They toasted each other, touching glasses, and began the meal. She discovered that Hector preferred his food spicier than she did but he’d made the sauce fairly mild, adding chili peppers to his own. Another example of his thoughtfulness.
In the beginning their conversation was tentative. But it wasn’t long before the hesitation dissolved and they found any number of topics to discuss. They agreed on political issues and surprisingly had enjoyed some of the same films and novels. Hector bragged about his grandchildren and she told stories about her grandsons. The conversation flowed naturally from one subject to the next as they lingered over their wine. Afterward, despite Hector’s protests, Lillie helped with the dishes. Her shoes hurt her feet, so she took them off and tucked a dishtowel into her waistband as she moved effortlessly around his kitchen.
Hector put on some easy-listening music from the ’70s, and soon they were dancing about the room, twirling and laughing. He kissed her once, twice, and it was as natural as breathing. His touch left her with the most inexplicable urge to weep. Rather than allow him to see the effect his kisses had on her, she buried her face in his shoulder.
Hector released her and they both went back to cleaning the kitchen, dancing around each other as they did.
He was about to kiss her again when the back door opened and Manuel walked inside. Lillie recognized him from his photograph. “Dad, I need to borrow your—” He stopped abruptly. “Dad!” he barked, shouting to be heard above the music.
Instinctively Lillie stepped closer to Hector. He leaned over to turn off the CD player on the counter, and the resulting silence was almost shocking.
Hector straightened, putting his arm around Lillie’s waist. “Son, this is my friend, Lillie Higgins. Lillie, this is Manuel.”
Manuel nodded politely in her direction but addressed his father. “I didn’t realize you had a woman friend.”
“Your father’s told me quite a bit about you,” Lillie said, feeling guilty although she wasn’t sure why.
“Funny, he hasn’t said a word about you.” Manuel gave her a cold look.
Hector placed one hand on her shoulder and spoke gently. “If you’ll excuse me, I will talk to my son privately.” He ushered Manuel out of the room.
She nodded and finished wiping the kitchen counter. She rinsed and wrung out the cloth, then draped it over the faucet and removed her makeshift apron. Slipping on her shoes, she stood in the kitchen and waited for Hector.
Manuel left without saying anything else to Lillie and she could see from the look in Hector’s eyes that the conversation hadn’t gone well. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and walked into his arms.
“I’m the one who owes you an apology,” he murmured, holding her close. “My son was inexcusably rude.”
“What did he say?” she asked.
Hector shook his head, obviously unwilling to repeat what his son had said. Lillie closed her eyes and remembered Barbie’s immediate response when she’d told her she was interested in a man who worked for a car dealership.
“Give him time to adjust to the idea,” she urged.
“Perhaps that’s the best thing to do.”
He took Lillie home soon after that; they were both quiet during the drive. When they reached her house, Hector walked her to the door. She thanked him for dinner, they kissed goodnight and then he left. Not until she was inside did she realize that he hadn’t asked to see her again.
Lillie felt sick.
This was the end; she was sure of it. His family and their opinion mattered more to Hector than his own happiness. Even if he was torn, and she knew he was, Hector would appease his children rather than fight for a relationship with her.
When she didn’t hear from him the next day or the day after that, Lillie decided to make this as painless as possible for them both. She wrote him a letter.
She’d only intended to write a brief note but by the time she finished she’d written three full pages. She described her list of Twenty Wishes and said that one of her wishes had been to meet an honorable man. She’d found that man in him.
In the last paragraph she explained that she had no desire to damage his relationship with his children and felt it was best that they not see each other again.
With tears in her eyes, she dropped the letter off at the post office. After a quick phone call to Barbie, she booked a trip to the coast.
Chapter 29
Anne Marie was fortunate enough to nab a spot in the Woodrow Wilson parking lot. She was back to the routine of Lunch Buddy dates and had brought Baxter with her for this visit.
Yesterday, when Ellen and Anne Marie had spoken, the eight-year-old had told her how much she missed her canine friend.
Bringing Baxter today was a surprise, and Anne Marie could hardly wait to see the child’s face light up.
The transition from Anne Marie’s home to her grandmother’s had gone smoothly. Anne Marie wished she could say Ellen’s departure had been as straightforward for her. The apartment just wasn’t the same without Ellen; it was still too quiet, too empty. Her life felt that way, too. The child had found a vulnerable space in her heart, and Anne Marie had discovered how much she craved love. She wanted to give it as well as receive it.
Of course, she was in regular touch with Ellen and would continue to be so. She’d already arranged a trip to Woodland Park Zoo for that Saturday. Anne Marie was looking forward to it and she knew Ellen was, too. Dolores needed the break and seemed to appreciate Anne Marie’s interest in the girl.
Ellen’s grandmother was a pitiable woman. She blamed herself for what had become of her two daughters, and all the love in her heart was reserved for her only granddaughter. Dolores lived for Ellen. Since she’d been released from the hospital, Dolores had told Anne Marie that she’d searched for more than a year before she’d found Ellen. Once she did locate the child in the California foster care program, it had taken nearly another year to convince Child Protective Services to grant her custody of the little girl. Ellen had been with her grandmother for three years now, and the older woman had given her the security she so desperately needed.
As Anne Marie headed into the school, with Baxter on his leash, she saw Helen Mayer, the counselor, hurrying toward her.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here,” Helen said. “The woman who answered the phone at the bookstore told me you were on your way.”
“Is something wrong? Is Ellen okay?”
“Please—come into my office.”
With a growing sense of panic, Anne Marie picked up Baxter and followed Helen into the building. She couldn’t imagine what had happened, but all her instincts said it was bad.
The counselor waited until Anne Marie was inside her office, then closed the door and walked slowly to her desk. She sat down and turned to look at Anne Marie.
Tension twisted Anne Marie’s stomach as she lowered herself into a chair. “What is it?” she asked, placing Baxter on the floor near her feet.
“We received word this morning that Dolores Falk died sometime last night.”
Anne Marie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Did…Ellen find her?”
“Apparently she overslept because her grandmother didn’t wake her for school. According to what I learned, she made her own breakfast and decided to let her grandmother sleep. On her way to school she met a neighbor who inquired about Dolores. Ellen explained that her grandmother wasn’t feeling well and that she was still in bed. A short while later, the neighbor went to check on her and when she couldn’t rouse Dolores, she called 911.”
At least the child was spared the trauma of discovering the body. Anne Marie thanked God for that. But this probably meant Ellen didn’t know yet.
“Is she here?” Anne Marie knew how hard Ellen would take the news. Although she dreaded telling her, Anne Marie thought she was the best person to do so. Poor Ellen.
“I’m afraid not,” Helen Mayer said.
Anne Marie barely heard her. “I�
��ll make arrangements to get her things and bring her home with me.” She wondered if Dolores had made funeral arrangements; she’d have to find out.
After burying Robert, Anne Marie had some experience in such matters. The staff at the funeral home had been both kind and respectful. Anne Marie would like them to handle the arrangements for Dolores, too, if that was possible.
“I don’t think you heard me,” the other woman said. “Ellen isn’t at school.”
Anne Marie stared at her, uncomprehending. “Where is she then?”
Helen Mayer placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “About an hour ago, Child Protective Services took her away.”
The words hardly made sense. “What? What do you mean they took her away?”
“I mean they came to the school, told us Ellen’s grandmother had died and that they had to find a home for her.”
“But…”
Helen Mayer gestured helplessly. “The only other relatives Ellen has are her mother, who has relinquished all parental rights, and her aunt, who is apparently incarcerated.”
Anne Marie was well aware that Ellen had no one else. That was the very reason the child had come to live with her while Dolores was hospitalized.
“She’s been placed in a foster home.”
Anne Marie couldn’t believe it. “Already?”
“Yes. I realize it’s a shock. I tried to contact you but you didn’t answer your cell. The woman at the bookstore said you’d be here soon.”
Anne Marie felt disoriented but she had to focus on Ellen. The girl must be terrified. She had to get to her, reassure her that everything would be all right. “I have the name of the social worker assigned to her. She gave me her business card.”
“What are you going to do?” Helen asked.
“I’ll bring Ellen back to live with me.” There was no question about that.
The counselor sighed with relief. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
Anne Marie was on her feet, ready to take action. She committed half a dozen traffic violations in her rush to get back to the bookstore. She prayed she hadn’t thrown out the social worker’s card. In her agitation she couldn’t even recall the woman’s name.
With Baxter at her heels, Anne Marie ran up the stairs. Heart pounding, she stood in the middle of her kitchen while she tried to remember where she’d put the woman’s card.
Suddenly she remembered. She hurried into her bedroom and jerked open the top drawer of her nightstand. Yes—it was there, and the woman’s name was Evelyn Boyle. She collapsed onto her bed and grabbed the phone.
Her hand trembled as she punched out the number. She listened to an automated system that requested the extension, which Anne Marie dutifully supplied. The phone rang five times before Evelyn’s voice mail came on.
“This is Anne Marie Roche,” she said. “I’m calling about Ellen Falk. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.” She gave three phone numbers—home, work and cell—afraid the woman would give up too easily if she couldn’t reach her on the first try.
The waiting was intolerable.
Anne Marie paced, she cleaned out drawers, then paced some more. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she drove to Dolores’s house. The place was locked up. The neighbor who’d found her said the coroner’s office had already removed the body. No one knew anything about Ellen or where she might be. Anne Marie gave the woman her numbers, desperate to learn whatever she could.
When her cell phone finally did ring, it was after four and Anne Marie nearly ripped it out of her purse in her haste.
“This is Anne Marie Roche,” she said, the words tumbling over each other.
“Anne Marie, this is Evelyn Boyle returning your call.”
“Where’s Ellen?” she cried. The child must be frantic. Anne Marie was close to panic herself. Ellen needed her and Anne Marie needed to be with Ellen.
“It’s unfortunate, but the only thing I could do was place her in a temporary foster home. It’s a short-term solution until I can find a permanent home for her.”
“I’ll take her,” Anne Marie blurted out. “Bring her to me.”
“I wish I could. If you recall, when I visited the bookstore I suggested you apply for a license to become Ellen’s foster parent. I didn’t hear from you after that.”
Anne Marie wanted to kick herself for not following through. Had she been able to look into the future, of course, she would’ve started the paperwork that very day. How was she to know? Dolores had been doing so well.
“I promised Dolores Falk that Ellen would never go back into the foster care system. What can I do now? How long will it take to be approved?” Her fear was that the paperwork would still take months. By then, Ellen might have been moved any number of times. Ms. Boyle had said the home where she was currently placed was temporary, which implied that Ellen would be transferred soon.
She remembered Dolores Falk telling her it had taken a year to find Ellen once she’d learned she had a granddaughter, although Anne Marie didn’t know how much of that time had been spent searching in other states.
“We can have a background check done on you in twenty-four hours.”
“Then Ellen can come and live with me?”
“Yes. We want what’s best for Ellen and I feel that’s you.”
The relief was enough to flood her eyes with tears. “Thank you. Thank you.”
The social worker explained the process. Anne Marie tried to pay attention but her mind kept darting off in different directions. One thing that did register was that there’d be a home study, which hadn’t been scheduled yet. The apartment, small as it was, hardly seemed suitable. That would mean an immediate move. Anne Marie didn’t care. She’d do whatever was necessary.
“If everything checks out, I should be able to deliver Ellen to you sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
Anne Marie tried to recall any possible blemish on her record. She had a speeding ticket, but thankfully, nothing of any real importance.
All the next day, Anne Marie waited. The tension was almost more than she could bear. She left three messages for Evelyn Boyle, wanting to make sure there weren’t any problems with her background clearance. The social worker didn’t return any of the calls.
Had Anne Marie known where Ellen was staying, she would’ve driven there and parked outside the house.
When she hadn’t heard anything by five o’clock on Thursday afternoon, Anne Marie was positive something had gone wrong. She’d been useless the entire day, too nervous and jittery to concentrate.
Just as she was about to give up in despair, the door to the bookstore opened and Evelyn Boyle came in with Ellen at her side.
Ellen looked at Anne Marie and burst into tears as she bolted toward her.
Anne Marie fell to her knees, her arms open for Ellen.
They clung tearfully to each other. “You promised, you promised,” Ellen sobbed against her shoulder. “You said—you said…”
“It’s all right,” Anne Marie whispered, brushing Ellen’s hair. “You’re here now, and no one’s going to take you away from me.”
Ellen sniffled. “Grandma Dolores went to live with Jesus.”
“I know.”
“I don’t have anyone who loves me.”
“I love you, Ellen,” Anne Marie whispered, tears streaking her face. “You’re going to be my little girl from now on.”
“I can live with you?”
Anne Marie couldn’t speak, so she just nodded.
“I don’t have to go back to the foster house?”
“No, not ever again.”
Still sobbing, Ellen tightened her arms around Anne Marie’s neck. “Everyone I love goes away.”
“Not anymore, Ellen,” she promised. “Not if I can help it.”
“I loved my mommy and she…she did bad things and she left me and then Grandma Dolores d-died and then you left me.”
“I didn’t leave you,” Anne Marie insisted. “I would never leave you.”
Wiping the tears from her face, Anne Marie stood to find Evelyn Boyle watching her.
“I believe we have a good placement for Ellen,” she said, her own eyes moist.
Anne Marie wasn’t going to make another mistake. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be Ellen’s foster parent.”
A look of shock broke out across the other woman’s face. “I beg your pardon?”
“I want to adopt her,” she said. “I want to make Ellen my legal daughter.” The child was already her daughter in every way that mattered. It was time to make that official.
Chapter 30
“Mom,” Anne Marie said, speaking softly into the receiver. It was late Monday evening, and Ellen had just gone to sleep. The poor kid still wasn’t sleeping well, so Anne Marie didn’t want to risk waking her. Every night since Dolores’s death, Ellen had ended up crawling into bed with Anne Marie and crying herself to sleep. The girl had suffered yet another loss. Being taken out of school, informed that her grandmother was dead and then shuffled off to a foster home hadn’t helped.
“Anne Marie?” her mother murmured. “My goodness, I haven’t heard from you in weeks. Is something wrong? There must be if you’re phoning me this late.”
“I should’ve called earlier.” Handling the funeral arrangements and looking after Ellen had kept her busy. But the truth was, it hadn’t occurred to her to contact her mother until that night.
Even now she hesitated, fearing her mother’s reaction once she learned that Anne Marie was going to adopt Ellen. Her mother had made her disapproval known when she decided to marry Robert. She’d been equally negative when Anne Marie purchased the bookstore. Laura wasn’t a risk-taker and she’d been convinced that Anne Marie would be throwing away her investment. She generally believed in living a cautious, conventional life, although she wouldn’t have put it in those terms.
Despite her mother’s reactions in the past, Anne Marie felt compelled to seek her out. Perhaps it had to do with becoming a mother herself….
Debbie Macomber_Blossom Street 04 Page 26