Some Kind of Happiness by Claire Legrand

he did?
    Grandma, tell me more about your blues parties. Tell me more about my dad when he was little.
    Tell me why we never visited. If you miss him, why don’t you ever talk to him?
    My hair falls into my eyes again, and Grandma brushes it away. What does she see when she looks at me?
    â€œSorry,” I mumble. “My hair’s kind of messy.”
    â€œLewis’s always was too.”
    â€œExcuse me.” A tired-looking man comes up to the table. Two small boys hang off his leg, and he’s giving another one a piggyback ride. “Are you Candace Hart? The backpack lady?”
    Grandma’s face fills with a silver-bright smile. “That’s me.”
    â€œMy kids’ teacher told me about your program. Where do I sign up?”
    I watch Grandma talk to this man. She holds one of the kids on her lap while the man fills out three forms. She lets them pick out pencils and helps put the pins on their T-shirts. She shakes the man’s hand and straightens the kids’ collars.When one of them hugs her legs, she bends over and hugs him right back. While they walk away, she watches them go, and she waves when they get to the swing set.
    â€œCandace Hart!” A woman waves from the snack table. “I knew you’d be here! Come here, tell me what’s new!”
    â€œWatch the table, Finley,” Grandma instructs without looking at me. “And tie your shoe, won’t you, please?”
    As I watch Grandma head for the snack table, I wonder which is more true:
    The Grandma who knows everyone, who scrubs pans that are already clean, who runs organizations and holds messy kids with crooked collars in her lap.
    Or the Grandma with shaking hands and a tired face. The Grandma who hates the Baileys because their house is an embarrassment.
    The Grandma who misses her son.
    That night I dream of fireflies, and of Dad dancing with Grandma in the Everwood beside the old castle in the gray field. When I wake up the next morning, the dream feels thick around me, like a scratchy blanket too heavy for the summer.
    I find my notebook and start to write a new list.
    WHY MY DAD LEFT THE FAMILY
    â€¢Â Because he was called away on an adventure that required him to sacrifice all personal ties.
    â– Â But then he got married, so that can’t be it.
    â™¦Â Unless . . . am I part of some secret international plot? (Unlikely.)
    â€¢Â Because they wanted him to take over Grandpa’s business with Uncle Reed, but he didn’t want to. (But why would that be a secret?)
    â€¢Â Because he was different. (Like me.)

12

    B UILDING A TREE HOUSE IS more difficult than I had anticipated, but it had to be done. No quest is complete without a base of operations.
    However, even with Grandpa’s supervision, what we end up with on Tuesday is something more like a tree . . . patio.
    Once we nail the final board into place, we all step back for inspection.
    Grandpa is the first to speak.
    â€œWell,” he says, scratching his chin, “now that is something.”
    Specifically, it is a platform three feet off the ground, built around a cluster of three thick trees. There is a slanted roof, and it has walls on two sides. Steps lead up to the front, with a rope ladder hanging off the back.
    It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
    â€œIt’s ugly,” Ruth announces. “I thought it would be, you know, up high . In the trees . It’s supposed to be a watchtower .”
    â€œOh, come on, Ruthie.” Kennedy adjusts the bandana tied around Ruth’s head. “This way you can go inside without asking someone for permission.”
    â€œYou can also fall off it without breaking your neck,” Gretchen points out.
    Ruth frowns. “But it’s not high enough to see anything!”
    â€œI’ll tear it down, then.” Grandpa approaches the steps with his crowbar. “If you’re not going to appreciate it,