Summer on Blossom Street
After seeing him out, she carried her daughter to the bedroom. Without bothering to change Ellen’s clothes, Anne Marie put her to bed, tucked under a crisp, cool sheet. It’d been a long, exhausting day. An exhilarating day…
The phone rang as Anne Marie was putting their wet clothes in the dryer. The tiny laundry room adjoined the kitchen, and she dashed out, lunging for the phone on the second ring for fear it would wake Ellen.
“Hello,” she said softly.
“Anne Marie?” her friend Barbie asked. “Is everything okay?
It doesn’t sound like you.”
“I just spent an entire afternoon at a water park with Ellen and Tim. Ellen’s asleep and I’m exhausted. Who would’ve guessed swimming could be so draining?”
Barbie laughed. “It can be a lot of fun, too.”
Anne Marie knew how much Barbie and Mark enjoyed the hours they spent in her swimming pool. Mark was bound to a wheelchair and loved the freedom water afforded him. “It was. We had a blast.”
“So everything’s going well with Tim?”
“Yes…” Anne Marie had been skeptical when Tim f irst ap proached her, but her reaction to him had moved into a whole new stage. The way she felt about his invitation proved that. It was time they got to know each other, she decided, time they tested this growing awareness between them.
“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
“I am,” Anne Marie admitted. “He’s been wonderful with Ellen and he’s respectful of my place in her life.” Because she’d needed someone to conf ide in, Anne Marie had shared her concerns with Barbie when Tim made his initial overtures.
“There’s more, right?”
Barbie seemed to have some kind of intuition when it came to relationships—romance radar, she called it. “Tim asked me out to dinner,” she confessed.
“Just you?”
“Just me. On Friday night.”
“Why don’t you bring Ellen here?” Barbie said. “Actually, I was phoning to invite both of you to come over on Friday night for a pool party. Mom and Hector are coming.”
“I wouldn’t want Ellen to intrude.”
“Oh, Barbie, that would be great.”
Never one to hold back, Barbie asked, “Has Tim kissed you yet?”
Anne Marie didn’t think she could include that peck on her cheek.
“He has, hasn’t he?” Barbie burst out.
“Technically, yes—but it was just for show.”
Barbie laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. This is ideal, you know.”
“What is?” she asked, although she was beginning to feel the same way. She was falling for this guy, who happened to be her adopted daughter’s biological father.
“It’s a perfect scenario for Ellen,” Barbie was saying.
“Maybe…” Anne Marie hated to seem so tentative. She’d begun to hope that a relationship between her and Tim was possible, but she wasn’t quite ready to believe it. “Do you think so?”
“I do,” Barbie insisted. “Ellen would have the mother who loves her and her biological father. This couldn’t have worked out better if you’d planned it.”
“But I didn’t,” Anne Marie said wryly.
“And that’s why it’s so perfect. Promise me one thing.”
“Okay.”
“Promise you’ll tell me everything when you come to pick up Ellen on Friday night. Oh—and I want to meet him soon.”
A few minutes later, Anne Marie put the phone down, wearing a huge grin. Despite Barbie’s optimism, she hoped she wasn’t counting on too much—and at the same time she felt encouraged by Tim’s dinner invitation. She sensed he was attracted to her, just as she was to him. In fact, she found herself thinking about him far too often, thinking about the two of them—and their daughter.
Her biggest fear was that she might be setting herself up for a major disappointment, one that would hurt Ellen, too.
Chapter 24
—Cecil Miskin, owner, Buffalo Gold, www.buffalogold.net Lydia Goetz
“Casey!” Cody shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Phone!”
Casey stuck her head out her bedroom door. “I got a phone call?” she asked, sounding more than a little surprised. In the month and a half Casey had been living with us, she hadn’t received a single call. When I’d asked her about this, she’d shrugged off the question, answering it with one of her own.
“Why make friends when I’ll be moving at the end of the summer anyway?”
That left me with another question, which I didn’t ask. According to Evelyn Boyle, Casey had attended school in this neighborhood for most of the school year. Did Casey actually mean she hadn’t made a single friend in that whole time? Of course it might just be that none of her school friends were part of the summer program. But then why didn’t she keep in touch with them? It didn’t seem natural to purposely avoid friends, even short-term ones. I’d made friends at summer camp while I was growing up and on vacation with my family. Some of those friendships had been brief, but they’d almost all left me with pleasant memories.
I’d noticed how reticent Casey was about opening up to others. That explained why it’d taken weeks for her to come outside her bedroom for anything other than meals. She liked the three of us, I could tell, and she enjoyed learning and doing new things. Brad and I had grown attached to her. In fact, we’d gone so far as to discuss taking her on as our foster daughter, but Evelyn had already made arrangements with a good family. Twice now, Casey had come to the yarn store and worked for me. Well, maybe worked was a slight overstatement. She wanted to help, so I let her put price tags on skeins of yarn and restock the shelves. Despite a few mistakes, I paid her. Within half an hour, she’d blown that f irst twenty dollars, buying a cover for an iPod she didn’t have. She managed to hold on to the second twenty a bit longer. Two hours, I’d say. Casey seemed to be doing better in her classes, too. I’m convinced that was due to Brad, who’d begun to check her homework every night. He showed limitless patience as he sat with her and explained fractions. The concept was hard for Casey to grasp. She seemed reassured when I told her I’d had a diff icult time with fractions, too. For her, the breakthrough came while she was baking a cake. I’d picked up a variety of mixes, which she made at least twice a week. We’d eaten more cake since her arrival than in the previous two years.
She was mixing a cake when Brad pointed out that she didn’t need to pour in the water and oil separately if she could f igure out how to add a cup and a quarter of water to a third of a cup of oil in the same measuring container. The two of them worked it out together. That practical lesson in fractions led to understanding, and for the f irst time she seemed to actually get it. I was still waiting for Casey to come to the phone. “Who is it?” she called out.
“I don’t know,” Cody yelled. “It’s a boy.”
I smiled. Now, this was an intriguing development. As if she had no interest in answering the phone, Casey came slowly out of her bedroom and shuff led down the hall. I was knitting in the living room, while Brad read the paper—
typical after-dinner activities, in other words. I didn’t listen in on Casey’s phone call, but I was relieved to know she was making friends.
The conversation ended after less than five minutes. I was jolted when she banged down the receiver and raced back to her bedroom. She slammed the door so hard I swear it shook the whole house. Brad glanced up from the paper. “What was that all about?”
“I have no idea, but I think I should f ind out.”
His nod told me he agreed.
I gave Casey ten minutes to cool down, then knocked politely on her bedroom door.
She ignored me.
“Casey?” I called. “What’s wrong?” I knew better than to ask if anything was wrong. From experience I realized she’d deny it. No answer.
I stood by the edge of the bed and gently stroked her hair. She shook off my hand.
“I…don’t…need…anyone.” Each word was said from between clenched teeth.
“Who was that on the phone?”
“No one.”
“It would be kind of difficult for no one to make a telephone call.”
She clearly didn’t appreciate my weak attempt at humor. I stayed with her for a few more minutes. Everything about her body language told me she didn’t want me there. The longer I stayed, the more she seemed to stiffen with resentment. She couldn’t have made her feelings any plainer. I hate to admit how discouraged I was. I’d been willing to listen and reassure Casey. I wanted her to conf ide in me. I yearned to hold her and show her how much I cared, to tell her that if her heart was broken, then so was mine. Instead, she rejected every overture of comfort.
Her dismissal hurt. I blinked back tears as I silently rose and left her alone. I sat in the living room not sure what to think. After a while Brad lowered the paper. “You upset about something?” he asked. Sometimes men can be so obtuse. Obviously I was upset! All he had to do was look at me to know that.
“Yes,” I snapped.
My husband has the most expressive eyebrows I’ve ever seen. They inched toward his hairline, conveying sympathy—and a bit of shock at my rudeness. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. I crossed my arms and shook my head. I suppose I was acting like a rebellious child but at the moment I didn’t care. Having Casey live with us hadn’t been easy. This girl came complete with a matched set of emotional baggage.
“I take it this has to do with Casey?” Brad continued. Cody dashed into the living room, Chase at his heels. He halted abruptly when he saw us. “Are you guys f ighting?”
“No,” Brad answered. “Your mom’s worried about Casey. Can you tell us anything about that phone call you took earlier?”
Cody sat down next to his father. “I heard him say his name was Lee.”
“Lee,” I repeated, dropping my arms. I leaned forward and looked at Brad. “That’s her brother.” And then all at once I knew. “When I took Casey to visit him, Lee told her he was going to college and would be getting a job.”
“And he’d send for her,” Brad murmured.
“She also said he was considering the army.”
“If he does, she won’t be moving in with him.”
It was the only thing that would distress Casey this much. That short visit with her brother had given her hope—hope of getting out of the system, hope of being with him, hope of living a normal life.