Emmy Laybourne - Savage Drift

I never knew how much goodness a newborn has wrapped around him until I held my son in my arms. I get it, why everyone wants to hold the baby. They’re filling up.

Today, Alex and Sahalia will arrive.

We’re all giddy with excitement.

Alex’s and Sahalia’s bedrooms are on the second floor. We put Alex down at one end of the hall and Sahalia at the other and Mr. Wenner in between. A little space to encourage them to… take their time.

We had so much fun cleaning the rooms. Niko and I hauled out the mattresses and beat them with a broom. We scrubbed the floors with Murphy’s Oil Soap and dusted away the cobwebs in the corners and in the dresser drawers.

They’re going to love it here.

Alex and Niko will have a dozen ideas for ways to fix up the farm and improve productivity—all of them good. And I can’t wait for Sahalia to see her father.

Alex’s been very specific in his instructions about how we are to handle the moment when they arrive.

First of all, only Tim was allowed to go pick them up at the airport. I told Alex (on a landline they allowed him to use at the Air Force base) that I wanted to come with Tim to pick them up, but he said he was afraid I’d blow the secret. He insisted that we stay home.

The truck only fits three comfortably, so I relented.

It’s taken forever. The airport is an hour and twenty minutes away and the plane was supposed to land at 11 a.m. I don’t miss minitabs too much, but I’d kill for a text right now.

Where are they? Why’s it taking so long?

We’re on the front porch. Astrid’s rocking Charlie, who just nursed, and I’m pacing back and forth.

“They should be here by now, don’t you think? What’s taking them so long?”

“They’ll be here soon,” she tells me.

“They should have been here an hour ago!” I say.

“We’re going inside, aren’t we, Charlie. We’re going to do what Alex told us to do.”

According to Alex’s plan, I’m in the wrong place. Astrid and I are supposed to wait inside with the baby, so Mr. Wenner can walk up to the truck and surprise Sahalia.

Mr. Wenner, meanwhile, is inside, pacing laps around the kitchen table.

Finally, finally, I hear the crunch of gravel on the drive.

“They’re coming! They’re here!” I say. (Okay, I shout.)

“Get in here!” Astrid shouts to me.

“Oh my God,” Mr. Wenner says as he pushes opens the screen door and steps out. “It’s really happening.”

I give him a hug and my congratulations and I go to stand inside the kitchen, looking out the age-rippled glass of the window above the sink.

I pull Astrid and Charlie to me.

He’s asleep in her arms, smiling and milk-drunk.

“I can’t wait to introduce Alex to Charlie!” I say.

Astrid ducks her head and presses it into Charlie’s blankets. She is already crying. It’s very sweet.

“Look!” I say.

The truck comes into view, and God, it’s going really slow, ambling over every pothole in the drive. No wonder it took so long.

I see now, that there are two figures in the bed of the truck, riding in the open air. It’s kind of weird. Maybe they wanted the open-air view?

The engine isn’t even cut before I hear Sahalia shout, “Daddy! Daddy!”

She jumps down from the truck bed and Mr. Wenner sweeps her into his arms. They go around and around, laughing and crying and hugging like it’s too good to be true.

But it is both good and true and it makes my heart ache with old-fashioned joy to see them together.

Sahalia has changed so much. Her dad is going to be amazed at who she’s turned into. Or maybe it’s that she always was a kind and thoughtful person, but was just hiding behind a crappy attitude.

I kiss Astrid on the top of her head.

“Dean,” Astrid says. “Look. There’s another surprise.” She points out the window with her chin.

Alex has hopped out of the back and he’s opening the passenger door.

I peer closer to the window.

A man gets down.

I think… I think… it’s my dad.

And now I stride to the door, and I open it and it is my dad.

I’m running now, down the gravel drive.

My footfalls crunching fast.

I see that behind my dad, still in the cab of the truck is a woman, very frail.

She needs a hand down and she is my mother.

“Mom!” I shout. “Mom! Dad!”

I reach my mother and come to a stop, my feet sliding in the gravel.

Gently, gently, I hug her. She’s thin and I see, no, I feel, against my cheek, that she’s suffered some terrible burn down the side of her face and over her neck. The skin is bandaged in places and shiny in others and she’s in my arms. She’s thin and fragile and she’s in my arms.

My mother.

My dad puts his arms around the two of us and Alex wriggles into the middle and we’re all laughing and crying. We’re in a big knot. A knot of Grieders. A cluster. A group. A family.

My dad kisses the back of my head and Alex’s grin is a mile wide. I’ve never seen Alex so happy and I know I never will see him happier. He did it. He reunited us.

In a moment, Astrid will make her way down the drive and I will introduce my parents to my son and my (someday soon) wife.

But right now I just let my mom cling to me.

“My sweet boy,” she says. “I thought I lost you forever.”

I hold my mother, taking care to be gentle, and I tell her I love her.

First and foremost, I would like to thank Holly West, my editor at Feiwel and Friends. During the four years that I have been working on the Monument 14 series, Holly has risen through the ranks at Feiwel and Friends to become an Associate Editor. Holly is the one who fell in love with Monument 14 when it was in proposal form and insisted Jean Feiwel take a good, long look. After collaborating with me on both Monument 14 and Sky on Fire , Holly was given the reins to edit Savage Drift . I feel fortunate to work with you, Holly, and I look forward to many more years together.

Jean Feiwel, I love being one of your friends. Thank you for getting out in front of this series and clearing the way for it.

Hearty thanks to my excellent agent, Susanna Einstein, for her forward thinking (and for always having my back) and to Sandy Hodgman, for helping to bring the Monument 14 series to the world.

This series wouldn’t be the success it is if not for the efforts of the Macmillan Children’s publicity department. It also wouldn’t be such a success if the Macmillan Children’s art department wasn’t so nail-bitingly awesome. And if the sales team hadn’t gotten behind the series like a 40-ton 18-wheeler. Then there’s the marketing department, which I just want to kiss on the mouth for everything they’ve done.

Are you sensing a theme? It takes a bunch of departments—scores of people—to make a book a hit. Here is my list of shout-outs at Macmillan. Thank you to: Publicist superstar Molly Brouillette! Cover artist extraordinaire KB! Lauren “Brings It” Burniac! Delightful Angus Killick! Elizabeth Fithian, who I’d follow anywhere! Allison “Vrrrrroooom” Verost! Big-thinking Kathryn Little! Brilliant Rich Deas! The GonzBargRuCronTaylWards Hit Squad! Patient, patient Dave Barrett! Ksenia “Kickass Blog Tour” Winnicki! Courtney “Go! Go!” Griffin!

Anne Heausler, I’m honored to share you, the finest copy editor on the eastern seaboard, with countless YA superstar authors. We’re all lucky to have you.

I enlisted a large crew of beta readers to help me with Savage Drift . Sincere thanks to: Kristin Bair, Jonathan Blake, Shyam Dewan, Greg Harrison, Lukas Lopez-Jensen, Zack Martin, Donna Miele, Ken Herndon, Tiffany Zehnal, my dad, Kit Laybourne, and my uncle, Colonel Tim Ryley.