Sarah's Legacy (7 page)

He ambled lazily across the comforter and stared at me some more. Now, this might sound stupid, but the expression on his face almost looked as though he was asking me a question.

“What do you want?” I gave him a half-hearted pat. His fur was as soft as silk. It was the first time I noticed how nice it felt. He rubbed his face on my arm, purring noisily, then flopped down against me, warm and soft and comforting.

“You can stay this once,” I told him sternly, “but you don't need to think you'll be making a habit of it.”

Arthur squinted in reply, yawned widely, and promptly fell asleep. He barely moved when I crawled under the covers a while later.

The next morning I was awakened by a tongue roughly washing my forehead. Sometime during the night Arthur had made his way up to my pillow and sprawled across the top of it, forming a big furry halo over my head.

“What are you doing up there?” I couldn't help laughing at the sight of his face. He looked enormously pleased with himself.

Then I remembered that I was cross at Mom. It wouldn't do for her to hear me laugh. By the time I'd
showered and dressed I was in just the right frame of mind to show her she wasn't yet forgiven for calling up that Stan creep. I decided to be coldly polite toward her but when I went to the kitchen she wasn't there.

I'd kind of been counting on pancakes for breakfast since Mom always made them for me any time she was home on a weekend morning. Her pancakes are the best, big and light and fluffy. I waited for a few minutes, hoping she'd come along. Then, in case she didn't know I was up, I made some noise opening and closing cupboards and getting a glass of milk out of the fridge.

The cats and dogs were congregating around me by then, mewing and whimpering and just generally going on as if they hadn't eaten for weeks. I figured I might as well feed them. There was no sense in them being hungry too, just because Mom was apparently planning to starve me this morning.

They followed me into the pantry, and the dumb cats shoved their heads in the way as I filled the bowls. You'd think they'd know enough to stand back for two seconds until the food was in their dishes, but that would have been asking too much from this crew. I finally got the dishes all filled and went back to the kitchen. Still no sign of Mom.

I'd given up waiting and was halfway through a bowl of Cheerios when Mom showed up.

“I was really in the mood for pancakes this morning,” I said accusingly. I figured she might as well know that she'd just given me yet another reason to be displeased with her.

Instead of answering right away, she went to the counter and got the coffee maker set up. It wasn't until she'd poured a cup and sat down at the table that she spoke.

“First of all, Sarah, I'm not your servant. Second, the way you spoke to me last night was inexcusable. And third, you might as well know right now that I am
not
going to put up with this attitude.”

Well, that wasn't quite what I'd been expecting! Before I could form an answer, she went on.

“If I should decide to start seeing Stan, or anyone else, for that matter, I expect you to show some respect. You will
not
make snide remarks to me. You will
not
be rude, make faces, roll your eyes, or slam doors. Is that perfectly clear?”

“Yes.” A lump had formed in my throat and I swallowed hard to get rid of it. Mom never talks to me that way. It made me feel horrible but I didn't want her to see that I cared. Obviously, this stupid Stan creep was more important than me.

“From the moment you were born,” she went on, her voice softening, “I devoted my entire life to you. I sacrificed and struggled and did the best I could. I know you
haven't had everything you might have liked, but that was never because I didn't try. And now, when things are easier for both of us, I finally have a chance to have a life for
myself
, too. I don't think that's asking too much. I've been alone for more than a dozen years and it hasn't been easy but I did it because you came first. And you still do. But there are times that life is pretty lonely for me.”

Her voice trailed off in a kind of sad whisper at the end, and the sound of it cut right into me. I'd never thought of Mom as being lonely. It was a strange thing to take in. She'd never complained and I'd always thought she was perfectly content with things just the way they were. I felt selfish and mean for the way I'd acted.

“Stan seems like a nice fellow,” she added slowly, as if she was being very careful about what she said. “He's kind and thoughtful, that's plain to see. Now, I don't know if he and I have much in common, or whether or not we'll ever even actually date. I admit I didn't much take to him at first, but he sort of grew on me. I've decided there's no harm in spending a little time with him and seeing where it goes. It would be nice to have someone in my life.”

I told Mom I was sorry (and I really was) and promised to be nice to Stan. The weird thing was that all of a sudden I actually
wanted
her to have a boyfriend, even if it
was
someone who nodded all the time.

I was especially helpful to Mom all day. I thought that would make up for the mean way I'd acted last night, but even after I'd given her a hand with housework and meals I didn't feel a whole lot better. My hateful words kept echoing in my head and I couldn't stop picturing the way her face had looked when she'd left my room.

When I was dusting the living room I nearly started crying, thinking about what Mom had said to me that morning. I wondered why I hadn't ever realized that she felt lonely sometimes. I had to admit that I'd been so wrapped up in myself I'd never once stopped to wonder about her. It made me feel small and selfish.

I even volunteered for the gross, disgusting job of cleaning out the litter boxes. When we'd first moved in, I'd suggested that we pay David to keep doing that, but
Mom insisted that taking care of the cats included the unpleasant tasks. Thank goodness it only has to be done twice a week.

I swear that all these darned cats do is eat, sleep, and fill their litter boxes! My stomach churned as I emptied them into garbage bags. I rinsed them out before refilling them and sprinkled some powder that's supposed to keep the smell down. I felt so grungy when I was done that I went and took a shower, even though I'd already had one earlier. Even so, I was glad that I'd done that without complaining. It made me feel better, and the guilty feeling I'd been carrying seemed to lift a little. By dinner time, I felt almost back to normal.

We had yummy Caesar salad with chunks of chicken in it for dinner and I was just clearing the table when there was a knock on the door. I opened it, expecting to see Stan, and was surprised to find David standing there instead.

“I hear you poor helpless women need some muscle around here,” he said.

I remembered then that Mom had asked him to come over so he could help Stan move my hope chest upstairs.

“Oh, yeah. Come on in.”

“Hey Fester, Sammy.” He squatted down to greet a couple of the cats. They rubbed against him happily. “Whatcha been up to?”

“Not much.” As soon as I'd answered I realized he'd been talking to the cats, which made me feel foolish. To make it worse, I'd begun to notice that David is pretty cute. A girl hates to look dumb in front of cute guys.

“Me either,” he said, smoothing over my obvious embarrassment. I was glad that at least he couldn't read my mind. He looked around as if he was searching for something to say, then came up with, “So, I guess you're all settled in and stuff.”

“Yeah. Anyway, we didn't have that much with us. Just clothes, mainly.”

“You like the school?”

“It's okay.”

“I'm at James M. Hill this year,” he said. “It's way better than the middle school. They don't treat us like babies there.”

There was silence for a very long minute. Then David said it was getting warmer outside every day and I agreed that this was true. Following that remark, he added that it would soon be summer and I concurred with him on that score as well.

Thankfully another knock on the door came just then, ending our pitiful attempt to make conversation. It was Stan, nodding and smiling as usual. I reminded myself that I was going to be super nice to him.

“This is David Murray, our neighbour,” I began, but my introduction trailed off when I realized I couldn't remember Stan's last name.

“David!” Stan boomed, reaching a hand out. “Nice to meet you. I'm Stan Reynolds.”

“
The
Stan Reynolds?” David's eyes got bigger as Stan pumped his hand, nodding all the while. “The boxer?”

Stan got that look of someone who doesn't want to seem too pleased but can't help it. “Guilty as charged,” he said, nodding some more. “You a boxing fan, son?”

“I watch some of the fights with my dad,” David said excitedly. “He says you're the best amateur fighter this town's ever seen. Says you could have turned pro and had a shot at a title.”

“What's this?” Mom came along then, dressed in an awesome new outfit. Her hair was a little different, too, and she had lipstick on. I blinked and stared, barely able to believe this was my mom. She looked great.

Stan stared too.

“Did I hear you say that you're a boxer?”

“A few amateur fights, hardly worth mentioning,” Stan said. He had that bashful air about him that people have when they're pretending they don't want you to make a big fuss over them but they really do. He was obviously hoping Mom would be impressed.

“He's the best! Never been beaten,” David volunteered with hero worship in his eyes.

“Well, I think boxing is barbaric,” Mom said calmly. I stifled a giggle while Stan looked crestfallen. David's face had grown indignant, but before he could protest, Mom changed the subject.

“I asked David to come over and help move this trunk upstairs to Sarah's room,” she explained to Stan, motioning toward the chest. “It's too heavy for us.”

“Well, sure, no problem.” Stan forced himself to sound cheerful again. “We'll get that done in jig time, won't we, David?”

They each took hold of one end and lugged it out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the stairs. Stan instructed David to go ahead up the stairs so that he would have most of the weight on him as he followed. It was comical how they both tried to act as if it wasn't that heavy for them, in spite of the fact that their faces were getting red from the effort and they were breathing in short, grunting gasps. They were winded by the time they reached the landing.

“Set it down for a minute,” Stan puffed breathlessly. “We'll need to swing it around before we go on.”

The second section of stairs is shorter than the first and they cleared them quickly once they'd got going again. From there, it was only a few feet to my room. I hurried in behind them as they sat the chest down with a thud.

“Well, then, Sarah, where would you like us to put it?”

I pointed to the spot I'd picked out under the window. They got it into place and then Stan pulled it forward away from the wall.

“Is it okay for me to open it?” he asked. “I need to make sure it's not too close to the wall for the lid to stay up.”

I nodded. I have to admit that I thought it was nice he'd asked me first instead of just going ahead and opening it. He adjusted it a few inches at a time until there was room for the top to swing up and stay open.

“These old trunks are real works of craftsmanship,” Stan said, running his hand over the surface. “I suppose you know about the compartment in the top.”

“What compartment?”

“Here.” He pointed to the chest's lid and then swung it open. “See how it's closed in? There should be a latch of some sort … yes, here it is.” He fumbled with a metal leaf and turned it sideways. A flap fell open revealing a storage place in the rounded lid.

“Cool.” David leaned forward to peer at it. “There's stuff in there, too.”

My heart beat a little faster as I saw that there was indeed a number of things in there. Each small parcel was wrapped in navy blue cloth and tied with a piece of faded yellow ribbon.

I was dying to see what they held, but not with everyone standing around! And then Mom commented that we'd better get going or we'd be late for the movie.

“Say, David, why don't you join us?” Stan suggested. “My treat.”

To my surprise, David didn't turn down the offer. Instead, he called home to let them know where he was going, and the next thing I knew the four of us were on our way to the theatre. I kept reminding myself that it wasn't a date or anything but I couldn't help hoping that someone from my class at school might happen to be there and see me with David.

Ididn't know what we were going to see at the theatre until we got there. Mom had told Stan to go ahead and pick so I figured it would be a guy movie with lots of action or, if he was trying to impress Mom, a chick flick.

Instead, it was a comedy, and a pretty funny one at that. We all laughed a lot, and for a while I even stopped wondering about the other contents of my hope chest.

About halfway through the movie I noticed Stan taking hold of Mom's hand. She just kept watching the show and didn't react, but she didn't pull her hand away either. I missed an entire scene worrying that he might do something really gross like try to kiss her right there in front of me and David. Lucky for him, he didn't try a stunt like that. There's only so much a girl can stand for when it comes to her mother.

Of course, I'm not stupid. I knew that if they ended up officially dating he'd be kissing her. I just didn't want to see it.