Summer on Blossom Street (24 page)

In many ways I already had. Margaret and I were her caregivers now. We’d assumed the role of adults, and she’d become almost a child—dependent, passive, at the mercy of others. I worried that I’d somehow failed her.

When I wiped my eyes, I saw Cody and Casey standing in the doorway to our bedroom, watching me.

“What’s wrong?” Cody asked.

Before I could tell them, Casey offered me a tentative smile. “I think Lydia needs some ice cream,” she said.

Anne Marie Roche

B
arbie’s house rang with laughter when Anne Marie arrived to drop Ellen off. Lillie, Barbie’s mother, answered the door, Hector at her side, and it was easy to see how much in love they were. How happy her friend was. Anne Marie felt only gratitude that Lillie had found love, but in some ways it was painful to watch, reminding her of what she’d lost. Still, she’d seen that falling in love again was possible—for Barbie and Mark, for Lillie and Hector. Maybe it was possible for her, too.

The big surprise in her own life had been meeting Tim. An even bigger surprise was the attraction she felt toward him. Life was filled with the unexpected, and some of those events were happy ones.

“Come in, come in,” Lillie said, stepping aside to gesture them inside. They hugged, and Hector greeted her in his usual dignified manner.

“Maria, my grandniece, is with me,” he told Ellen, “and she’s eager to meet you. I hope you two can be friends.”

Ellen followed shyly and stood next to Anne Marie. “My mom has a date with Tim,” she announced. “It’s just the two of them, so he can kiss her in the dark.”

Anne Marie blushed, but before she could comment, Barbie bustled into the room.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” She wore an apron that suggested someone kiss the cook. Mark rolled out with her. He wasn’t the type of man who openly showed affection, but Ellen had won him over from the moment they met and she moved instantly to his side to hug him.

“Next time bring your date to the party,” Mark said as soon as he’d released Ellen.

“Will do,” Anne Marie promised. She crouched down so she was eye-to-eye with Ellen. “Barbie has my cell number. If you need me for anything you can call, okay?”

Ellen nodded.

“I’ll pick you up around ten.”

“Okay.” Ellen wrapped her thin arms around Anne Marie’s neck and squeezed tight. Then she raised her head and whispered, “Kiss Tim for me.”

Anne Marie smiled. “I will,” she whispered back.

Lillie walked Anne Marie out to her car. “I’m so glad to see you dating again,” she said. “My life changed when I met Hector. I look forward to each day, each minute, I have with him.”

Anne Marie wondered if Tim would be her Hector…. Because, just like Lillie, just like Barbie, she was ready to experience love again.

“I can’t recommend being in love highly enough,”
Lillie said with a laugh. Hector stood in the doorway, waiting for her, and she stepped back as Anne Marie climbed into her car and started the engine. Pulling out of the driveway, she saw Hector join Lillie, sliding his arm around her waist and drawing her close.

Oh, yes, Anne Marie was ready for love. Ready to share her love for Ellen with someone who cared for the child as much as she did.

That thought stayed with her as she drove home and parked behind the bookstore.

One of the many things Anne Marie liked about Tim Carlsen was the fact that he didn’t ignore social niceties and details. Although Monte’s, the Italian restaurant he’d chosen, was within walking distance, he insisted on picking her up, despite her offer to meet him there.

When she opened the apartment door to let Tim in, Baxter yelped excitedly. Tim stooped down and paid him due attention, and when he straightened, his eyes widened with appreciation. “You look…wow,” he said.

“Thank you.” While Tim played with Baxter, Anne Marie went into her bedroom to get her purse. As she did, she noticed that her hand was trembling.

Although she’d tried to minimize this dinner date with her friends, she felt nervous. She could hardly remember the last time she’d been on an actual date. Before she’d married Robert, so that was… She decided not to do the math.

She’d dressed carefully in a white eyelet summer dress with a silky pink shawl and pink pumps.

“Are you ready?” Tim asked when Anne Marie met him in the living room.

She nodded. Because she felt flustered, she found
herself chattering as they strolled to the restaurant. The evening was perfect, still sunny, with a light breeze scenting the air.

“I’ve been looking at houses,” she said. “Ellen doesn’t want to move, but the apartment’s too small.” She went on to tell him that she was considering houses in the same neighborhood as Hallie’s, thinking that if Ellen had a friend close by, the move would be less traumatic.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Anne Marie realized she hadn’t let Tim say a word. This behavior was so uncharacteristic for her, she felt she should explain.

“I generally don’t talk this much,” she said, embarrassed. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Tim reassured her with a grin. “So am I,” he admitted.

It was such a comforting thing to say that Anne Marie was instantly at ease.

The hostess seated them at a nice table near the window. When the waiter came to take their drink order, Tim said he’d stick to water but told Anne Marie she should have a glass of wine. She ordered the house red.

“It doesn’t bother you if other people drink?” she asked, feeling awkward.

“Not in the least. Other people can handle it. I can’t.”

Still, she felt guilty drinking in his presence. “I don’t mind doing without wine,” she said.

He held up his hand. “Please don’t. Sobriety is up to me and me alone.”

His attitude impressed her, and she sipped her wine, almost able to enjoy it.

When the waiter returned, they placed their dinner
orders. Tim asked for the eggplant parmigiano and Anne Marie the clam spaghetti. The waiter left and Anne Marie smoothed her napkin repeatedly in her nervousness, waiting for Tim to speak. So far, she’d dominated the conversation.

“I’m hoping now that we’ve had a chance to get to know each other, you’ll be comfortable with me,” he said.

“I already feel that way.” Anne Marie took a piece of bread and tore off a bite. “I can hardly believe how much.” She dipped the bread in the small dish of olive oil in the center of the table, not looking at him as she spoke. “You’ve convinced me that you won’t try to take Ellen away from me.”

“I’d never do that. The two of you belong together. Dolores got that right. She knew you’d love and care for Ellen better than Candy—or anyone else, for that matter.”

She flushed, feeling a surge of joy. The fact that he, of all people, had acknowledged this brought her not only gratitude but peace. “Thank you,” she murmured.

They enjoyed their meal immensely, talking about a wide range of subjects from baseball to politics and everything in between.

Over spumoni and coffee, Tim grew quiet again. “If it’s okay with you, Anne Marie, I’d like to tell my parents about Ellen.”

It would be selfish to withhold a grandparent’s love from her daughter, so Anne Marie agreed. “That would be fine.”

His hand cradled the coffee cup, and he nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

“You told me Ellen’s their only granddaughter.”

“She is, and my mother’s been dying to have a girl to spoil. My younger sister has two boys.”

“She sounds just like my mother.”

Tim stared down at his coffee. “Would you also be willing to let Ellen spend time with me alone?”

Anne Marie hadn’t expected this subject to come up quite so soon, yet it was a reasonable request. “Are you asking about visitation?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Still, she hesitated. “How often were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. I don’t mean to pressure you, Anne Marie. If you’d rather wait, I understand.”

“But you wanted to plant the thought in my mind.”

“Yes, that’s a good way of putting it.”

“You’re asking if you can tell Ellen that you’re her father.” This
was
the great unasked question, the one that underlay all the others.

“I would like to do that. Even before I got the test results I
felt
that Ellen was my child.”

Now it was Anne Marie’s turn to stare into her coffee. Her ice cream had started to melt, and she pushed it aside. Her first inclination, selfish though it might be, was to deny him. She glanced up and found him watching her intently, his eyes relaying a message of hope and expectancy.

“I want to be with Ellen when you tell her.”

“Of course.”

“We’ll begin the visitations slowly. And you can’t tell her until I feel she’s ready.”

“Like I said, you’re the one setting the rules.”

He was so agreeable, and that helped soothe her worries.

“Would it be all right if I took her one night next week? My parents’ wedding anniversary is coming up and I’d like Ellen to meet them before the big party.”

Before she could find an excuse to refuse him, Anne Marie nodded. “But they can’t let her know who they are. What they are to her, I mean.”

“I accept that.” His gaze held hers. “Thank you.”

This request probably explained why he’d asked her to dinner on her own, which was more than a little disappointing.

“I’m glad we got that settled,” she said briskly.

“Actually,” Tim said, “there’s something else.”

“Oh?”

He lowered his eyes. “I’m afraid I might have misled you in the past few weeks.”

“Misled me? How?”

“I apologize. That was never my intention.”

Anne Marie was even more confused. “What are you talking about?”

He inhaled deeply. “I guess the best way to tell you is just to tell you. I’m involved with someone else.”

Anne Marie sat unmoving as the shock rippled through her. “You’re…involved.”

“Vanessa and I—”

“Her name’s Vanessa?”

“Yes, and I have to tell you this whole situation has been very difficult for her.”

Anne Marie bit off a sarcastic comment. She needed all the self-control she possessed not to reveal how shocked she was by his announcement.

“I didn’t want you to—”

Anne Marie struggled to remain calm. “Don’t you think you might’ve said something sooner?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Yes, well…perhaps I should have, but there never seemed to be a good time.”

“Really?” she muttered. Funny how he’d managed to get what he wanted before telling her this. She felt humiliated. Foolish. Naive. All these weeks she’d allowed the romantic daydream to grow, picturing the three of them as the perfect little family. No wonder he’d never kissed her. If she hadn’t been walking around immersed in her stupid fantasies, she might have caught on earlier.

“I apologize if you think I was leading you on.”

“Forget it,” she said, focusing some distance beyond him, refusing to meet his eyes. She held herself stiff and couldn’t wait to escape. This was what she got for risking her emotions. It wasn’t worth it; deep down she knew she’d never fall in love again.

“I feel it’s important that we remain friends for Ellen’s sake,” he was saying.

“We can certainly be cordial.” What seemed most important at the moment, however, was getting away from Tim. She needed to think, to absorb what he’d told her.

She made a show of looking at her watch. “Do we have the check yet?”

In response he raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

“I’ll want to meet Vanessa,” Anne Marie said. No way was she letting her daughter go off with someone she’d never met. She didn’t care if Vanessa was “involved” with Tim. That wasn’t any kind of recommendation or guarantee.

He blinked, his expression wary.

“If she’s going to be with you when you have Ellen…”

Tim relaxed. “I suppose she will. Some of the time, anyway.”

“In that case, I need to meet her, don’t you agree?” She did her best to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Yes, of course. That’s not a problem.”

Another thought entered her mind, one that set off warning bells. “How did you and…Vanessa happen to meet?”

“I don’t think that really matters,” he said, bristling noticeably.

“She’s in AA, too?” Anne Marie guessed.

Reluctantly Tim nodded.

“How much sobriety does she have?”

“She had three years.”

“Had?”

“With everything that’s been going on with you and me and Ellen, well…she slipped up.”

“Just a minute here,” Anne Marie said, her eyes narrowing. “Not more than an hour ago, you told me you were accountable for your own sobriety. Didn’t I hear you say that?”

“Yes…”

“Are you now saying that you’re taking responsibility for
Vanessa
’s sobriety, too?” she asked.

The question appeared to shake him. “No.”

Anne Marie held his gaze. “Ellen can meet Vanessa, but I have to be there when she does. Otherwise the deal is off.”

“Fine,” he said curtly.

“Good. Then we understand each other.”

All at once the room seemed unbearably stuffy. Op
pressive. Anne Marie dropped her napkin on the table and stood. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

He stood, too. “I’ll take care of the bill. I won’t be long.”

She needed breathing room. As the night air cooled her fevered skin, Anne Marie resisted the urge to cover her face with both hands. In all her life she’d never felt more embarrassed. How
stupid
she’d been. What a romantic
fool.

And worse, Tim knew. He’d read the longing in her heart, saw it in her eyes. He knew. If she could’ve disappeared, simply vanished, she would gladly have done so.

Phoebe Rylander

“N
ight,” Hutch said, lingering in the doorway of Phoebe’s condo. He leaned close and kissed her gently. This wasn’t the first time they’d kissed that evening. “I really have to leave now.”

“Night,” she whispered. She hated to see him go. They’d spent a wonderful evening, a memorable evening. They’d been together on Sunday, too, but even a day seemed too long to be apart. When he’d suggested they see each other tonight, she’d readily agreed.

It became more and more apparent that Hutch was nothing like Clark. In fact, he was the complete opposite of her former fiancé.

Hutch was thoughtful and caring and funny and
different
. He made her laugh and had lightened the load of pain she’d carried after her breakup with Clark. And yet she probably wouldn’t have given him a second look if
not for the knitting class. That class, which she’d enrolled in on impulse, had opened her eyes in so many ways.

Phoebe didn’t want to think of herself as demanding or shallow when it came to the men she chose to date. Then again, perhaps she had been. Most of the men in her past had been like Clark—highly successful, established in their careers, urbane and handsome. Hutch was rather ordinary-looking but he possessed those other attributes, too. The ambition and the success. Only he was…better.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, moving slowly into the hall.

Meowing, Princess followed him out, apparently as unwilling to let him go as Phoebe was herself. She picked up her cat and held her close.

“Tomorrow,” she said. Leaning against the doorjamb she waited until he was inside the elevator and had disappeared from sight. The time had gone by so quickly, she could hardly believe it was already after ten.

Hutch had met her at the clinic, after a meeting with his attorney. He’d refused to discuss the case, telling her he was leaving the whole mess to the professionals paid to deal with it. They’d rented a paddle boat on Lake Washington before eating at a hole-in-the-wall fish-and-chip place he’d gone to as a kid. It’d been a lazy summer’s night, interspersed with laughter and a growing attraction. They’d sat under an umbrella table and made excuses to loiter in the early-evening sun.

When Hutch dropped her off after dinner, neither had wanted the evening to end. He’d gladly accepted her invitation for coffee, and they’d sat and talked for nearly an hour. But it was dark now, and they both had
to work in the morning. Phoebe knew he got to the office by six, except for the days he visited the gym first.

The phone rang and Phoebe hurried to answer it, expecting to find it was Hutch. It would be just like him to call as soon as he was in the car. He often did that to say good-night a final time or discuss the next day’s plans…or whisper that he missed her.

Instead, Caller ID showed that it was Clark.

Phoebe backed away from the phone. She didn’t want to speak to him, didn’t want anything to do with him. Her instinct was to let him leave a message. She did, and waited until her phone went to voice mail.

Unable to stop herself, she stood close to the phone and listened as he spoke.

“Phoebe, it’s Clark.” He sounded depressed. “I know you’re there. I also know you don’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t contact you if this wasn’t important. Please call me back. You’re at the condo, I know you are.” He hesitated, then added in a broken voice, “Please.”

Reluctantly Phoebe reached for the phone, but her hand hovered over the receiver. It was a week ago that she’d gone to the hospital to see his father and she wondered if Max had taken a turn for the worse. After all, he’d implied that he didn’t think he’d live much longer.

Her pulse accelerated. Clark’s father was such an extraordinary man. The family would fall apart without him.

She grabbed the phone.

Clark answered on the first ring. He didn’t greet her; instead he whispered “Thank you” in a fervent voice.

“Is it your father?”

“I—”

“If this isn’t something to do with Max, we have nothing to talk about.” She started to disconnect when she heard him cry out.

“Don’t hang up! There’s no delicate way to say this…but my father’s dying.”

Phoebe gasped. “What happened?”

“He’s got a high fever. They haven’t been able to control it.”

“Oh, Clark.” There was no adequate response to that, no comfort she could offer. A lump formed in her throat.

“He’s caught some sort of infection and that seems to be causing the fever. It’s bad, Phoebe.”

“Oh, no…”

“The doctors called Mother and me to the hospital.”

“Are you there now?”

She heard Clark swallow hard. “Yes. Where else would I be?”

“I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what she could do other than listen.

He spoke over her comment. “I was right, wasn’t I? You were home but you didn’t want to speak to me.”

His question came at her more like an accusation, and she had no intention of answering.

“He was there, wasn’t he?” Clark continued in the same aggressive tone. “This new man you’re seeing. You’re only doing it to hurt me, aren’t you?”

“Who I’m seeing is none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked. “I wonder if you ever really loved me.”

Phoebe felt dreadful but there was no reason for it.
Clark was slinging guilt at her and she needed to step away, stop being his target. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow this conversation to revolve around
him
when his father might well be dying.

“Is he a good lover?”

“What?”
Phoebe took a deep, shuddering breath. “This conversation is over.”

“No, please,” he begged. “Listen, just listen…”

Phoebe didn’t want to hear any more. She considered hanging up, but Clark interrupted.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t have the right to ask you questions like that.”

Phoebe desperately wanted to cut off this call; at the same time, she wanted to learn what she could about Max’s condition.

Before she could decide, Clark said, “You can call me any name you like, Phoebe, and I’d probably deserve it, but one thing you have to admit is that I love my dad.”

Phoebe knew that was true. Clark was close to both his parents—although his behavior certainly didn’t resemble that of his father.

“Will you come sit with Mom and me?” he asked, his tone pleading. “The doctors said it would be a miracle if Dad lasts the night.”

When she hesitated, Clark said, “Can’t we put aside our differences for Dad’s sake? Just for tonight?”

“You and Marlene are alone? What about the rest of the family?”

“The crisis appeared to be over. Everyone’s gone—and now this. It’s killing Mom and me.”

Phoebe looked up at the ceiling, still unsure. Then, against her better judgment, she whispered, “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

His appreciation was almost palpable. “I can’t thank you enough, Phoebe. This will mean the world to Mom.”

Phoebe rather doubted
that.

With her purse and car keys in hand, she’d reached the door, then came to an abrupt halt. It seemed to her that with all the connections the Snowdens had, Marlene and Clark shouldn’t be alone. Why would he contact her when he had friends and relatives all over the city?

None of what he’d said really made sense. She hated to be so distrustful, but time had taught her some valuable lessons about Clark Snowden. He’d stop at nothing to get his own way. Now that he knew about Hutch, he’d be more intent than ever on winning her back. Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d kidnap her. Despite her doubts, even Clark wouldn’t go so far as to make up a story about his father’s imminent death.

But just in case…

Phoebe decided not to take any chances. Turning back, she went to the phone and hit Speed Dial to call her mother.

Three rings later, Leanne answered sleepily. “Phoebe? Is everything all right?”

“Clark’s father apparently isn’t doing well.”

“Oh, no.” Her mother was instantly alert.

“Clark said he’s contracted an infection. According to him, Max is fighting for his life. They aren’t sure he’ll last the night.”

“What can we do?” her mother asked urgently. “Should I put his name on the church prayer chain?”

“That would be wonderful, Mom,” Phoebe said.

“I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.” Phoebe felt guilty about using her
mother like this, but she knew how eager Leanne was to ingratiate herself with the Snowdens. “Listen, Mom, Clark’s holding vigil with his mother at the hospital. I gather they’re alone. Why don’t you go there with me? Marlene could use a friend at a time like this.”

“Oh, Phoebe. I’m so glad you asked. We can’t leave Marlene and Clark by themselves.”

“Thanks, Mom.” If Max
was
dying, Phoebe doubted she had the words to comfort Clark’s mother; the relationship between them was already strained. Leanne would be a real help.

“I’ll leave the house in fifteen minutes,” Leanne said. “I’ll just throw on some clothes and run a brush through my hair.”

“I’ll pick you up,” Phoebe told her.

“You don’t need to do that,” her mother protested.

Oh, but she did. “I wouldn’t want you driving in Seattle on your own this late, Mom.”

“Oh,” Leanne said as if she hadn’t thought of that. “Good idea. I’ll be ready when you get here.”

Phoebe waited a few minutes, then got her car from the condo parking garage and drove to her mother’s home on Capitol Hill. During that brief time, Clark called not once, but twice.

“How did you get this number?” she demanded. She could only assume that her mother had given it to him, in one of her misguided attempts to influence Phoebe’s decision.

He didn’t answer. “I’d only use it in an emergency, which this is.”

He was right about that, but his access to her cell number bothered her.

“I thought you were on your way,” he complained. “You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she promised. “Has Max’s condition changed?”

“No, nothing’s changed. Hurry, please.”

Pulling into the familiar neighborhood of her youth, Phoebe saw that her mother’s porch light was on. As she stopped in the driveway, Leanne hurried out the front door and slid into the passenger side, fastening her seat belt.

“Poor Marlene, she must be beside herself.” Leanne clasped her hands tightly together. “Have you heard anything new?”

“Not really.” Clark’s frantic call asking her to rush would only upset her mother, so Phoebe didn’t mention it. Besides, he’d said Max’s condition hadn’t changed.

By the time they’d parked and reached the hospital’s main entrance, Phoebe saw Clark pacing just inside. He seemed agitated and nervous, which was understandable. This had to be a tense night for him and his mother.

His face brightened the moment he saw her. But a frown formed as soon as he realized Leanne had accompanied her.

The glass doors slid open and Leanne ran toward Clark, hugging him hard. “Clark, this is such terrible news.”

“Leanne,” he said, hugging her back. Over her mother’s shoulders, his eyes searched out Phoebe.

“Where’s Marlene?” Leanne asked. “She must be frantic.”

Clark dropped his arms and led the way into the hospital foyer. “She…she left.”

Phoebe stared at him. “You don’t know if your father’s going to survive the night and your mother went
home?
”

“Yes, well…Dad seems to be doing better.”

“Since when?” Phoebe asked, her suspicions building.

“A while ago,” Clark said, meeting her gaze head-on.

“That’s terrific,” Leanne murmured, glancing from one to the other.

“Was Max ever desperately ill?” Phoebe asked, refusing to break eye contact with Clark. She wanted him to know he hadn’t fooled her. When he’d first phoned, she’d hated being so mistrustful of his intentions; now it seemed she’d been right. Clark was willing to use anything to win her back, even an out-and-out lie. She shouldn’t be surprised and yet she was. At the same time she was sickened that he’d sink to this level—that he’d exploit his father’s condition in this way.

“Now that I’m here,” she said, “I might as well check at the nurses’ station to see for myself how Max is doing.”

“They’re very busy,” Clark immediately countered.

“He’s in ICU, isn’t he?”

Clark exhaled. “Actually, he was moved earlier….” He let the rest fade. “Why don’t we all have a cup of coffee and I’ll update you?”

“So your father made a miraculous recovery in the last thirty minutes.” She didn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“He’s doing well enough for Mom to go home, but you have to understand he’s still at serious risk.”

Phoebe didn’t believe it.

“I could do with a cup of coffee,” Leanne said. “Decaf, of course. Anything with caffeine would keep me awake for hours.”

“You two go ahead,” Phoebe told them. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes. I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

Clark stared after her as she hurried down the hall to the public restrooms. Once inside, she pulled out her cell phone, called directory assistance and had them connect her with the hospital’s receptionist.

“Could you please tell me what room Max Snowden’s in?” she began and silently asked God to forgive the lie. “I’d like to order flowers online and apparently they need a room number.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Before long the woman was back. “Our records show that Mr. Snowden was released from the hospital two days ago.”

“I see,” Phoebe said through gritted teeth. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“It was my pleasure.”

It would be Phoebe’s pleasure to tell Clark what she thought of him. When she stepped out of the restroom, Clark and Leanne stood in the hallway waiting for her.

“Time to go, Mother,” she said firmly.

Leanne cast her a confused glance. “But…what about coffee with Clark?”

Phoebe marched past him. “We aren’t having coffee with Clark.”

“Phoebe,” her mother said, struggling to keep pace with her. “What’s gotten into you? You’re being rude. Clark’s father is very ill. Like you, I’m disappointed that
Marlene isn’t here, but Clark told me she’s been with Max for days and is emotionally and physically exhausted.”