Masquerade (17 page)

She dropped her head. At least Mother could’ve allowed Celeste to adopt her baby out. Give the child life and a chance. But that was vintage Mother—if Celeste couldn’t have the baby, no one would. Oh, how she wished she could go back and do things over.

Celeste picked up a red crayon and made an arc on the inside of the heart-shaped card. “Well, I hope so, Lily. I hope you do find a forever mommy.” Underneath the red arc, she layered the other colors of the rainbow in sequence
—
orange, yellow, green, light blue, dark blue, and violet—seven colors forming a rainbow splash across the middle of the card.

Lily peeked at Celeste’s drawing, drew her shoulders up and grinned. “My bestest thing. God likes rainbows. Me too.”

Under the rainbow, Celeste wrote
Happy Valentine’s Day to a special little girl.

“Read, Teacher Tater.”

“Not now, Lily.” She squeezed the child. “On Friday.”

Celeste stood and addressed the rest of the class. “Okay, boys and girls, time to clean up.”

A moan from Mark. “Ah, Mrs. Tatem, you’re not so funny.” He swung his fist in the air. “I not finished yet.”

“You can finish tomorrow, Mark. Now, help Mrs. Kelly put the crayons back in the bucket.”

Amelia’s students followed suit, and soon the children lined up at the door ready to go home for the evening. Since multiple snow storms had left the parking lot a mess, parents pulled up to receive their children rather than come to the room. Celeste and her aides walked the children to the exterior door. Amelia helped the bus riders mount the steps of the bus while Barbara assisted one child after another into waiting vehicles.

On the sidewalk, Lily held Celeste’s gloved hand. “Juice sky.”

Celeste pulled her woolen scarf tighter around her neck and looked up. Sure enough, a purplish hue filled the sky, something like the shade of grape Kool-Aid and orange juice mixed together.

She laughed, and a warm sensation flooded her body. It felt so good. “Well, you know, it does look like juice.” She squeezed Lily’s mittened hand, so soft and small.

Will you be my mommy?
Lily’s words floated through Celeste’s mind. What would it be like to have Golden Girl as her own daughter? A fleeting thought.  She

was single; she’d never be allowed to adopt a child. Or would she?

When Sonya Miller pulled to the curb, Celeste helped Lily into the front seat of the van. Five other children bounced in the two back seats. This woman had her hands full. It was commendable of her and her husband to take in another child. And clearly, Mrs. Miller had impacted Lily’s life. But for how much longer? She had already indicated the family may not be able to keep the child.

Door closed, the van tires spun away. With a grin, Lily turned and waved to Celeste. Hand on hip, Celeste waved back. When the vehicle maneuvered onto the road and disappeared, her smile melted into a frown.

Mental note: Visit the Miller residence.

###

Three weeks later, Celeste and her aides exited Barbara’s Datsun parked in the Miller’s driveway. Time for the March home visit.

Patches of snow littered the ground, but temps crept toward the mid-forties with the promise of warmer weather to come. Overhead, cirrus clouds moved through the blue-gray sky at a rapid pace.

The rambling farmhouse stood between two massive cornfields. Attached to an iron pole, a sign with the words
Green Acres
gently rocked in the breeze. The threesome stepped onto the sidewalk leading to the wrap-around porch. The house needed a paint job, but other  than  that, appeared  well  kept.  Protected from the

winter wind, a swing hung close to the ceiling of the porch.

The screen door squeaked when Celeste opened it. She knocked and waited. Again, she rapped on the wooden door. The threesome exchanged glances. Celeste checked her watch. “Four-thirty. We’re not early.”

Barbara walked to one end of the porch and peered around the corner of the house. “Maybe we should try the side door.”

As the three started for the steps, the door swung open. Celeste turned to see Sonya Miller, dressed in a corduroy jumper, standing in the doorway holding a toddler. His hair disheveled, tears streaked his cheeks. He twitched his runny nose and worked his lower lip into a pout.

Sonya jostled the little boy. “He just woke up from his nap. It takes him a while to adjust. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Barbara leaned forward and stroked the child’s cheek. The boy burrowed into his mother’s jumper, but a small smile played on his lips.

“Please, come in.” Sonya directed them to a parlor left of the foyer.

At the far end of the room two small windows hugged a fireplace equipped with a woodstove. A brown velour sofa with large rust-colored flowers sat beneath a huge bay window, home to a variety of plants. Across from the couch, two chairs—one matching the sofa and the other a maple rocker—rested beside an upright piano, sheet music littered across the front.

“Can I get you ladies something to drink? Fresh lemonade, perhaps?” Sonya tried to curl her poker-straight hair behind her ear and shifted the boy from one arm to the other. A back door banged, and children’s voices filled the air.

“No, nothing for us.”

“You sure?”

Celeste nodded.

“Well, make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” Sonya’s tired eyes flashed a look of distress.

Celeste sat on the sofa, Barbara in the rocker, and Amelia in the matching chair. Given the heat from the woodstove, Celeste shrugged out of her coat. Her aides followed suit.

Scrapping and arguing arose from the kitchen. The refrigerator door slammed. Four children of varying shapes and sizes streamed into the foyer and up the stairs, followed by Lily, who paused to grin at her teachers. She hovered on the bottom step, Pooh bear stuck under her arm. She waved and blew kisses.

Sonya traipsed back through the foyer. Now toddling behind her, the little boy whined and tugged at her dress. “Go upstairs, Lily, while I talk with your teachers.”

Golden Girl blew one more kiss, and Celeste smiled and sent one back. The child teetered, slowly navigating each step until at last she disappeared.

Sonya set the boy on a mat that rested atop the old hardwood floor, then spread some toys around him. The toddler  happily  delved  into  play, dumping  a  carton  of

blocks. Using her foot, Sonya swept a few runaway blocks toward the boy, then perched on the piano bench. Clearly on edge, she laced her fingers in a death grip and placed them in her lap. Her large eyes peered from beneath thin bangs.

“I’m sorry for all the confusion. End of a school day, you know, and this little one here,” she pointed to the toddler now unlatching the door on a Fisher Price barn, “didn’t get a long enough nap, I’m afraid.”

“No problem. We won’t take much of your time. But thank you for having us in today.” Celeste reached for some papers in her satchel. “Lily is such a sweetheart. And she’s really trying hard. Here are her latest papers.”

Sonya studied the work.

“I think she’s shown marked improvement, don’t you?”

Sonya’s eyes filled with tears. She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t think she’d ever be able to walk, let alone write her name.”

‘Tell us more about Lily. Her records indicate she’s been through physical therapy.”

Sonya retrieved a tissue from her jumper pocket and blew her nose. “Yes, when we took her in she was in the midst of therapy three times a day. Thankfully, even though the doctors said she’d be a vegetable for the rest of her life, her previous foster family worked with her and provided therapy. Finally, she could sit up and crawl.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” Barbara leaned forward in the rocker, feet planted squarely on the floor.

“The wife contracted a serious illness right after they moved to Schreiber. You see, the husband’s job transferred him from Fort Wayne to here. Well, with the sickness, they could no longer care for Lily. She’d been with the family for a year.” Sonya fiddled with the tissue and stared into space. “It was a difficult transition for the little girl, as you can imagine, after being jostled from one home to the next. A nightmare, really. Tantrums. Then isolation for days on end. Not by us, but self-imposed. She simply wouldn’t respond to anyone. Just sat in a corner, face turned to the wall. If we hadn’t been convinced God wanted us to care for her, we would’ve given up.” The bench made a cracking sound as she shifted her weight. “Finally, after several months with us, at age three, she took her first steps.”

“You’ve made a significant difference in this child’s life.” Amelia said.

Jumping and giggles emanated from the second floor. 

Sonya sighed. “The children drew her in. They’ve loved Lily like a sister. We all felt such triumph when she began to liven up. And now, well, I don’t have to tell you, she’s such a joy to be around. She encourages everyone who crosses her path.”

Barbara rested back and smiled. “Love has a way of doing that.”

Sonya gasped a sob.

Barbara exchanged a concerned glance with Celeste.

“What’s  happened?”    Celeste  cupped  her  hands

over her knees.

“Sam lost both his jobs due to cutbacks.” Sonya pressed the tissue to her mouth. “Naturally, we can no longer verify our income meets household expenses. Our caseworker, Charlotte Donovan, says Lily will either have to be placed with another family or in a group facility until someone comes forward to adopt her.” Sonya studied the floor. “There’s not a huge waiting line.” Her gaze fluttered to Celeste. “Actually, there’s none at all. I hate to see her taken to a group home. I fear that would extinguish her light all together.”

“Perhaps you underestimate Lily.” Barbara placed her hand on Sonya’s arm.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s older now. Your family has modeled a zest for life, which Lily has absorbed as her own.”

Sonya clutched the tissue between her folded hands. “Yes, a zest for life. God put that there. We prayed so hard for her,” her face broke out in a tenuous smile, “and now her little light shines.”

Barbara nodded and squeezed Sonya’s hand. There appeared to be a “knowing” between the two women that Celeste didn’t share. Her aide was at it again. More God stuff.

Celeste cleared her throat. “What if someone did step forward to adopt Lily?”

With a slight shake of her head, Barbara frowned and compressed her lips.

“Well, prayerfully, the family would love Jesus and continue  to  rear Lily to love and serve Him,”  Sonya said.

“That has been our prayer from day one. We hoped we would get to be that family, but perhaps God has another plan.”

Celeste gnawed on her lower lip. Time to get back to a tangible fix, not some ethereal mumbo-jumbo that ultimately wouldn’t help Golden Girl out of her predicament. “What if a single woman wanted to adopt Lily?”

Sonya rubbed a hand over her cheek. “A family would be best. A family with both a mother and a father. We believe this is God’s ideal as taught in the Bible.”

Here we go again. A mother and a father hadn’t done much good for her. Her jaw stiffened as she fought the anger churning in her gut. Who loved Lily better than she? Celeste would be a loving mother. She deserved a chance. Besides, hadn’t Lily asked Celeste to be her mother? Clearly, Golden Girl loved her and wanted to be with her. They were the perfect fit for one another. They both needed someone.

“Well, I understand your desire, Sonya, but given the circumstances, perhaps at least one loving parent would be better than a group home,” Celeste said.

Sonya’s Adam’s apple bobbed in her throat. “Sam and I will continue to pray. God has an answer. We just don’t know what it is yet.”

Barbara smiled as if in triumph. “And I’m sure in time Sam will get another job.”

“Yes, in time. Our landlord hires him out on occasion to work in the cornfields. There may be some possibility as the spring planting season approaches.  But

that won’t be enough to handle our financial situation.”

“Keep the faith, Sonya. God will provide.” Barbara fumbled around in her purse. “Here’s a little something to help out in the meantime.” She pressed some bills into Sonya’s hand.

Celeste blinked. Was Barbara trying to guilt her and Amelia? Besides, this kind of thing was a bit unorthodox for a parent-teacher meeting. Let the welfare system do its job as needed. Or worker’s compensation. Surely Sam had some sort of severance package or savings to fall back on.

Amelia’s eyelids hung at half-mast. She appeared to be asleep.

Celeste glanced at her watch. She reached for her satchel, stood, and extended her hand toward Sonya. “You’re doing a wonderful job with Lily. I’m sure, as you say, something will work out.”

Amelia sputtered to life and grabbed her purse, and the four women moved to the door.

“Thank you for what you’re doing with Lily.” Sonya’s hand rested on the doorknob.

“We’re privileged to work with her. She’s a jewel, that’s for sure.” Celeste pushed open the screen door, and her aides followed her out.