Summer on Blossom Street (23 page)

“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.

Lydia Goetz

“C
asey!” 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 first 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 difficult 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 figure 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 first 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 shuffled 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 find 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.

Tentatively I opened the door and stepped inside to see her sprawled on the bed, face buried in her arms. She wasn’t crying or showing any other sign of distress. But then, I’d never seen Casey cry.

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 confide 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 fighting?”

“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.

“What should we do?”

Sometimes I worried that making an emotional investment in Casey was a big mistake. At the end of the summer she’d be leaving us and we had to accept that, just as she did. But how could we
not
care about her?

Brad frowned. “Should I see if she’ll talk to me?” he asked.

Since I hadn’t gotten anywhere, I didn’t think he would either, but that was no reason not to try. After all, Brad was the one who’d devoted hours to teaching her about fractions.

“Let me try,” Cody piped up. “Me and Chase,” he said in all seriousness.

Brad turned to me for my opinion and I gestured helplessly. “It can’t hurt.”

“Okay, son,” Brad said. “See what you can do.”

Cody nodded. “Come, Chase,” he commanded. “Casey needs us.”

The two of them trotted down the hallway to Casey’s bedroom. Cody knocked, then opened the door and went inside.

Brad and I waited. My fear was that Casey would scream at him and hurt his feelings. Without realizing
it, I sat on the edge of my cushion, ready to hurry to his rescue if the need arose.

Probably ten minutes passed, with each one feeling like a hundred. If Cody and Casey were talking, I couldn’t hear their voices. I strained to listen and heard nothing.

“What do you suppose is happening in there?” Brad asked. He looked as tense as I felt.

“I don’t have a clue.”

Finally, just when I was about to investigate on my own, Casey’s bedroom door opened. “Mom,” Cody yelled, as if I was in the basement instead of one room away. “Do we have any ice cream?” He made it sound like a call to 9-1-1.

“I believe so,” I said as calmly as I could.

“We need two bowls, okay?”

“Two bowls coming right up.”

He closed the door, then jerked it open again. “What about chocolate syrup?”

“Ah…I’ll check.”

Brad was on his feet, too. “I’ll make a quick run to the store if necessary.”

I was already in the kitchen, investigating the cupboard where I knew I’d find chocolate syrup if we had any. “Got it,” I called out triumphantly.

“Good.” Cody’s voice was relieved. “Hurry, okay?”

“In a minute,” I promised him.

Working together, Brad and I quickly prepared two heaping bowls of vanilla ice cream covered with chocolate syrup. When I finished adding the chocolate, I asked, “Should I look for whipped topping?”

Brad shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Each of us carrying a bowl, we approached the closed bedroom door.

Brad knocked and turned the knob. We stepped inside, holding out the ice cream as though we’d come bearing gifts of gold and precious jewels.

Casey sat on the bed with her back to the wall. Cody was sitting there, too, and Chase lay between them. Casey’s hand was on his fur, which she stroked methodically, avoiding eye contact with either Brad or me.

“Thanks, Mom and Dad,” Cody said.

We’d been dismissed.

We went back to the living room, where I picked up my knitting and Brad turned on the TV. We were halfway through an episode of
CSI: Miami
when the bedroom door opened and Cody came out, holding two empty bowls.

“Everything all right in there?” Brad asked.

Cody nodded. “Ice cream doesn’t cure anything,” he said sagely, “but it sure helps with the pain.” He brought the bowls to the kitchen.

“Who told him that?” Brad wondered.

I ventured a guess. “Either Margaret or Alix.”

“You hang around with wise women, my love,” he said with a grin.

I had to agree. “You in the mood for ice cream?” I asked.

“Why not? It seems to work.”

We smiled at each other. A crisis had been averted.

After a while Casey came out of her room with her crochet hook and a skein of yarn under one arm. “I need help with this,” she said, as if the events of this evening had never occurred.

“Okay.” I certainly wasn’t an expert at crocheting but I could read the directions. If not, I could always contact my sister.

Casey sat on the sofa beside me. “I think I made a mistake here.” She held it out for me to examine.

I studied the washcloth she’d started and didn’t find anything wrong. “It looks fine to me, Casey.”

“You’re sure?”

I shrugged. “You might want to have Margaret check it tomorrow.”

Her eyes flew up to meet mine. “Can I come to the shop again? You don’t have to pay me.”

“I’ve got a whole list of things that need your attention and of course I’ll pay you.”

I could see she was pleased, although she tried to hide it. “That would be okay, I guess.” I realized she didn’t want me to know how much she liked being at the yarn store.

That attitude always caught me unawares. This fear of losing what she valued most. Wasn’t that exactly what Alix had warned me about?

She returned to her room, and I went to bed around ten, exhausted. All the melodrama of the evening had tired me out.

I still didn’t know what Lee had said to Casey and most likely I never would. If she’d told Cody, he hadn’t indicated in any way. Curious though I was, I didn’t feel I could pry it out of him. That wasn’t the example I wanted to set.

The phone rang just as Brad stepped out of the bathroom, dressed for bed. The sharp, unexpected sound startled us both. I reached for it quickly.

“Hello,” I said in a hushed voice.

“Lydia,” my sister boomed over the line. “It’s Mom.”

“What happened?” My mother’s declining health had been a major concern for more than a year now.

“I’m at the E.R. Mom fell.”

I gasped and reached out for Brad. He gripped my fingers. “Is she hurt?”

“It’s her hip.”

“No.” Shivers raced down my spine.

“Thank God someone heard her.”

More than a year earlier, Mom had been diagnosed with diabetes and had to have her blood sugars carefully monitored. That had been the beginning of her health problems. The decline had been rapid since then.

“Is it broken?” I asked, fearing the worst.

“No, just a hairline fracture. She also hit her head pretty hard, but that seems to be okay.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said. Brad freed my hand and I tossed aside the covers. My feet were already on the ground when Margaret stopped me.

“There’s no need. The tests are done. I didn’t feel there was any reason to phone you until we knew something definite.”

“You should’ve called me earlier,” I cried, upset and relieved at the same time. I had a right to know about my own mother and yet…ignorance was bliss.

Guilt washed over me. I shouldn’t be thinking that. I loved my mother and was grateful Margaret had been there to handle the situation.

“The doctor wants to keep Mom overnight for observation. She needs her sleep and frankly,” Margaret said, sounding drained and emotionally depleted, “so do I.”

“Go home,” I advised. “Tell the hospital that if they need to contact anyone during the night, they should call me.”

Margaret hesitated, then reluctantly agreed.

After she’d answered a few more questions, I replaced the receiver. Tears flowed unrestrained down my face, blurring my vision. I worried about my mother, but I had no idea how to help her.

Brad handed me a wad of tissues and I tried to explain what had happened.

“But she’s fine, right?” Brad pressed.

I nodded. Mom was unaffected by this incident, as far as the physicians could tell, but I wasn’t. It was all too obvious that I was going to lose my mother.