The Secrets of Tree Taylor (27 page)

But they don’t know Jack like I do.

He runs out of the bushes, crying out to the wounded that help is on the way. I see him running and screaming, much like I’ve seen him a thousand times in our games of Capture the Flag. Dodging bullets, he races toward the injured soldier, his buddy. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he says, tugging the soldier to safety. A bullet grazes his leg—a shallow wound, like Mr. Kinney’s. Somehow, Jack reaches the second soldier and drags him to the nearest cover. He is headed toward the third soldier when scores of Viet Cong appear out of nowhere and grab him.

Did he have time to salute his fellow soldiers? Did he have time to hear music? To think of me?

On May 5, 1964, Donna called Mom. She had just received a telegram telling her that her only child was MIA, missing in action. A telegram. Black words on a piece of flimsy tan paper. Words that changed everything.

Mom called Dad at the office. He drove directly to school and pulled me out of class. I didn’t return for a week. Only Penny called. And Sarah. Penny had called her.

On May 14, 1964, I received a letter from Jack, posted three weeks earlier. It read:

It’s the last Jack letter any of us has received.

I imagine Jack hiding in the jungle. I picture him in a jungle prison. He’s still Jack. I see him dancing, working out
new steps to the songs in his head. He’s swinging and jiving so hard, his Viet Cong guards step back and watch, in awe.

He’ll be back.

Last night I attended the Hamilton High spring dance with Ray Miller. Afterward, I taught a new generation of Hamiltonians to dance in a headlight circle at the reservoir—but only and always beginning each dance session by shouting “To Jack!”

I feel as if I should thank the entire town of Hamilton, Missouri, where I grew up dreaming of becoming a writer. This book is a work of fiction, but I hope it reflects my gratitude for the spirit of the people there. It was an amazing time and place to come of age.

Thanks, especially, to my sister, who embodies all of Eileen’s good traits and none of her bad.

I will always be thankful for the memory of Jack House.
To Jack!

I’m grateful to my agent, Elizabeth Harding, at Curtis Brown, Ltd., for doing all the things I don’t like to do so that I can do what I love—write.

It just doesn’t get any better than being part of the Knopf family, where each comma is carefully discussed with heartfelt emotion. I am the luckiest writer in the world to have Allison Wortche as my editor. Thank you so much for your perceptive eye all the way through this project. I’ve watched my simple story transform into something much deeper because of you.

And I can’t miss another opportunity to thank my wonderful family for pitching in when I’m too locked into writing to do anything else. Thanks to my hubby, whose writing challenges me, and whose love keeps me going.

Dandi Daley Mackall
is the award-winning author of many books for children and adults. She visits countless schools, conducts writing assemblies and workshops across the United States, and presents keynote addresses at conferences and young author events. She is also a frequent guest on radio talk shows and has made dozens of appearances on TV. Her young adult mystery published by Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers,
The Silence of Murder
, won the Edgar Award.

Dandi writes from rural Ohio, where she lives with her husband and family, including their horses, dogs, and cats. Visit her at
DandiBooks.com
and
SilenceofMurder.com
.