Debbie Macomber_Blossom Street 04 (24 page)

“M
om,” Anne Marie said, speaking softly into the receiver. It was late Monday evening, and Ellen had just gone to sleep. The poor kid still wasn’t sleeping well, so Anne Marie didn’t want to risk waking her. Every night since Dolores’s death, Ellen had ended up crawling into bed with Anne Marie and crying herself to sleep. The girl had suffered yet another loss. Being taken out of school, informed that her grandmother was dead and then shuffled off to a foster home hadn’t helped.

“Anne Marie?” her mother murmured. “My goodness, I haven’t heard from you in weeks. Is something wrong? There must be if you’re phoning me this late.”

“I should’ve called earlier.” Handling the funeral arrangements and looking after Ellen had kept her busy. But the truth was, it hadn’t occurred to her to contact her mother until that night.

Even now she hesitated, fearing her mother’s reaction once she learned that Anne Marie was going to adopt
Ellen. Her mother had made her disapproval known when she decided to marry Robert. She’d been equally negative when Anne Marie purchased the bookstore. Laura wasn’t a risk-taker and she’d been convinced that Anne Marie would be throwing away her investment. She generally believed in living a cautious, conventional life, although she wouldn’t have put it in those terms.

Despite her mother’s reactions in the past, Anne Marie felt compelled to seek her out. Perhaps it had to do with becoming a mother herself….

Might as well just blurt it out. “I thought I should tell you that you’re about to become a grandmother.”

A strained silence followed her announcement.

“You’re…pregnant?” Once again, Laura Bostwick’s reproach was evident. “I know you want a baby, Anne Marie, but I don’t think you have any idea what life’s really like for a single mother. Oh, dear…”

“It isn’t…I’m not—” Anne Marie didn’t get the opportunity to explain before her mother interrupted her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s the father? No, don’t tell me. Obviously there’s a problem, otherwise you would’ve married him. You
aren’t
secretly married, are you?”

“No, I—”

“I don’t need to know any more about him. He’s married, I suppose?”

“Mom!”

“Sorry, sorry. I said not to tell me and then like a fool I ask. It’s none of my business. Well, you’re going to have a child. When are you due?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” she began.

“For heaven’s sake, you haven’t done anything stupid, have you?”

“What do you mean?” Anne Marie asked, a little taken aback.

“Artificial insemination, that’s what. I heard about it at the hairdresser’s. Apparently a lot of women are using artificial methods to get pregnant. Please don’t tell me you went to one of those fertility clinics and—”

“Mother, I’m
adopting
.”

She’d finally shocked her mother into total silence.

“Remember Ellen Falk?”

“Who?”

“I was her Lunch Buddy. You met her the Saturday before St. Patrick’s Day. We had lunch with you.” Surely her mother hadn’t forgotten.

There was another silence. Then Laura said, “Let me see if I have this straight. This second-grade girl you agreed to have lunch with once a week is the one you’re going to adopt?” Her mother sounded incredulous.

“Yes, Mom. She came to stay with me, remember?”

“Well, yes, and I told you I thought it was rather nervy of that girl’s grandmother to call you in the middle of the night.”

“Dolores Falk died.”

This information appeared to unsettle Laura. “Oh…dear. That is a shame.”

“Ellen doesn’t have anyone else,” Anne Marie said.

“You’re fond of the child?”

“I love her as though I’d given birth to her myself,” Anne Marie confessed. “I’ve already talked to the social worker and asked to be considered as Ellen’s adoptive mother.” She closed her eyes, certain her mother would discourage her, as she had with every important decision Anne Marie had ever made, from the school she’d chosen to the man she’d married.

“Oh, Anne Marie…”

She waited for it.

“I think that’s a wonderful thing to do.”

Her jaw fell so fast and hard, Anne Marie was surprised she hadn’t dislocated it. “You…think I’m doing the right thing?”

“My dear girl, you’re old enough to decide what you want to do with your own life. If this child means so much to you, then by all means bring her into the family.”

As far as Anne Marie could remember, this was the first time in her adult life that her mother had supported her choices. She didn’t understand it, other than to assume the child had won over her mother’s heart in the hour or two they’d spent together.

“There won’t be any legal problems, will there?” Laura went on to ask.

“I don’t know.” Evelyn Boyle had to do a search for Ellen’s birth certificate and find out who was listed as the father. He would need to be contacted and given the opportunity to state his wishes.

Anne Marie was pretty sure Ellen’s biological father didn’t even know she existed. But if Evelyn managed to track him down… He could decide to declare his parental rights and Anne Marie would have no option but to relinquish Ellen. The thought made her feel ill.

“What about her biological mother?”

“She gave up all rights to her daughter three years ago when Ellen went to live with her grandmother.”

“Does that mean the mother can’t change her mind?”

“It’s too late for that. Anyway, if it wasn’t for Dolores, Ellen might’ve been put up for adoption years ago.”

“Oh.”

“The social worker was encouraging.” The fact that
Ellen was living with Anne Marie and that they’d so obviously bonded was a hopeful sign. However, the issue of Ellen’s biological father still had to be resolved.

Anne Marie suddenly remembered something. “The wishes.”

“I beg your pardon?” her mother said. “Stop mumbling, Anne Marie. How many times do I have to tell you? Speak up.”

“Sorry, Mom. I was just thinking out loud.”

“What was that about wishes? That’s what you said, isn’t it? It certainly sounded like
wishes
.”

“Ellen has a list of wishes. Twenty wishes.” Anne Marie had no intention of referring to her own list or those of the other widows. Her mother would no doubt throw scorn on the idea or dismiss it as childish.

“Children do that sort of thing,” her mother said, confirming her suspicion. “I wouldn’t give it any mind. I suppose she wished for a mother and father?”

“No, no…nothing like that.” Then, because she felt she had to explain after bringing it up, she said, “Ellen wants to meet her father.”

“Every child wants that. My guess is she’s well rid of him.”

The rest of the conversation made no impact on Anne Marie. A few minutes after she ended the call, she wandered into Ellen’s tiny bedroom and watched the child as she slept, one hand flung out and resting on the dog, who was cuddled up close beside her. The poor kid was exhausted and seemed to be lost in her dreams.

Earlier, in between working at the store and looking after Ellen, Anne Marie had called the school. She’d updated Helen Mayer, who’d cheered when Anne Marie told her about adopting Ellen. She’d even offered a
character reference should any be needed in the adoption process.

Anne Marie was just afraid the proceedings might not get that far.

On Saturday morning, three days after Dolores’s death, they’d visited the funeral home and arranged for a small private service. A short obituary written by Anne Marie appeared in the paper. Several neighbors stopped by on Sunday to pay their respects.

The house was a rental property and Anne Marie had until the end of the month to get it cleaned out and ready for the next tenants.

That afternoon, with a few friends gathered around, Anne Marie and Ellen had laid Dolores Falk to rest. Throughout the service, Ellen stayed by Anne Marie’s side. She didn’t weep, although her eyes filled with tears more than once. Afterward, they’d returned to the apartment alone.

“I think Grandma Dolores was ready to live with Jesus,” Ellen had said calmly as she reached for her knitting bag. She seemed to find solace in knitting.

“What makes you say that?”

She’d glanced up. “I saw it in her eyes. She told me she was tired.”

Anne Marie had thought her heart would break.

Late Tuesday afternoon, Anne Marie and Ellen were in the apartment, planning a visit to Dolores’s house to sort out what to keep and what to give away, when the phone rang. It was Cathy in the bookstore. “The social worker’s here to talk to you. Should I send her up?”

“Yes, please.” Evelyn Boyle had said she’d hoped to attend the memorial service the previous day; she’d also
said she had a court date and wasn’t sure how long that would last.

Anne Marie waited anxiously for her at the top of the stairs.

“How did everything go yesterday?” Evelyn asked, taking the steps one by one.

“It was very nice.” Several of Dolores’s neighbors had attended, and Helen Mayer from the school had been there, too, along with Lydia, Elise and Lillie. Dolores had requested that her remains be cremated; Anne Marie and Ellen would receive the ashes at a later date.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Anne Marie bit her lip until it hurt. “Do you have news?”

“I do.” The middle-aged woman paused on the landing and placed her hand over her heart. “Stairs are God’s way of telling me I’m not getting any younger.”

Anne Marie resisted the urge to shake her by the shoulders and demand to know what she’d learned. “Come in, please,” she invited, doing her best to disguise her nervousness.

The social worker stepped into the kitchen. Ellen sat at the table knitting, with Anne Marie’s notes for the disbursement of Dolores’s belongings scattered about. “My goodness,” Evelyn murmured, “who taught you to knit so well?”

“Anne Marie,” Ellen said without looking up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Boyle, but I can’t talk now. I’m counting stitches.”

“Perhaps you could move into the living room so Ms. Boyle and I can chat. Okay?” Anne Marie said.

“Okay.” With the ball of yarn under her arm, Ellen carried her wool and needles into the other room and, Anne Marie hoped, out of earshot.

Evelyn Boyle pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down as Anne Marie gathered up her notes and put them in a loose pile. Evelyn placed her briefcase on the table and opened it, then ceremoniously removed Ellen’s file.

Anne Marie sat across from her. Waiting…

“I located a copy of Ellen’s birth certificate and the father is listed—”

Anne Marie’s heart slammed hard against her ribs. She hadn’t expected this. “You have a name?” Okay, she’d deal with it. No matter what, Anne Marie would find a way to be part of Ellen’s life and she didn’t care what it cost.

Evelyn frowned. “If I’d been allowed to finish, you would’ve heard me say that Ellen’s father is listed as unknown.”

“That means…” Anne Marie was too excited to complete the question.

“It means that as far as the State of Washington is concerned, you’re free to adopt Ellen Falk.”

“Thank you,” Anne Marie whispered, her throat thickening with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

“Have you said anything to Ellen?”

Anne Marie hadn’t felt she could until she had all the facts. “Not yet.”

“Then let’s tell her now.” The social worker called out to the eight-year-old. “Ellen, would you please join us in the kitchen?”

Ellen immediately came inside and sat down in the chair next to Anne Marie.

“Hello, Ellen.”

The child regarded the social worker suspiciously. Anne Marie didn’t blame her; it was Evelyn Boyle who’d taken her out of class and uprooted her entire life with the news of her grandmother’s death.

Hoping to reassure Ellen, Anne Marie leaned over and gently touched her arm.

“What would you think if Anne Marie became your mother?” Evelyn asked. “Would you like that?”

Ellen didn’t answer right away. Then she turned and looked at Anne Marie. “Would I call you Mom?”

“If you wanted,” Anne Marie said. “Or you could call me Anne Marie. Whatever you prefer.”

“Could I have play dates with my friend Cassie if you were my mom?”

“Yes, of course.” Anne Marie remembered the day of the school concert, when she’d been approached by the mother of Ellen’s friend about a possible exchange of play dates.

Ellen looked from Anne Marie to the social worker. “Would it mean no one could ever take me away again?”

“No one, not ever,” Anne Marie promised.

Ellen shrugged. “I guess it would be all right.”

“You
guess?
” Anne Marie teased. “You guess?”

Ellen’s face lit up with a huge smile. “I’d like it a whole lot.”

“I would, too,” Anne Marie told her.

Ellen bounded out of her chair and threw her arms around Anne Marie’s neck.

“Wonderful,” Evelyn Boyle whispered. “This is just perfect. It’s cases like this that make everything else worthwhile.” She opened the file again. “I have all the paperwork with me. Be warned, though, the process will take about six months.”

Anne Marie didn’t care how long it took. The paperwork was a mere formality.

She already had her daughter, and Ellen had her mother.

Nothing would ever come between them again.

“T
ell me where we’re going,” Mark said, wheeling his chair alongside Barbie on 4th Avenue. They’d left Seattle Fitness and, after some pestering on her part, Mark had agreed to join her. She refused to allow his mood to taint this lovely May afternoon. The sun was shining, and she was in love. Mark loved her, too, although he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

“It’s a secret. But we’re going to meet a couple of my friends first,” she explained. He knew that and had already agreed. “Stop acting so cranky.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You might not have noticed, but I don’t do well with most people.”

“I promise you’ll like Anne Marie and Ellen.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Mark, please, we’ve been through this.” She found it difficult to hold back a smile.

“You cheated,” Mark grumbled. “You lured me here under false pretenses, telling me you had a surprise for me.”

“I do have a surprise for you,” she said, ignoring his protests. “Besides, a deal is a deal.”

Mark slowed his pace. “I might be in a wheelchair, but…”

“A wheelchair doesn’t have anything to do with this.” They’d struck a bargain, and she was going to ensure he kept his part of it. She’d promised him dinner and an evening for just the two of them—after he’d met her friends. She hadn’t told him yet that dinner would be at her house.

“You don’t play fair,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t matter. You agreed.”

“Might I remind you that you had your legs wrapped around my waist at the time?”

“Oh, did I?” She loved being in the pool with Mark, especially when they had the entire area to themselves. It was never more than ten or fifteen minutes at the end of a session, and it didn’t always happen. But when it did…The water seemed to free him, allowing him to show his need for her in ways he never would while sitting in his chair. They played in the water, teased and kissed and chased each other. Gradually, the barriers Mark had erected against her, against the world, were coming down.

“These are two of your gal pals who also have a list of Twenty Wishes, right?”

“Right. Anne Marie has a list and I believe Ellen’s got one, as well.”

Mark still wasn’t satisfied. “But why do I have to meet them?”

She sighed. “Do you need a reason for everything?”

“Well, yes, I do,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s just how I am.”

“I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.”

“Okay, okay, but at least tell me where we’re going now.”

“If you
must
know,” she said, and smiled down at him, “we’re meeting them at a Burger King.” She’d been looking forward to introducing him to Anne Marie for quite a while.

He frowned. “I don’t eat fast food.”

Barbie knew Mark was a real stickler about his diet. For one thing, he had to be careful about his weight.

“We aren’t eating there. I’m making dinner at my place.”

Mark’s frown deepened. “I can’t get into your house,” he muttered.

“Mark,” she said, coming to a halt. “Would I invite you if you couldn’t get your wheelchair into my home?”

He studied her closely. “You have a ramp?”

She nodded.

His eyes revealed his shock. “You’re serious about us. You must be, if you’re going to all this trouble.”

“Are you finished arguing with me now?” She started walking again and had gone several feet before she realized he hadn’t budged. “Are you coming or not?”

Slowly, he wheeled toward her. “You really know how to get to a guy.”

“I’m happy you think so.” The joy that coursed through her was enough to send her dancing through the streets.

When they reached the Burger King restaurant, Barbie held open the door. As soon as they were inside, Ellen skipped toward her. “Barbie! Barbie—” She stopped abruptly when she saw Mark.

“Ellen, this is my friend Mark.”

“Hello,” Ellen said and solemnly held out her hand, which Mark shook. “I saw you before.”

“Did you? Where?”

“At the St. Patrick’s Day party in Freeway Park.”

“Did I see you?”

Ellen shrugged. “You were watching Barbie.”

That wasn’t the way Barbie remembered it. “You were?”

“You didn’t even watch the singers,” Ellen elaborated, studying Mark. “The whole show, all you did was look at Barbie.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably and was saved from having to respond by Anne Marie who’d just joined them.

“You must be Mark,” she said. “Barbie’s told me about you.”

“Has she really?” He twisted around to stare up at her.

“She’s only said the most flattering things,” Anne Marie told him with a grin.

True, Barbie thought; she hadn’t made a secret of how she felt about Mark.

“We’re just finishing our meal.” Anne Marie led them to the table littered with the remains of their dinner. They’d evidently ordered hamburgers and fries.

“Anne Marie and I signed up for karate lessons,” Ellen explained, her excitement unmistakable.

“Karate?” Barbie repeated. “How come?”

“It’s on my list.”

“And I decided I might as well join her,” Anne Marie said.

“We already had one lesson. We’re going to the karate place right after we have our drinks.” She pointed at a carton of chocolate milk.

“Karate, huh? I wouldn’t want to meet either of you alone in a dark alley,” Mark teased. “I can picture it now. You’ll warn me off by telling me you’ve had two—count ’em, two—karate lessons. I’ll be shaking in my boots.”

Ellen giggled.

Barbie noticed that Mark was grinning, too. He so rarely showed any emotion, and it pleased her to know he liked her friends. But then, she’d predicted that he would.

Mark turned to Anne Marie. “You’re the one who started this Twenty Wishes business.”

“Four of us—all widows—came up with the idea together,” Anne Marie said.

“Do
you
have any wishes?” Ellen asked him.

“Yes, indeed,” Mark said. “Several.”

“Have you ever made a list?”

“I can’t say I have, Ellen. Do you recommend it?”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen returned seriously. “It’s helpful if you have a real list. Otherwise you might forget.”

“That’s true,” Mark concurred.

“Your heart has to let your head know what it wants,” the child added.

“You sound very wise for one so young,” Mark said, raising his eyebrows. “Where did you learn this?”

“Anne Marie told me. It’s true, too. I didn’t even know how much I wanted a mom until I put it on my list of Twenty Wishes.”

“You wrote that down?” Anne Marie asked, apparently surprised by this revelation.

Ellen nodded, her eyes downcast.

“You never showed me that.”

“I know,” the girl said. “I wrote your name in pencil beside my wish ’cause if I could choose my own mom, I wanted you.”

Anne Marie slid her arm around Ellen. “If I could have any little girl in the world, it would be you.”

“Anne Marie’s adopting Ellen,” Barbie explained for Mark’s benefit.

“We’d better scoot.” Anne Marie smiled. “Like Ellen said, we’re on our way to karate.”

“Karate Kid and Mom, the sequel,” Barbie joked.

“After that, we’re going to see Melissa and help her work on wedding plans,” Ellen said excitedly.

“That’s my stepdaughter,” Anne Marie told Mark.

“I might get to be in the wedding! Melissa said she needs a little girl to help serve the cake and Anne Marie said what about Ellen and Melissa said she thought that was a good idea.”

“I think it’s a grand idea myself.” Barbie knew the difficult relationship Anne Marie had with her stepdaughter and was delighted by the way things had changed.

They left, and Barbie sat down in one of the chairs vacated by her friends. “So,” she murmured, “you only had eyes for me last March, huh?” She reached for a leftover French fry and dipped it in ketchup.

Mark avoided her gaze. “I didn’t think you’d let that pass.”

“That was just the third time we met.” If it took all night, she’d force him to admit how he felt about her.

“And?”

“And you’re crazy about me,” she insisted.

“I already told you I’m willing to go along for the ride, however long it lasts.” His voice didn’t betray a hint of sentiment.

“Monday-night movies.”

He shrugged casually. “Sure.”

“Lap swims on Tuesday and Thursdays.”

He sloughed that off, as well. “We could both use the exercise.”

“Dinner at my house tonight.”

He hesitated. “Sure. Why not?”

Barbie took a crumpled hamburger wrapper and smoothed it out. Then with the ketchup-dipped fry, she drew a heart. “What am I getting out of this relationship?” she asked in conversational tones. “So far, I seem to be the one doing all the giving.”

Mark tensed. “I’ve asked myself that from the start. I told you anytime you want out, all you need to do is say the word.”

“Just like that?” she asked and snapped her fingers.

“Just like that,” Mark echoed, snapping his own.

“No regrets?”

“None,” he assured her.

“No explanations?”

He shook his head.

“No looking back, either.”

“Not on my end.”

“What if that isn’t enough for me?” she asked.

His face tightened and his eyes went hard. “Let’s clear the air right now.”

“Fine by me.”

“Exactly what do you want from me?” he demanded, none too gently.

Taking the same French fry, she scribbled out the heart. This discussion wasn’t one she’d intended to have and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Her pulse raced. She was afraid that by pressuring him for a response she’d put everything on the line. She’d chosen the one sure way to lose Mark.

“I’m not sure what I want,” she replied, unable to look at him.

“Yes, you are,” he countered, “otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“My list of wishes…” she said, and her voice faltered.

“Oh, yes, those Twenty Wishes you and your friends have.” His tone had a mocking quality, which made her furious.

“You might think they’re silly, but they’re not!” she insisted.

“I didn’t say they were,” he said calmly. He could be so difficult to talk to sometimes. Squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I want.”

“Good. I was hoping you would.”

He wouldn’t like this. The truth would probably scare him off. Still, it was a risk Barbie had to take. “I want to be loved,” she said. There, it was out.

“By me?” he asked.

“You’re the one I love.” She might as well go for broke, and he could either reject her right now or accept her.

For a long time Mark didn’t say anything, and when he did, regret weighted each word. “I don’t want to love you,” he said slowly.

So that was how it was going to be.

Barbie swallowed painfully. Hard as it was, she’d rather he was honest. “Thank you for not leading me on,” she managed to say through quivering lips. She stood up to leave.

Mark caught her hand. “I don’t
want
to love you,” he repeated, “but I do.”

“You love me?” She could hardly believe it, yet she knew it was true. He let his love shine from his eyes and his fingers tightened around hers.

“I have practically from the first moment I saw you at that theater.”

“You tried to kick me out, remember?”

“That’s because you scared me to death,” he said wryly. “But regardless of what I said or did, you wouldn’t go away.”

She offered him a shaky smile and sat back down, dragging her chair close to him, their knees touching.

“Then before I knew it,” Mark muttered, his eyes closed, “I was dreaming about you.”

Barbie savored every word.

“For the first time since the accident, I’d wake up each morning with a sense of…hope. I’d go to the movies and hope you’d stay away and at the same time, I’d hope you’d show up—and then I’d curse myself for being so stupid. Acting like that, I was just looking for more heartache.”

Breathless, Barbie didn’t trust herself to speak. This was everything she’d craved, everything she wanted to hear.

“I’m grateful you came into my life,” Mark said and all his intensity was focused on her. “I can’t say it any plainer than that.”

“You mean
forced
my way into your life, don’t you?”

He laughed and then grew serious again. “You want my heart? You’ve got it, Barbie. You’ve had it all along.” Then he did something completely out of character. Reaching for the paper crown left behind by a birthday group, he placed it on his head and leaned over to kiss her.

Barbie leaned back and stared at him as a chill raced down her arms. With tears blinding her eyes, she held both hands to her lips. Despite all her efforts, she doubled over and started to weep.

“Barbie?” Mark touched her back. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened and noticed that the paper crown sat crookedly on his head.
Her wish.
She’d wanted to be kissed by a prince. She’d known it was a ridiculous request—yet it had been fulfilled.

Mark was her prince. He loved her.

And she loved him.

Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she hugged him with such exuberance she nearly toppled his wheelchair. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

“I certainly hope so,” he muttered. “Now do you think we can get out of here?”

“What’s the matter? Is the aroma of those burgers getting to you and weakening your resolve?”

“The only thing getting to me is you. I think it’s time you showed me what you learned on the Internet.”

Her eyes widened. Mark didn’t need to remind her what she’d looked up weeks ago.

All she needed to know was that he loved her.

As much as she loved him.

Everything else they’d figure out with a little inventiveness and a lot of time.