Wait. Is he serious?” Alarm filled her eyes and her cheeks looked suddenly pale. “Does he mean . . . I can’t get a sapling? Even though we got in line so early?”
Ashley felt terrible. “Yes.” She put her hands on her niece’s shoulders. “They might find more. We can ask someone inside.” Ashley glanced at Kari. Maybe her sister would have something more to offer. But Kari managed only a sad shake of her head.
Defeat seemed to come over Amy all at once. “I can’t believe it.”
Ashley looked into her niece’s eyes. “I’m sorry, honey.” Next to Amy, Cole and Jessie stood, silent. All of them helpless.
For a few seconds Amy said nothing. Then she nodded, her eyes dry. “That’s fine. I just . . . I really hoped . . .” She hesitated and looked off. “It’s okay. Can we see the tree now?”
“Of course.” Ashley’s mind raced. How could she still get a sapling today? Her niece wouldn’t cry or make a scene or even complain. The poor girl had lost her whole family, after all. At twelve, she was used to disappointment. But there had to be a way.
Ashley ached for her precious niece. The baby tree was a big part of the reason they were here. And now . . .
Ashley felt like she was responsible. Like she’d let Amy down. She hung back with Kari while Amy, Jessie and Cole walked ahead. Cole must’ve said something kind, because Ashley saw Amy give him a slight smile.
“I really blew that.” Ashley linked arms with her sister for a few seconds. “We should’ve gotten here at six. Clearly.”
“You didn’t know.” Kari patted Ashley’s hand. “It’ll be okay. She can get a sapling another year.”
But they both knew what the little tree would’ve meant to Amy. They were quiet as they followed the kids. Ashley crossed her arms and looked around. The feeling of the memorial was one of complete serenity. Ashley had expected something more hopeless.
Instead somehow the place felt inviting. As if many people who had walked these grounds had made peace with the past. A quick glance around told her that most of the people here today were likely tourists. Patriotic types. Oklahoma natives. Visitors from out of the state and even out of the country.
Ashley wondered if the families of victims and survivors visited anymore. There would be fewer now, twenty-three years later. People might have moved or passed away.
Following Amy’s lead, their group walked into the museum. She didn’t stop to look at any of the exhibits. That would most likely come later, Ashley figured. Instead Amy was moving more quickly now, her cousins working to keep up. Like she had a single-minded mission, and nothing could distract her until she’d carried it out.
Amy walked through the back doors of the building and there on the landing she stopped, her attention locked on one thing. Ashley and Kari were close enough behind her that they could see it, too.
The Survivor Tree.
It stood much larger and grander than Ashley had imagined. The five of them continued outside and up a few flights of stairs. And there they were. In the shadow of the big old tree.
Ashley and Amy had searched online for photos of other American elms. None of them looked so grand. This one had a trunk thick and proud, if somewhat slanted. The branches spread out like a canopy.
A hundred people could’ve sought cover under its shade.
With quiet steps, Ashley moved next to Amy. After a while, Amy looked at her and smiled. Not with her mouth, but with her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” Ashley gazed at the tree. There was definitely something special about the tree. “No wonder your mama loved it.”
The others came closer. “It’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” Jessie leaned against Kari. “Right, Mom? Don’t you think so?”
“I do.” Kari nodded, her eyes on the old elm.
Cole stood on the other side of Ashley. “It’s almost a hundred years old. I can’t believe it’s still here.”
Amy didn’t stop staring at the tree. “I saw pictures of it after the bombing. It looks like a totally different tree now.”
“I know. I Googled it.” Cole nodded. “It was basically just a burned-up tree trunk, all black and shredded from the bomb and the cars that caught fire around it.”
