Summer on Blossom Street (21 page)

Lydia Goetz

I
’d taken a rare Saturday off and wouldn’t you know it, the day was gloomy and overcast. Brad and I had told the kids that if the weather was nice, we’d rent bikes so they could ride around Green Lake. Casey’s eyes got big when we mentioned it, and I learned she’d never done anything like that. Brad and I generally walked; the three miles around the lake was good exercise and we enjoyed the scenery with its aura of peace and serenity.

When we woke to cloudy skies, everyone was dis
appointed, especially Cody. Casey didn’t say much, but I knew she’d been looking forward to the adventure.

“It might not rain,” Cody muttered with his nose pressed against the living-room window.

No sooner had he made his optimistic forecast than the downpour started. Unlike the usual drizzle we get in the Pacific Northwest, it rained buckets, the water hitting the sidewalk with such force it seemed to bounce.

“Put in a movie,” I suggested.

Brad had decided to work in the garage, and I planned to use the opportunity to write my aunt Betty a letter. She was my father’s sister and my godmother and we’d always had a special relationship. Betty didn’t have a computer, so e-mail wasn’t an option, but I liked writing her real letters on the stationery she got me for Christmas.

“Which movie?” Cody said listlessly. He inspected the DVDs we kept next to the television.

I could hear him and Casey discussing what to watch and noticed that Cody let Casey make the choice. She picked
School of Rock
with Jack Black. It was one he’d seen plenty of times and I knew he’d rather see something else. I was proud of him for putting someone else’s desire above his own. Our son was growing up!

As the movie played, I checked in now and then. At one point I discovered that Cody had taken out a jigsaw puzzle Brad had completed last winter and then dismantled. It was a thousand-piece puzzle depicting a Civil War scene, far beyond our son’s skill level. But I didn’t want to discourage him, so I said nothing.

Cody had cleared off the dining-room table and set up the puzzle, just as Brad had months earlier. Then he propped up the box with the painting of Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg and began turning all the pieces faceup, the way he’d seen his father do.

Casey sprawled on the sofa, staring at the screen. Chase lay on the floor nearby and Casey rested one bare foot on his soft back. I wondered why she wasn’t crocheting. From the day Margaret had taught her, she’d had a crochet hook in her hand every spare minute. She’d crocheted five washcloths now and I’d given her some leftover yarn for granny squares, which she seemed to enjoy making.

Then I realized why she was gazing blankly at the TV. She was disappointed that our outing was cancelled because of the weather. I started to tell her we’d do it another day—and stopped. We would, but it might very well be after she’d left for her next foster home. I didn’t want to remind either one of us of that.

When I finished my letter, I sealed the envelope and went in search of a stamp. I thought there might be one on the dining-room hutch. Entering the room to look for it, I saw that Casey had abandoned the movie and was sitting next to Cody at the table.

“You need to find all the border pieces first,” she was telling him. “Here, I’ll help you.”

“Okay.”

Frankly, I’d never believed I’d ever see the two of them working together like this, with no squabbling and no complaining.

After a moment Cody triumphantly held up a corner piece. “Look!”

“Hey, that’s great,” Casey said. “We’ll start building out from there.” She set it on the far side of the table.

I located a stamp, then glanced over at the two of them. I noticed that Casey had allowed Cody to put several pieces in place.

“I want to do it,” Cody said loudly when Casey added a small section she’d been working on.

“Hold on,” Casey muttered.

Okay, so maybe I’d been a bit optimistic. But within a few minutes they’d settled back into their cooperative mood, and I heard nothing but occasional murmurs and yelps of satisfaction.

Around noon Brad came in for lunch. I’d heated tomato soup and made cheese sandwiches. “What’s going on in there?” he asked, gesturing toward the dining room.

“Cody and Casey are putting together a jigsaw puzzle, the same one you did last winter.”

He arched his brows but didn’t comment.

“Lunch is ready, kids,” I said, poking my head inside. When I saw that they’d already finished the entire border, I was impressed. “How’d you get so much done so quickly?”

Holding a single piece in his hand, Cody looked up. “Casey’s really good at this.”

“Hey, you are, too,” she told him.

Cody couldn’t stop grinning, he was so pleased. “Can I eat after?” he asked.

“You’re not hungry?”

“I’d rather work on this.”

I turned to Casey.

“I’ll wait, too. We can reheat the soup later.”

“No problem.” The movie had long since ended,
and the screen was black. I walked over and switched it off, then returned to the kitchen.

Brad and I ate alone, something that hardly ever happened anymore.

“That’s not an easy puzzle, you know,” he said.

I agreed. “They seem to be enjoying themselves, though.”

Brad wolfed down the rest of his sandwich and carried his empty soup bowl to the sink. A moment later, he’d joined the two children, sitting in a chair between them.

When I’d put our few dishes in the dishwasher, I joined the family, too. We worked steadily on the puzzle, with a quick lunch break for the kids, and it must’ve been two hours before I realized the sun was shining through the dining-room window.

“Does anyone want to ride bikes around Green Lake?” I asked.

The three of them looked at me, their eyes blank until my comment registered.

“Hey!” Cody cried, pointing at the window. “The sun’s out!”

Casey’s smile lit up her face.

“Is everyone still game to go to the lake?” Brad asked.

He didn’t need to repeat the question. Cody and Casey let their feelings be known with boisterous hollering.

After some discussion we decided to leave Chase behind. Cody protested loudly but I was afraid the dog would get loose. Chase was otherwise a reasonably well-behaved dog, but he had a bad habit of running ahead, forcing us to chase after him.

When we got to Green Lake, I was pleased to see that it wasn’t nearly as crowded as usual. Like us, many families seemed to have abandoned their weekend plans because of the weather.

Now, just a couple of hours after the rainstorm, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We reached the bicycle rental place and while Brad paid the fees and signed the paperwork, I helped Cody and Casey choose their bikes and put on their helmets. Brad and I thought that instead of walking today we’d cycle, too.

The path around the lake was well laid-out and Cody took off first, with Casey directly behind him. We circled the lake twice before we stopped for ice cream. Sitting on the bench along the pathway, the four of us licked chocolate-dipped cones, hurrying to eat the ice cream before it melted in the hot July sunshine.

“Did you hear about the surgical patient who woke up before the doctor was finished with the surgery?” Brad asked the children. He posed it as a serious question, like something he’d heard on the evening news.

Cody shook his head. “Not me.”

“Me, neither,” Casey said.

“Apparently, the man wanted to finish his own surgery. The surgeon explained that all that remained was the stitches.”

I thought I knew what was coming.

“The man said he could do that, so the surgeon told him to suture himself.”

Cody groaned.

“Good one,” Casey said, grinning broadly. “Suture himself,” she repeated, and burst out laughing.

Cody’s laughter joined hers, while I was content to
roll my eyes and lick my ice cream. Brad was obviously quite happy with himself.

Casey looked at me, her eyes brimming with joy. It was difficult to remember that this was the same angry, defiant girl who’d shown up on our doorstep a few weeks earlier.

“When do we have to return the bikes?” Cody wanted to know.

Brad checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

Cody roared to his feet. “That’s long enough to ride around the lake one more time.” He grabbed his helmet and slammed it on his head. “Last one back is a dead frog.”

Well, I for one had no intention of being referred to as a dead frog, so I finished my cone and hopped on my bike. Cody and Casey were already way ahead of me. Brad took his time but it wasn’t long before he sailed past.

I was the last to arrive at the bike rental shop—to no one’s surprise. Cody leaned against the side of the building with his ankles crossed, as though he’d been waiting there for hours. Brad, who stood beside him, tapped his watch.

“Here comes Lydia, the dead frog,” my husband announced.

Casey bent double with laughter as if this was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Fortunately I’m a good sport.

“You three had better beware. You never know what might turn up in your stew tonight.” I was planning to ask Brad to grill hamburgers, but I wasn’t telling Cody and Casey that. “Frogs, anyone?”

Cody shifted toward Casey and said in a stage
whisper, “Last Halloween Mom made monster eyeballs.”

“Yuck.” Casey pretended to be horrified.

“It was really meatballs with a green olive poking out,” Cody explained.

“Don’t forget the bat wings,” I reminded him.

“They looked like chicken wings to me, but what do I know?” Brad said.

“Ghosts, too,” Cody added. “Those were really just mashed potatoes.”

Casey glanced at me. “You have a great imagination.”

“I try,” I said and looped my arm around her neck as we walked back to the car.

On the way home we stopped at the grocery store and picked up hamburger buns and fresh tomatoes, although Cody and Brad both hated them.

Casey and I liked tomatoes and cheese on our burgers, however, and I wasn’t about to be cheated out of this small treat. While I picked out the best tomatoes, Brad and Cody went to the deli for potato salad and baked beans. We were going to have the perfect summer feast.

While Brad lit the barbecue, Casey and I got everything into serving dishes and set the picnic table in the backyard.

Chase and Cody raced around the grass. Cody tossed a Frisbee in the air and the dog caught it every time.

“You want to throw it?” Cody asked Casey when she’d finished helping me.

She shrugged. “I guess.”

I could see that she was grateful, and again I wanted to hug Cody for his thoughtfulness. Our son was
capable of real sensitivity and I was sure that was due, in part, to the difficult situation with his mother. He hadn’t said much about his visit with Janice a week earlier, and I hadn’t asked. Brad had stayed in the car, listening to the radio, while Cody was up in her condo.

Cody, like any little boy, loved his mother. He loved me, too, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty about his feelings for Janice. I hurt for him that Janice showed so little interest in his life.

During dinner Brad told more of his silly jokes. I remembered a few old knock-knock jokes my father had told when I was a kid. We all laughed rowdily as if we were clever and funny when we were probably neither. We were just having fun as a family.

By the time we’d finished cleaning off the outside table, we decided to work on the jigsaw puzzle again. With the four of us all finding pieces, it was coming together quickly. Eventually, we grew tired of that and gathered around the television to watch a movie Brad had rented while we were at the grocery store. When the final credits rolled, Cody was yawning. It’d been a full, full day.

“Church in the morning,” Brad reminded the two children.

“Do we have to go?” Cody whined.

There were no Sunday School classes during the summer months, which meant Cody had to sit with Brad and me. It was his least favorite thing to do, but his father and I felt it was important.

Casey had accompanied us each week, without comment.

“We’re all going,” Brad informed Cody.

“You’ll be glad you did,” I told him.

“No, I won’t,” Cody said, pouting.

I had to laugh. He was such a typical kid.

“Come on, Chase,” he muttered, starting down the hall toward his bedroom. He paused halfway, then started back.

I thought he might want to argue some more about church. Instead he hugged his father, then walked over to me and threw both arms around my waist.

“I had fun today.”

“So did I,” I said and hugged him back.

As Cody returned to his bedroom, I saw the look of pain in Casey’s eyes.

“Hey, Casey,” I said. “How about a hug from you, too?”

She seemed unsure.

But I didn’t wait for her to come to me; I walked over and gave her a firm hug. “I’m glad you were with us today.”

For a moment I thought she might let her arms dangle at her sides, but then she hugged me. “I had a good time, too.”

“I’m glad.”

“In fact,” she whispered, “it was probably the very best day of my whole life.”

Phoebe Rylander

T
he weekend in Westport with Hutch was incredible and wonderful and exciting. Those were only a few of the words Phoebe could think of to describe their time together.

The condo overlooked the Pacific Ocean on one side and Gray’s Harbor on the other. The community was filled with quaint shops, delectable seafood restaurants and antique stores and seemed completely unspoiled.

Holding hands, they’d walked barefoot along the beach and on Saturday afternoon, Hutch assembled huge, complicated kites for them to fly. Phoebe stood on the shore and laughed hysterically at Hutch’s attempts to keep their strings from tangling. Later on Saturday, after a dinner of Phoebe’s seafood linguine, they sat on the beach in front of a campfire that crackled and shot sparks in the air. Hutch slipped his arm around
her shoulders and drew her close. They didn’t talk; conversation seemed unnecessary. Instead, they’d looked into the mesmerizing flames as the driftwood burned and simply enjoyed being together.

Sunday morning, Phoebe insisted on making a cheese omelet, which Hutch praised as lavishly as he had her pasta the night before. They both grew subdued that afternoon, preparing to return to their respective lives. Phoebe regretted having to leave this idyllic place.

Hutch had kissed her several times, and Phoebe loved being in his arms. He didn’t pressure her to sleep with him, which was a pleasant change from other men she’d dated—Clark in particular.

It was while she sat staring into the fire that she’d realized the biggest difference between the two men and the reason she’d always found an excuse to delay her wedding to Clark.

Hutch was sincere, genuine, kind, while Clark had shown little evidence of those qualities. Clark’s entire world revolved around him—his career, his ambition, his needs. The more time she spent away from him, the more Phoebe saw how blind she’d been. His infidelity had been a blessing wrapped in pain and betrayal. How grateful she was now that she hadn’t married him.

As she sat by the fire on the beach, thinking about Clark, Phoebe’s eyes had welled with tears. She could only feel thankful that she’d recognized the truth before it was too late.

Hutch seemed to believe that her emotions were connected to the death of her fiancé. Phoebe wanted to tell him the truth and knew she needed to do it soon.
She regretted the lie. When she’d first introduced herself to the class, it had just seemed easier than launching into a complicated explanation. This was the weekend she’d planned to tell him about Clark, but she’d been afraid. She hadn’t wanted to ruin their time together, so she’d put it off yet again.

Hutch dropped Phoebe at her apartment around eight on Sunday evening. After giving Princess a few minutes’ attention and refreshing her food and water, Phoebe checked her phone. The message light was blinking wildly. Caller ID informed her that the majority of calls had come from Clark.

Without listening to any of his attempts to contact her, Phoebe deleted each message until she got to her mother’s.

“Phoebe, where are you? Why aren’t you answering the phone?” Her mother’s voice rang with urgency. “Clark’s father suffered a massive heart attack. He’s in the hospital. No one knows what’s going to happen. Please call Clark as soon as you get this. I just pray it isn’t too late.”

Phoebe gasped. She’d always been fond of Clark’s father, and the thought of losing Max shook her badly. Without thinking she grabbed the phone and dialed Clark’s cell.

“Phoebe!” he said. “Thank God you called.”

“How’s your father?”

“He had emergency bypass surgery on Saturday morning. Where were you? No one seemed to have any idea.”

“That isn’t important,” she told him. Phoebe didn’t owe him any explanations and she certainly wasn’t about to tell him she’d been in Westport with Hutch.

Her words had a sobering effect on him. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Listen, Phoebe, Dad asked if you’d come and see him. Will you do that? You know how special you are to my father.”

“Of course I’ll visit him.”

“Would it be possible for you to come now?” Clark asked softly.

“Now?”

“Please. It would mean the world to Dad.”

“I…I suppose.”

Clark gave her Max’s room number at Swedish Hospital, which she wrote down on a pad near the phone. “I have one request,” she said.

“Anything.”

Clark was acting far too agreeable. Perhaps she was being cynical, but past experience had taught her he wasn’t to be trusted.

“If I go to see your father now, you can’t be there.”

“But…” Clark hesitated.

“Agreed?”

“Phoebe, I—”

“That’s my stipulation and either you agree or I’ll arrange another time to come by the hospital.” She’d visit Max during working hours because the one thing she could count on was that Clark wouldn’t show up if it interfered with law-firm business.

Again he paused. “You’ve changed, Phoebe.”

She wouldn’t deny it. “Thanks to you, I’m not the same gullible woman I used to be. I refuse to play your games anymore.”

His tone sobered. “My father’s close to dying, Phoebe. This isn’t a game.”

“I’ll come, Clark, but if you’re anywhere in the vicinity, I guarantee you I’ll walk right out the door.”

Clark laughed.

“You think this is amusing?” she demanded irritably. She refused to let Clark manipulate her as he so often had in the past.

“I like the new you,” he said, cajoling her. “I’ve seen that stubborn streak before, but there’s a new determination in you that intrigues me. If this is how you want it, Phoebe, then so be it.”

“I mean it, Clark.”

“I don’t doubt you for a moment. I won’t be anywhere near the hospital. I promise.”

She wasn’t sure she could trust him and said nothing. If he did “just happen” to stop by, she’d keep her word. She’d simply leave.

As she hung up the phone, Phoebe closed her eyes. Why Max wanted to see her right now, she couldn’t begin to guess. Was his condition really so dire that she had to rush to the hospital immediately?

Reaching for her sweater and purse, Phoebe hurried to the parking garage. All the way to the hospital, she resisted the urge to call Hutch and tell him about this unexpected turn of events.

But she couldn’t discuss Clark with Hutch because he thought her fiancé was dead. That was the problem with a lie: it occasioned other lies and soon you’d created an ever-increasing spiral of them. And when it came to revealing the truth—well, that was difficult. She’d wanted to tell him; Hutch deserved to know about Clark. Yet she hadn’t. She was afraid her deception would taint their relationship. And the longer she
delayed, the more embarrassing and awkward the truth became.

Phoebe found a parking spot on a street that would be well lit once the sun went down and walked the short distance to Swedish Hospital. She wasn’t all that far from Blossom Street.

Really, when she thought about it, she had a great deal for which to thank Clark. If not for him, she would never have met Alix, Lydia and Margaret, or for that matter, Hutch. Just thinking about him produced a sense of anticipation.

She had Max Snowden’s room number, so Phoebe took the elevator directly to his floor and entered the surgical ward.

In the room, Phoebe found Marlene Snowden sitting by her husband’s bedside, holding his hand. Thankfully, Clark was nowhere in sight.

When she saw Phoebe, Clark’s mother released Max’s hand and rose to her feet. “Phoebe! I’m so grateful you’re here.”

Max opened his eyes and smiled, stretching out his arm. “My dear.”

“Oh, Max.” He looked pale and weak, so unlike the robust man she’d known. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“He’s going to get better soon. It’s only a matter of time before he’s back on the golf course and we’re dancing at the country club again. Isn’t that right, Max?” Marlene gazed down at her husband. “Of course, we’ll be making some small lifestyle changes and—”

“Yes, Marlene,” her husband said, cutting her off.

Marlene Snowden sighed. “I know Max wants to talk to you privately,” she said, patting her husband’s
hand, “so I’ll leave you to chat.” She leaned forward and kissed Max on the brow. “I’ll go get a cup of coffee.”

Phoebe watched her go, then turned to Max. “What can I do for you?” she asked, frankly curious.

“You know I’ve always loved you,” Max said hoarsely.

Phoebe nodded; the affection was mutual.

“I’m the one who talked you into taking Clark back the first time.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged. Pressure had come from all sides, including her own mother, but it was Max who’d convinced her to give Clark another chance. “You were so sure it would never happen again. Only it did, Max, and frankly I don’t think Clark will ever stop.”

Max shook his head in disgust. “My son can be an idiot.”

She squeezed his hand, echoing his sentiment.

“I would’ve enjoyed having you as my daughter-in-law—the daughter I never had.”

It went without saying that she would’ve enjoyed being part of the Snowden family, too.

To her horror, Max’s eyes filled with tears. “Is there any possibility that you’d be willing to forgive Clark and marry him?”

Phoebe hardly knew how to respond. “I—”

“You don’t need to tell me that Clark deserves to lose you. If he hadn’t done this before…” He let the rest fade and turned his head to stare out the hospital window. “In my heart I know Clark loves you. You’re good for him, Phoebe. When he’s with you, Clark is a better man.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. I—”

Again Max interrupted her. “Although Marlene insists I’m going to be as healthy as ever, I’m not convinced. As far as I can tell, I’m living on borrowed time.”

“Oh, Max.” Phoebe bit her lower lip. She had only vague memories of her own father, who’d played such a minor role in her life. From the first she’d felt a bond with Max, who was like a second father to her.

“I want to see my son married and settled down. I’d be grateful to hold a grandchild in my arms one day, God willing. Now, I don’t know if that’ll ever happen.”

“You’ve had a fright,” she told him.

“It’s more than that, Phoebe.”

She swallowed hard. “Do you know something the doctors haven’t told your family?”

Max didn’t answer but he looked away, and she realized then that he did. She tightened her grip on his hand.

“I love my son,” Max murmured. “I know his strengths and his weaknesses. I also know he regrets this mess and that he misses you terribly. He’d do anything to get you back.”

“I don’t think that’s possible anymore,” Phoebe whispered.

“If you’d be willing to reconsider, I could have a stipulation put in my will.” Max’s gaze implored her. “If Clark ever again commits any form of infidelity, I’d disinherit him.”

“Max, I—”

“Hear me out,” he pleaded. “You alone would inherit—not Clark. You and any children the two of you might have.”

Aware of how much it must’ve hurt him to make
such a suggestion, Phoebe pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Max, I’m sorry but I really don’t think that’s a solution.”

“Consider it. That’s all I ask.” Max smiled up at her, although the effort seemed to drain him.

“You need to rest.”

“I do,” he said, “but I’d sleep a whole lot easier if I knew you’d reconsider marrying Clark.” He paused as though gathering his strength in order to continue. “Clark might not admit it, but he needs you, Phoebe.”

She didn’t confirm or deny that. Knowing Clark so well, she believed he didn’t need
her
as much as the evidence that he could manipulate her. What Clark craved above all was control, of everyone and everything around him.

“You’re a good woman.”

“Thank you, but…”

Max closed his eyes, his strength nearly gone. “Clark’s learned his lesson.”

“Does he know why you wanted to see me?” She had to find out whether Clark had a role in this before she could promise Max she’d reconsider.

“Yes,” Max whispered. “He’s desperate to have you back, on any terms, Phoebe, and asked me to help persuade you.”

Oh, very clever of him, she mused skeptically. Being an attorney, a very skilled one, meant that his father’s wishes wouldn’t stand in his way. Clark would uncover a loophole. He certainly wouldn’t allow her to take away his inheritance. None of that mattered, though.

Phoebe shook her head. “Max, I don’t want a husband tied to me because of a stipulation in a will,”
she said softly. “If the bonds of love and commitment aren’t enough, then there’s nothing left to say.”

“I agree…”

“Then why—”

“The fact that I’d even ask such a thing of you proves how badly I want to see my son settled. You’re his equal in every way. Clark isn’t an easy man to love—he’s already proven that.”

Despite herself Phoebe grinned.

“I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t believe he was truly sorry. He swore to me that it’ll never happen again.”

“He swore that to me, as well,” Phoebe reminded him. “The first time.”

Max frowned. “Like I said earlier, he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness or your love.”

Phoebe debated how much to tell Max, then decided she couldn’t mislead him. “I’ve met someone else, Max.”

Max’s eyes dulled and it was several minutes before he spoke. “Clark doesn’t know that, does he?”

Phoebe looked away. “I told him, but he didn’t take it well. That’s one of the reasons I insisted he not be here, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to come.”

Max sighed. “Forgive an old man for trying to make things right.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You love your son.”

“I love you, too, Phoebe. I wish this had worked out differently.”

“So do I.”

Max squeezed her hand. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our conversation to Clark.”

“I won’t,” he assured her.

“Phoebe,” Marlene Snowden said, startling her as she stepped into the room, holding a cup of coffee. “You’re dating someone else now. It didn’t take you long, did it?”

“Marlene,” Max protested.

“Clark told me. He was in the cafeteria because you refused to see him. You were with that other man this weekend, weren’t you?” Marlene Snowden demanded in a shrill voice. “No wonder we couldn’t reach you.”