Summer on Blossom Street
Page 29

“Thank Ellen. She’s the one with the list.”
“Her twenty wishes.”
“Yes. She wrote down that she wanted to meet her father.”
“And she has.” Tim picked up his coffee. “This can’t be easy for you,” he said. “I promise I’ll never abuse your trust or break your rules.”
“I believe you,” she told him. “Besides, you’re the one who reminded me that a child needs a father.”
He smiled knowingly.
Anne Marie ate some of her soup and then answered questions about her history with Ellen. She wasn’t sure why, but she told him about Robert and how she happened to meet shy, reticent Ellen. Like Ellen’s f inding her father, Anne Marie’s connection with her daughter had started with her own list of twenty wishes.
“Ellen quiet?” Tim said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“She’s gradually come out of her shell.”
“Tell me more about her. Tell me everything you can remember.”
Anne Marie did, and before she knew it, almost two hours had passed. “Oh, my goodness, I’ve been talking up a storm.” She laughed. “No, make that a hurricane.”
“I’ve enjoyed every word,” he said contentedly. His interest was genuine and his love for the daughter he’d never known had touched her heart.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked.
Like her, he seemed reluctant to part.
“Okay.”
“I’ll take you by the agency where Dad and I work.”
She nodded, curious about everything concerning her daughter’s father.
Tim paid for their meals and they strolled down the street. When they came to the agency, he pointed to the names printed on the door. “I hope Ellen and my parents will get the opportunity to meet one day,” he said casually. Then, as if he feared he’d said something he shouldn’t, he added, “Only if you agree, of course.”
“Eventually,” she said, willing to consider it.
“They never lost faith in me,” he said. “While I was using, they were tough. They didn’t approve of the choices I was making and yet, when I hit bottom, my father was there for me. Mom, too. They’re the ones who arranged for me to enter rehab.” He hadn’t told her much about what he referred to as his “wasted years.”
“At the time I wasn’t capable of doing anything for myself. I needed help and like I said, my parents were there.”
“They sound like wonderful people.”
“They are. I’m very fortunate. A lot of addicts and alcoholics don’t have the family support I do. It’s made all the difference to me.”
“You’ve been clean and sober for eight years?”
“By the grace of God, nearly nine. For me, it’s one day at a time and it always will be. I attend AA meetings at the rehab center every Thursday night. It’s encouraging for people going through rehab to see someone who’s successfully completed the program and stayed clean all these years.”
They wandered back to where Anne Marie had parked her car. “Thank you for a good evening,” she said. It had been, in more ways than he probably realized.
Tim opened her car door. “You’re welcome. And…thank you. ”
He stood on the curb, lifting one hand in a small wave as she pulled away.
Driving home, Anne Marie felt reassured, free of the worry and fear she’d experienced only a few hours ago. She hadn’t been prepared to like Tim Carlsen, but she did.
She actually liked him quite a bit.
Chapter 21
Teaching a child to knit is one of the greatest joys a knitter can experience.
—Karen Thalacker, author of Knitting with Gigi and Gigi Knits…and Purls. www.gigiknits.com 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 disappointed, 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 Pacif ic 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 Schoolof 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 thousandpiece 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 f loor 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 f ive 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 f inished my letter, I sealed the envelope and went in search of a stamp. I thought there might be one on the diningroom 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 f ind all the border pieces f irst,” 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 f irst, 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.