Fire Birds (40 page)

“Why did you paint ‘new’ on that sign?” Lydia asked, pointing.

Ahead was the large, wooden Grace County Airport sign with another sign affixed above it.

“That green metal sign, the one that says, ‘New Clayfield, Kentucky city limits,’ used to be at the edge of town,” I told her. “Tim–he’s one of our friends–he took it down and brought it here. He painted the word ‘new’ on it, because we’re starting the town over here.”

“Because the old town was burned?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Also we can live better out here than we could have there. We have more places to feed our goats and grow food.”

“It’s like the phoenix, sweetie,” Betsy said. “Do you remember that story I read you?”

“That bird,” Lydia said. “I remember.”

“You have five people in the whole town?” Aaron asked.

“We have eight now,” I said. “You’re our newest citizens. We should have a party, don’t you think?”

“Are you the king of the town?” Aaron asked.

“Towns don’t have kings, silly,” Lydia said. “They have mayors.”

“Are you the mayor?” Aaron asked.

“Nah,” I said. “I’m nobody.”

THE END