by Holly Jacobs
The girl seemed clearly confused at the thought of anyone wanting her that much.
“And she’s a hippie,” he stated. He was surprised to hear a teenager referencing hippies.
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Really, keep your distance or you’ll be...”
“Eating quinoa.”
She laughed. “Yes.”
Willow turned and started toward the car again, but Sawyer called out, “Hey, what’s her name?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” She ran back over to him, pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket. “That’s her name, my name—not that you don’t remember me—our address and both our phone numbers. And there’s my social worker and my juvenile probation officer. She says I’m not supposed to be doing it to impress my probation officer, and that unless he asks, I shouldn’t say anything about making restitution like this. She says that doing things for show is shallow. You do the right thing because it’s right, not for glory or recognition. She says that you can call my probation guy if you want, but I’m not supposed to look for credit for doing what’s right.”
“She says a lot of things,” Sawyer said.
Willow sighed, but he thought he detected a slight smile behind her put-upon expression. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” the girl assured him. “I swear, I almost wish she’d smack me when I screw up. It would be fast and over much more quickly.” She obviously spoke from experience and Sawyer found himself angry at the thought of anyone hitting the girl.
“But no, not her,” Willow continued. “She just looks disappointed and then starts talking. Pretty soon I’m doing what she wants just to get her to shut up.”
Sawyer was intrigued by this foster mom who was only twelve years older than the teen at his door.
“I told her that someday I’m going to write a book filled with all the things she says,” Willow continued. “She just laughed and said she’d come to my book signing. She’s always happy and smiling and believing that everyone is better than they really are. Except at night.”
“What happens at night?” he asked, but Willow was gone. She was getting in the car with... He glanced at the paper she’d handed him. Audrey Smith.
It looked as though he was going to have to cancel his lawn service, then he was going to look up quinoa on the net.
* * *
AUDREY SAT IN the car while Willow talked to Sawyer Williams.
Watching the man was a pleasure. Really, it was absolutely pure pleasure.
He was tall, but not too tall. She was sure he checked the box next to brown when asked what color his hair was, but she wasn’t sure that was an adequate description. It was the sort of brown that probably turned lighter in the summer, and darkened to almost black in the winter. It was on its way to lightening up now.
She wondered what he’d look like if he smiled.
She’d driven Willow here weekly and had hurt for the girl every time the man slammed the door in her face.
But for whatever reason, today was different. Sawyer Williams was talking to Willow. Not just threatening to call the cops, but talking.
Willow was heading toward the car when she suddenly turned around and handed Sawyer a card before she walked toward Audrey.
“How’d it go?” Audrey asked as Willow slid in beside her.
“Well, I had to threaten him...”
“Willow.”
Willow laughed. “With quinoa. Well, quinoa and you. Anyway, he finally agreed. Reluctantly.”
Audrey couldn’t help but grin. She knew that Willow probably wouldn’t see Sawyer agreeing to let her work for free all summer as a victory, but it was. The girl had set her mind to a goal and she’d achieved it. As far as Audrey could tell, there hadn’t been very many victories in Willow’s life.
“That’s great, Willow.”
“Says the woman who’s not going to spend her summer mowing a huge lawn for nothing.”
Audrey’s smile faded. “Not for nothing.”
She knew how guilt could eat at someone. Even if it was guilt over circumstances that weren’t entirely your fault. She didn’t want that for Willow. And the juvenile court system’s slap on the wrist wasn’t enough to assuage Willow’s guilt. But a summer of sweating under the hot sun, doing something tangible for Sawyer...that might.
“No, not for nothing,” Willow admitted.
Audrey’s smile was firmly back in place as she announced, “Well, this calls for a celebration. School’s officially over. You’ve accomplished your goal.”
“Your goal,” Willow sniped.
Audrey glanced at her. The merest hint of a smile was playing at the edges of Willow’s scowl.
Audrey took that as a good sign. “Hey, no matter who set the goal, it’s been met, so we’re celebrating.”
“You all look for reasons to celebrate,” Willow groused. After a pause, she added, “What do you have in mind?”
“I know just the thing,” Audrey assured her.
“Quinoa salad?” Willow teased.
Again, Audrey felt encouraged. Maybe she was finally reaching Willow. She wanted to. She’d been doing everything she could think of since the day the teenager walked into her house.
“Something even better,” she assured Willow. “Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe there’s anything better, but this might qualify. We’ll do dinner at home, then head out.”
They drove the five minutes back to her house and found Maggie May waiting at the front door when they pulled in.
“So how did it go?” she called as Audrey and Willow got out of the car.
When Audrey had bought her house in Wesleyville—a borough between the city of Erie and the Harborcreek home they’d just come from—she’d thought the small house with the big yard had everything she needed. She’d slowly renovated and rehabbed the house until it had everything she wanted, as well.
But it turned out the small house had one huge bonus that no real estate agent could have known about. It had come with Maggie Mayberry as a next-door neighbor.
Maggie May, as the kids called her, was somewhere south of sixty and widowed. She had watched the kids during summer vacations since they’d moved in. Over the past few years Maggie had become more than a neighbor; she’d become family.
“He said yes,” Willow said. “I had to threaten him, though,” she added with a grin.
“With?” Maggie asked.
“Quinoa.” Willow said it as if it were a curse word.
“Hey, you said quinoa was better than you thought,” Audrey protested.
Willow and Maggie both laughed. “It is good,” Audrey protested even as she joined in.
“Congratulations, Willow,” Maggie said.
“We’re going to go to the peninsula tonight,” Audrey told her. “You’re invited for dinner and a sunset.”
“Ask me next time,” Maggie May said. “We both know there will be a next time sooner rather than later. I’ve got a date tonight.”
“Do tell?” Audrey said.
Maggie offered her a small, mysterious smile. “It’s only our second one. If he makes it past date five, I’ll tell.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Audrey assured her.
As Maggie disappeared into her own home, Willow said, “A sunset? We’re going to celebrate with a sunset?”
“Have you ever gone out to the peninsula for sunset?” Audrey countered.
“No.” Willow’s tone made it obvious that she didn’t think a sunset could qualify as much of a celebration.
“Then give it a try and tell me later what you think.”
The sunsets on Erie’s Presque Isle peninsula were one of her favorite parts of summer. When she sat on the rocky beach staring out at the western horizon, all she could see was water and sky. The world seemed limitless.
“A sunset...” Willow muttered as she stalked into the house.
Audrey sighed. Willow had only lived with her since February—not quite half a year. One day soon she’d really reach her.
She just had to keep trying and be patient.
Unfortunately, patience wasn’t one of Audrey’s greatest gifts.
It wasn’t even a minor gift, if she was being honest with herself.
She picked up the mail, placed the bills in one pile and dropped the junk mail in another. There was one envelope that was obviously neither. She opened it and felt sick. It was an invitation to her ten-year high school reunion, the last Saturday in August at the Bayfront Convention Center.
Her heart sank. She didn’t want to go. She doubted that Merrill or Ava would be there, and other than the two of them, there was no one she really wanted to see. Actually, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see Merrill and Ava. They’d kept in touch, but only just barely since high school.
She didn’t want to look back. There was nothing to be gained by it.
“Aud,” Clinton and Bea shouted in unison.
Audrey crumpled the invitation and put it in the recycle pile. She turned her attention to the kids.
“It’s official,” Clinton announced. “We’re on summer vacation.”
“And Willow finally convinced Mr. Williams to let her mow his lawn,” Audrey said.
“Good for you, Willow,” Clinton called up the stairs. Audrey guessed the girl had made a beeline for her bedroom, confirmed moments later by the sound of a door slamming.
Clinton was only a year younger than Willow, but in so many ways he was much older. He’d grown up too soon and she knew that part of that was her fault. She felt a familiar stab of pain. She’d done her best to give him a childhood, but she wasn’t always sure that her best had been good enough. At least she had given him security and a family.
“I thought we’d go to the beach to celebrate the official start to our summer and Willow’s successful campaign.”
“Sunset,” Bea squealed. “Our first one of the year. It’s still too cold to swim, right?”
It had been a brutal winter that hadn’t given way to spring until almost April. Two months hadn’t been enough to warm the Great Lake up enough for Audrey to swim, or even dunk her toes. “Well, too cold for me,” she told the ten-year-old.
Bea’s long brown braid bounced against her back. Bianca Cruz was built of sturdier stuff than Audrey. Over the winter, while Audrey had dressed in layers, Bea had walked around barefoot. “I’ll put my suit on just in case.”
“A sunset?” Willow said as she came back into the room and stared at her foster siblings. “Really, that’s your idea of a celebration?” She walked up to the counter, grabbed an apple and then went up the stairs again. Moments later, her bedroom door slammed.
“I don’t think she’s impressed,” Clinton said with typical dry humor.
“That’s because she hasn’t experienced one yet,” Audrey said with more optimism than she felt.
“You might not win her over, Aud,” he said softly. “You might have to concede to that someday.”
“It doesn’t matter. She needs us, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Everyone needs someone. I was lucky that I had you to work for, to fight for. And now Willow’s got us, even if she doesn’t want us.”
Clinton was too old to hug much anymore, but he made an exception this once and squeezed her tight. He was taller than she was now.
“All we can do is try,” Clinton said with his old-man wisdom.
Audrey nodded. “Let’s make short work of dinner so we can get out to the beach in time for that sunset.”
* * *
A COUPLE HOURS LATER, she sat on a blanket, one arm wrapped around the very damp Bea, watching as the sun neared the edge of the horizon.
It had been a lovely evening. She’d even coaxed Willow into joining the family selfie. Now, if only she could get the girl to enjoy herself.
“Really, you guys, this isn’t a celebration, it’s a...” Willow started to complain again.
“Shh,” Bea said. “We’ll miss it.” Her teeth chattered as she pulled the towel more tightly around her.
Audrey still couldn’t believe that Bea had braved the lake. No one else would join her. Not even Clinton, and Bea could normally persuade him to do almost anything.
“Miss what?” Willow asked.
Bea’s teeth chattered as she said, “Audrey knows a lady who owns a chocolate shop in town. The lady says if you listen hard enough, sometimes you can hear the sun hiss when it hits the water.”
Willow scoffed. “Oh, come on...”
Audrey caught Clinton glaring at Willow, as if warning her against hurting Bea’s feelings. His look was enough to shut down Willow’s rant before it really started.
They all knew that logically they’d never hear the sun hit the water, but that didn’t stop them from trying every summer.
Slowly, the sun drew closer and closer to the distant horizon where Lake Erie met the sky. The clouds overhead parted just enough to allow a small band of color to show through. Tonight it was a brilliant pinkish orange.
Seconds later the sun sank below the horizon and disappeared, the color of the sky fading to a lavender blue.
Audrey let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Did anyone hear it?” Bea asked.
“Not this time,” Audrey said.
“Me, neither.” Clinton shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to try again next week.”
“How about you?” Audrey asked Willow.
The teenager shook her head. “Of course I didn’t. That’s really stupid.”
“Aud’s friend says when her son was little, they always listened,” Clinton admonished. “They thought they heard it once.”
Willow looked as if she was going to argue, but Audrey headed her off. “We all know it’s just a charming story, Willow. But like a favorite fairy tale, we enjoy it. We come out weekly during the summer to try and hear that hiss.”
Willow shook her head again. “You guys are really weird. Seriously, really weird.”
Rather than take offence, Clinton laughed. “You’ve only been here a few months. You don’t know the half of it.”
Willow gave them one more disgusted look, then stalked toward the car.
“She’s doing better,” Bea mused. “I thought she’d be meaner about the sunset.”
“Me, too,” Audrey admitted. “We’ll win her over eventually.”
“You’ll win her over,” Bea said. “You and Clinton. She just doesn’t understand what it’s like to be loved. I know I was little, but I didn’t know, either, until Clinton, then you.”
Audrey gathered up their blanket, then followed her family back to the car.
It was time to go home.
CHAPTER TWO
THE NEXT MORNING, Audrey woke up with a start. She was sweating and her breath came in fast, shallow gulps, as if she’d just run a race.
“Audrey, Audrey...” Someone was shaking her. She turned and saw Clinton staring down at her. He was pale and his expression was pinched with worry.
“You screamed this time,” he said. “You haven’t done that in a while.”
She scooted higher in the bed and leaned back against the pillow. “I’m so sorry I woke you up.”
He sat gingerly beside her. “Same dream?”
She nodded, though it wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare—one she couldn’t escape.
One she shouldn’t escape.
It had to be the invitation to her reunion that had brought back the events of that awful night.
Audrey winced. She had a college degree and a job she loved. She owned her house. Well, along with the bank. And she ha
d the family she’d always dreamed of.
She should be able to forget. She looked at Clinton.
No, never forget.
She just wished she could put the events of that night behind her. It had changed everything. That one moment had sent her life hurtling in a whole new direction.
She thought of Frost’s poem about two paths. At least the narrator had had a choice.
She took Clinton’s hand and he gave hers a squeeze.
She sometimes marveled at how many good things had also come from that one awful moment.
“Mom?” Bea called from the doorway. Most of the time, the kids called her Audrey, or even Aud, but on occasion Clinton and Bea called her Mom.
“Come on in, sweetie.” She patted the bed, and Bea took the invite, ran over and jumped in next to her. “So, basically, I woke up everyone?”
Bea snuggled close. “Yeah, but it’s okay. We’d have to get up soon, anyway. I started the coffee for you.”
“Wow, how did I get so lucky?” Audrey asked.
She heard the bathroom door slam down the hall.
“Not all that lucky,” Bea whispered. “You woke Willow up, too. She’s not happy about it.”
Clinton snorted. “She’s never happy.”
It had only been four months, Audrey reminded herself...again.
“Well, as long as we’re all up, let’s get our day started.” Audrey sat up in bed. “I’ve got to go into the office today for a meeting, so you guys are hanging out with Maggie May.”
“Are you going to hear about your project?” Clinton asked.
“Yes. I feel nervous every time I think about it.” She knew that even if the firm was awarded the project it wouldn’t be her project. She was too new, too young to be in charge, but it felt like hers.
She’d gone to work at Lebowitz Architecture expecting to do grunt work for years. But Mr. Lebowitz was a one-man firm, and because of that, it wasn’t long before he’d also let her take an active role in the houses he’d designed. She’d eventually helped at every stage, from planning through construction. She frequently drove by those houses, two of them in particular, simply to admire them.