Three Little Words

by Ashley Rhodes-Courter

Will grabbed it. “Wow!” he said. “Look at that boat and the dock!”

  Sam joined in. “And get a load of that gigantic Christmas tree.”

  “Why would they show you a table full of food?” Sabrina wrinkled her nose.

  I snatched the album back and thumbed through it again. At the end there was a letter written to me: We are the Courters. Phil and Gay met when we were working for the same company in New York City in 1968. At that time, we were making films for children. We fell in love almost from the minute we met and were married within that year. We have been together ever since and have a very happy marriage and home…. We still make movies and videos, often about children and families. Sometimes we have to travel for business, but we often take our children with us….

  As a few more kids trickled in, Will announced, “Ashley’s got a family!”

  “Me too!” cried Luke. He rushed into the room waving another album.

  I checked out the Hudsons, who were younger and more like what I had in mind. The Hudsons also had dogs, which I preferred to the Courters’ five cats; but it was the Courters’ home that won me over. Although it did not have lion statues guarding the front door, it was close to my dream castle.

  I went to my room so I could continue reading the letter from the Courters in private. They had two sons. Blake was twenty-three and had just graduated from college; Josh was twenty and still in college. Gay was a writer who was just finishing her eighth book, and Philip made films. The letter mentioned that they flew airplanes. I could not imagine what this family was like or why they would want me.

  The letter went on to describe their five cats—one had only three legs, and they all had peculiar names. Then it continued: Outside our house is the Crystal River In the winter, the manatees are all around us and sometimes dolphins swim up to the dock. There are many types of birds, fish in the water, and sometimes a whole family of otters. At night, there are alligators that we can see if we take flashlights. There are also raccoons, possums, and armadillos hanging around. Now and then, you can even spot a wild pig in the road! And there are all sorts of frogs, toads, and bugs too! This sounded more like a place that Luke would enjoy. He liked cats and bugs and would be thrilled to see a gator. None of that interested me.

  I went back to the photos and studied the paisley bedspread in the room that would be mine, the tiles edging the swimming pool, the curvy sofa in the living room, the size of the boat tied at the dock, and the pots hanging over the kitchen sink. I tried to imagine walking from room to room, sleeping in the large bed without an annoying roommate, or strolling along the seawall to see the manatees. I wondered if they would let me invite friends over for a pool party or even sleepovers.

  I continued reading the letter. We have a very happy, fun family. We always try to help each other out and make sure that everyone is feeling okay. Phil and Gay take turns with chores and taking care of our children. If there is a big job, we all pitch in together to get it done, and then we can be free to have fun sooner. We have a lot of love to give to more children and we believe that if everyone cares about each other, everyone can be happy.

  That sounded like something they thought they should write, because on closer inspection, their expressions in the photographs did not look as happy-go-lucky as their words claimed, but I figured they would be able to offer me opportunities. I couldn’t decide if they seemed more like one of those quirky sitcom families or a bunch of weirdos who make a good first impression but flip out behind closed doors. But I realized that it would be stupid to pass up this opportunity—with or without Luke. It looked like a good deal; I’d get a lot of attention, a lot of stuff, and it couldn’t be worse than most of the places I had been. If I really hated it, I could always come back to The Children’s Home. Lots of others had—even after they had been adopted.

  “They’re coming! They’re coming!” Luke called out. He had been on lookout since dawn.

  I watched both families get out of a van. All four were wearing Tshirts, shorts, and sandals. After brief introductions the Hudson family steered Luke to a picnic bench near the parking lot. The staff picked the farthest table for themselves so they could be inconspicuous.

  Gay and Phil positioned themselves on a bench with me in the middle. I managed to squirm enough so I did not have to touch them. Nobody spoke. I gazed up at the trees where a deflated red balloon was caught in some branches.

  Phil broke the silence. “Do you have any questions for us?”

  “Where did you get that necklace?” I asked Gay without looking directly at her.

  “At a craft shop in Maine.” Gay lifted it over her head and handed it to me. All the beads were made from blown glass.

  “What will my bedtime be?” I said as I fingered the smooth leaves interspersed with bird and fish shapes on her necklace.

  “That depends on what time school starts,” Phil said.

  “How much allowance will I get?”

  “Our sons got five dollars a week in middle school,” he replied.

  Gay changed the subject. “Want a snack?”

  Phil fetched the cooler, which they had filled with sodas, juices, various kinds of cheese, several boxes of crackers, and jars of peanut butter and jelly.

  I slipped Gay’s necklace over my neck. “How did you know I love cheese?”

  Gay grinned. “A little mouse clued us in.”

  I thought this was her lame attempt to be funny. I glanced over to the table where Ms. Sandnes was sitting. She had come back for the day to be supportive. “Ms. Sandnes?”

  “Actually, it was your guardian,” Gay admitted.

  The cracker tasted like paste and the juice was too sweet. “Want to see my room?” I led the way to the cottage.

  “Why don’t you adopt me?” Will shouted as we walked past the living room.

  “My room’s back here,” I said, “but men aren’t allowed.”

  “It’s okay,” said Ms. Sandnes, who had been trailing us.

  “Can you reach that?” I pointed to the Tiffany & Co. box on my top shelf. When Phil handed it down, I opened it. “My mother gave me this music box.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Gay said. “Your mother really cared about you.”

  I twisted her beads so hard I thought they might snap.

  Ms. Sandnes coughed. “I guess we need to be going,” Phil said, “but we can come back on Monday, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Outside, Luke hugged the Hudsons and said, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.”

  The Courters stood stiffly. I kept my distance as we walked to the parking area. Phil opened the car door for Gay. She hesitated and waved.

  “Wait!” I called. “Don’t forget your necklace.”

  “Do you want to borrow it?” she asked.

  “What if something happens to it?”

  “We care about people, not things.”

  When they arrived for dinner on Monday, I could barely face Gay.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I gulped. “I accidentally broke your necklace.” I explained that I had worn it to school. “When a girl grabbed for it, I decided to put it in my book bag, but it got squashed on the school bus and one of the glass leaves split in half.”

  “It’s my fault,” Gay responded. “I should have realized it was too fragile.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Of course not!” she said, although I was not sure she meant it.

  We had pizza, but I barely ate anything. “How long have you known about me?”

  “We first heard about you six months ago,” Phil said.

  “Have you seen me before?”

  “Many times,” Phil said with a laugh.

  When the Courters rattled off how often they had been at The Children’s Home, I was shocked. I could not believe they heard my welcoming speech at the Murphey Awards and saw me dance at an event several months earlier. I knew that Phil had filmed me at the camp pool but not that Gay had watched my
Lucille Ball skit at the talent show. How could I have been oblivious to the family that had been shopping for me?

  The next step was a visit to my family’s home. Beth Lord and Sharon Ambrose drove Luke and me to Citrus County. First, we dropped Luke and Ms. Sharon at the Hudsons’ home in a wooded glen, and then Ms. Beth took me about ten miles farther to Crystal River.

  “Hi!” Phil said as he opened the glass front door. I passed by him, ignored Gay, and walked down the hall to a door with a sign that read ASHLEY’S ROOM. I surveyed the room briefly, then returned to the car, retrieved my Tiffany box, and placed it on a shelf in the bedroom. Next, I carried in a garbage bag containing my stuffed animals.

  “Are you moving in?” Phil chuckled tensely.

  “Just putting my stuff where it will be safe.”

  “Okay …” Gay glanced first at Phil, then at Beth Lord.

  “Are you hungry?” Gay asked. My stomach was doing cartwheels, so I only shrugged. “Do you like pasta?”

  “I guess.”

  Phil led the way into the kitchen. “Have you ever made noodles from scratch?” I shook my head. “Do you want thinner spaghetti or fatter fettuccini?”

  “Fettuccini.” It sounded more sophisticated, although I was not sure what the difference was. I helped Phil pour the eggs, water, and flour into a machine, then hang the strands on a rotating stand he had built.

  Gay chopped onions and peeled tomatoes. “I can make any kind of sauce. Would you prefer white or red?” I did not react. “Some people prefer it plain with butter….”

  “Just RagÚ.”

  “Let me check the pantry.”

  For a minute I thought she had said “panty” and was confused. She came out of a little room holding a jar. “We use it for pizza,” she said apologetically to Beth Lord. She started to pour it in a pot.

  “I prefer it cold.”

  Gay grimaced but allowed me to dump the sauce directly on the pasta from the jar. I stirred it around, took a few bites. The noodles were too chewy. When Phil noticed I had not touched most of my food, I apologized. “I’m a picky eater.”

  “We’ll figure out what you like, and you might learn to try new foods.” He grinned. “Like sushi.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Raw fish.”

  He was kidding, right? There was a pause. I forced a laugh. They laughed. What had I gotten myself into?

  A few days later Gay arrived to take me clothes shopping. She wanted to buy me a fancy dress because we were going to see Phantom of the Opera for her birthday.

  Gay held up a purple dress with a lace collar and puffy sleeves. “That’s dorky,” I said, moving toward a rack of silky dresses with spaghetti straps. I picked out a turquoise one with a low-cut neckline. Gay shook her head. “But I look better in blue and I despise purple.”

  “It’s not the color” was all she said.

  We found two dresses I didn’t hate, and we picked out some other things I really liked: overall shorts, striped shirts in several colors, and a pair of designer jeans.

  “Okay, let’s try them on,” Gay said.

  I refused to go into the dressing room. “How will you know if they fit?” she asked.

  “Ms. Sandnes bought my clothes for me. If they didn’t fit, she returned them.”

  “I live two hours away, Ashley, so you’ll have to try them on now.” I could tell she was annoyed. “You can have your privacy; just show me the ones you like.”

  I stormed out of the store because I did not want to admit that I had never been in a dressing room before.

  Gay caught up with me. “How about a snack?”

  We shared a large cinnamon pretzel and had lemonade, but the sugar caught in my throat and the drink was too sour.

  For the next visit the Courters were permitted to take me to their home without a staff member supervising, but I could not stay overnight. I half expected they would change their minds, yet Phil was right on time to pick me up. We went out on their boat and swam in their pool. I especially liked the way Phil made grilled cheese sandwiches.

  I checked out the pictures of the family on the walls. Several featured Phil piloting a small plane. Maybe I would go flying with him someday.

  When Gay drove me home that evening, she prattled on about some girls my age in the neighborhood. “You’ll like them; they’re really nice.”

  Yeah, nice, I thought. This person does not have a clue about me. “When I was in foster care, some of the people weren’t very nice,” I began tentatively.

  She nodded. “Did you know that I’m a Guardian ad Litem like Mary Miller? I’ve visited some pretty ghastly foster homes.”

  “Not as bad as this one.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Instead of freaking when I described the most gruesome of the Mosses’ punishments, she spoke calmly. “That sounds like it would have made you angry.”

  “It did!” I began telling her about the hot sauce, and by the time we reached the cottage, I had revealed more to her in two hours than I had to Mary Fernandez in two years.

  After several daytime visits I was allowed to stay with the Courters overnight. Ms. Sandnes, who was now doing her master’s internship at the home’s therapy department, dropped me off. When we pulled into the circular driveway, I asked, “Couldn’t I just stay a little while and then go back with you?”

  “Ashley, you’ll be fine,” Ms. Sandnes insisted. “Here.” She reached behind her and pulled her college sweatshirt from the backseat. “You can borrow this.”

  I put it on inside out and wore it the whole time I was there. Twenty-four hours later I was eager to return to the campus, although after fifteen minutes of the usual cottage commotion, I wanted to be back with the Courters.

  For Gay’s birthday I wore a black velvet dress with white stripes down the sides that Ms. Sandnes had picked out. Gay also had chosen a black-and-white outfit, so we matched. At the restaurant at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center, the mingling smells of buffet food made me queasy. I only took a few bites of a dinner roll.

  “Would you like butter on that?” Gay asked. I wrinkled my nose.

  “How about dessert?” Phil pointed out an array of cakes and pies.

  “I don’t like many sweets.”

  We climbed the steps to the performing arts center. I glanced from my left to my right. Were this balding man and this intimidating woman really going to be my parents?

  10.

  testing, testing

  Ever since Ms. Sandnes left, I found everything about The Children’s Home irritating. I saw no reason to do well in my new middle school. My first sixth-grade report card was the worst I had ever received.

  “When can I move already?” I asked Beth Lord.

  “Everyone has to follow the visitation schedule.” Her eyes crinkled as she gave a secretive smile. “But I have good news. The judge signed the order giving you permission to go to New England with the Courters next week.”

  Though I wanted to meet my new brothers, I was worried about being alone with the Courters for so long—and getting enough regular food to eat.

  When we arrived at the airport, I was surprised to be at a gate for a large airplane. “I thought you guys had your own plane.”

  “We don’t have one anymore.” Phil sighed.

  “It’s a long story,” Gay said slowly.

  “Did you crash it or something?”

  “Actually, we did,” Phil said. “And you should be glad.”

  It seemed to me that I never knew what the Courters were going to say next, and that made me feel uncomfortable—like I would never belong.

  Gay fumbled in her purse and came up with a stack of pictures. She shuffled through recent ones of her sons and lots of me. On the bottom were several photos showing a plane with a broken wing and a smashed propeller in a field.

  “The three of us were on our way to Blake’s graduation from Princeton,” Gay began. “Josh had just completed his first year at Hampshire College and was
going to begin his internship with a commercial film-editing house in New York the following week, so we packed the plane with all his stuff and flew north from here. It was a gorgeous day—not a cloud in the sky—and we were so happy and proud.”

  Her voice faltered and Phil took over. “We had just crossed the Chesapeake Bay and I did not want to have to deal with Philadelphia’s busy air traffic controllers, so I descended to stay out of their jurisdiction and headed for Trenton.”

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. “There was a loud bang.” Gay was staring out at a jet that was coming in for a landing with a constricted expression on her face.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Total engine failure.” Phil paused. “We used our instruments to find the nearest airport.”

  “And I picked up the microphone and told the Trenton tower about the emergency,” Gay added.

  “There should have been a small airport five miles away,” Phil said. “Josh noticed a break between some trees that might have been a grass strip, but we couldn’t line up for it without any engine.”

  “Then Josh spied an L-shaped field, which was the only open space in miles of forest, and told Phil, ‘Dad, I think that’s the best we’re going to do,’” Gay continued.

  “Yeah,” Phil muttered.

  “I looked out my side window and saw the field rushing up. We had landed on grass strips before, but this one was dotted with mounds that looked like waves undulating toward us.” Gay made a dipping motion with her hand. “There was a stand of pine trees at the far end of the field. I prayed that we would not smash full force into the woods. To our right was a small red barn. Phil steered away from it, but it was connected to a fence directly in our path.”

  Gay’s eyes locked with Phil’s. “I kept talking to the tower. ‘We’re touching down … it’s bumpy … we’re going through a fence …’”

  “A fence post made from a railroad tie had hit the center of the right wing violently enough to spin the plane sideways,” Phil explained. “Brown dust engulfed the plane as we slid down the field that angled out to the right. Both the swift turn and the thick soil slowed the plane, and we came to a jerky stop.”