Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)

Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6) Page 13

“I never knew Candy was pregnant,” he told her again. “I might’ve been a lot of things over the years, but at no time would I have abandoned my own f lesh and blood.”

“That’s very noble of you, Mr. Carlsen, but as I said, it’s too late. I’m sure there’s something in the AA rules that will help you sort it all out. My advice is to let go of this. Ellen’s happy. She has a good life with me.”

“Not with your husband?” he pressed.

“My husband…”

Tim’s eyes narrowed and she could tell he already knew she was widowed. His earlier remarks had been a bluff of his own. Continuing the pretense would be senseless.

“I’m Ellen’s family now,” Anne Marie said, sidestepping the question. She was finished with this conversation. “I believe it’s time you left, Mr. Carlsen, otherwise I’ll have to call the authorities.”

Tim slowly stood. “I didn’t want to get an attorney involved, but I will if I have to.”

“You do that.”

Tim waited a moment, as if undecided what to do next. After several seconds, he said, “Thank you for seeing me.”

Arms folded, Anne Marie nodded abruptly.

Tim walked out of the off ice, and Anne Marie sat down again, so shaken that she started to tremble.

A few minutes later, Teresa stepped into the off ice. “Is everything okay?” she asked. Anne Marie managed a wobbly smile. “Not really…”

“Oh?” Teresa watched her carefully. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Anne Marie braced her elbows on the desk and covered her eyes. “I’m not sure…. I need time to think.”

“If I can help in any way, just let me know,” Teresa urged.

Anne Marie murmured a thank-you. It would take a while to f igure out what to do about this diff icult conversation—

including the fact that Tim had threatened legal action. Fine, she’d f ight him with every resource she possessed. First, however, she needed to f ind out what her own rights were. Her hand shook as she f lipped through the Rolodex on the corner of her desk until she came to Evelyn Boyle’s name. Evelyn, as a social worker, knew adoption law. Evelyn would be able to tell Anne Marie her rights.

Her heart felt as though it might implode. She’d already lost her husband, becoming a widow at the age of thirty-eight. Then life had taken a wonderful and unexpected turn and brought her Ellen. Anne Marie wasn’t going to give the child up. Not for anyone.

Chapter 9

We don’t knit to make things. There are cheaper, faster and easier ways to obtain a sweater than to knit it. We knit to make ourselves happy.We are in charge of getting the most joy out of our yarn and stitches.

—Annie Modesitt, author of Confessions of a KnittingHeretic and Knit with Courage, Live with Hope. www.anniemodesitt.com

Lydia Goetz

Tuesday evening my stomach was in knots as I pulled into the driveway after work. Casey had been with us for almost a week. Before I left the shop, I’d gotten no less than three phone calls from Cody and had talked with Brad an equal number of times. Each and every one of those calls had been about Casey. The girl had created a complete upheaval in our peaceful family life. As Evelyn had said, there were a few adjustment problems. She’d also predicted that the kids would accept each other in a day or two; it hadn’t happened. Brad felt inadequate to deal with the conf lict between Cody and Casey on his own. He seemed to think I’d handle it better, but I wasn’t really sure what to do, either.

“I’m home,” I called as I entered the kitchen through the door that led from the garage. I realized an announcement had been unnecessary. Both Cody and Brad were waiting for me. The relief on their faces was comical and they released a collective sigh at my arrival.

I kissed my husband on the cheek. As he usually did, Brad had started dinner—chicken and Spanish rice. Casey sat at the kitchen table with her head bent over one of my cookbooks, open to the section on baking. I found that interesting but knew better than to comment.

Cody scowled at her from the other side of the room. “I need to talk to you,” he said, then added “privately” in a whisper.

“Okay,” I agreed. I went over and hugged him, but he remained stiff and angry.

It took me a moment to divest myself of my purse and bag and to change shoes. “How was school?” I asked Casey, coming back into the kitchen.

She shrugged.

“What can I get you?” I decided to ask a question that required an actual response.

“I don’t need anything.” The words, as well as her body language, were def iant.

“Okay, but let me know if you do.”

“Can I talk to you and Dad now? ” Cody asked.

“Okay by me,” Brad told him. He turned down the burner under the pan of rice. The chicken was in the oven, and it would be about half an hour before the evening meal was ready.

“Would you excuse us for a few minutes?” I asked Casey. Once again she didn’t bother to respond. Brad and I left the kitchen. Cody led us into his bedroom with Chase a step or two behind. He waited until we were inside, then f irmly closed the door. Brad and I sat next to each other on Cody’s sloppily made bed and my husband reached for my hand.

Before Brad could even ask what this was all about, Cody whirled around, frowning at us. “I don’t like her.”

“Cody…”

“She’s rude and mean and she said I’m spoiled and called me a baby—right to my face!”

“Cody—” Brad tried again, but our son was in no mood to be reasonable.

“The three of us talked about adopting, remember?” Cody asked. “And I said okay, and you said you’d listen to what I wanted.”

“Of course we’ll listen! But Casey will only be with us a couple more days—at the most,” I reminded him. It wasn’t as though the girl was about to become part of our family.

“She was supposed to stay two nights and now she’s here for a whole week.” Cody’s eyes f lashed with indignation.

“Seeing that you let her stay longer than you said, I have a list of demands.”

“A list? ” I repeated.

“Demands?” Brad arched his eyebrows.

“Go ahead and read us your list,” I said. I felt we owed Cody that much. He was right; the situation had changed without warning and without real discussion. Granted, he was nine years old; he wouldn’t be making decisions for the family. But this did affect him and we needed to acknowledge his feelings—and accommodate them where we could. The fact that Cody had actually been thinking about the possibility of adoption pleased me. I wanted open communication among all of us, especially when it came to something as important as bringing a baby into our family.

“Okay, I will.” Cody marched to the end of his bed, slipped his hand under the mattress and took out a folded piece of paper. Chase hovered near the door, watching him.

Brad and I exchanged a look of surprise and made an effort to hide our amusement. Apparently Cody was upset enough to reveal his secret hiding place without even realizing it. Chase settled on the braided rug beside the bed and rested his chin on his paws as his dark eyes followed Cody. He seemed a little uneasy, no doubt because he was so sensitive to our son’s moods. Standing directly in front of us, Cody unfolded the single sheet of paper, then cleared his throat. “Demand number one. If you’re going to adopt another kid, I want a brother, not a sister.”

Brad sighed. “We won’t necessarily have a say in the matter, Cody. It would be the same as if Lydia were to get pregnant. We wouldn’t know until much later if it was a boy or a girl.”

“I want a brother, ” Cody insisted.

“We’ll do our best to get you a brother,” I said.

“What else is on your, uh, list of demands?” Brad asked in a serious voice.

“I get to be the oldest kid in the family.” He looked directly at us, his mouth a straight, angry line. “I was here first, right? If you bring in some other kid, then that kid can’t be the boss of me.”

“Sounds fair,” Brad assured our son. I nodded. He seemed shocked by our agreement. “You promise?”

“I can’t make it a real promise,” Brad said, “because we won’t know the age until we decide on the child our family would like to adopt. But we’re asking for a baby, so it’s probably not an issue.”

Cody seemed somewhat mollified.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Yes.” Cody looked at us again and his face tightened with determination. “I’m not giving in on this,” he said, sounding as though he was engaged in some high-level diplomatic negotiation. Well, I guess from his point of view, he was. “And if you don’t say yes, then I don’t want anything to do with our family getting another kid.”

“Let’s hear it,” Brad said.

“I want full approval.” He spoke with such fervor his voice trembled. “I get to say which kid we adopt. If I don’t like ’em, they can’t live here.”

“Like your dad said, we’re hoping for a baby, so I think that should meet your demand. We’ll request a boy…although it might take a while.” I was discouraged by how long the list of potential parents already was.

Mildly appeased, Cody glanced down at the dog. “Chase gets approval, too.”

I almost started to giggle, but Brad frowned. “Son, listen, I know you’re upset because Casey—”

“I just want to make sure you aren’t going to adopt her, ” he cried.

“No,” Brad said evenly. “As Lydia’s explained, Casey’s stay with us is temporary.”

I heard a noise outside the door and I suspected Casey had been standing on the other side, listening to our conversation. When I returned to the kitchen, however, she was sitting at the table, exactly as we’d left her.

I prepared the salad and asked Casey to clear the table so we could set it for dinner. Silently she removed the cookbook, returning it to the shelf. I wondered how she was doing in her math class, but she never volunteered any information and evaded my questions. She hadn’t asked for help, so I assumed all was well. Casey took the plates down from the cupboard and added glasses and silverware. Although I tried to make conversation, she remained uncommunicative, even stoic.

“Casey,” I said gently. I placed my hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her. She shrugged it off as if she found my touch repulsive. I forged ahead, feeling I needed to say something just in case she’d heard part of our conversation with Cody. “I know being here is uncomfortable for you and I apologize. I feel we’ve been exceedingly rude. You are most welcome in our home.”

She snickered. “Yeah, right.”

She looked at me and for an instant, for the briefest f licker of time, I saw pain in her eyes. It was quickly gone, replaced by anger and defiance.

Dinner was a miserable affair. Casey didn’t utter a single word, nor did she bother to eat more than a couple of bites. Cody didn’t do much better. Although Spanish rice was one of his favorites, his plate was practically untouched. A war of wills seemed to be taking place between Cody and Casey and they glared openly at each other across the table. Brad and I made several attempts to find a safe topic of conversation, but apparently there was none. Neither child responded to our comments about movies or my cat’s clever antics or anything else, and by the time they left the table, I felt exhausted. As soon as they were excused, both kids disappeared into their bedrooms. Brad sighed and I shook my head, hardly knowing what to say.