Rick set his glass back down. “So how about you?”
“Um, what about me?”
“What happened to your last relationship?”
“Oh, well…” She could feel the heat creeping back into her cheeks. “Actually, I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No.” She tried to add a little laugh that said, “What do I care?” but it came out more like a strangled cough.
“I can’t believe that! You’re so easy to talk to, and so kind, and pretty. Did you go to all girls’ schools or something?”
That did make her laugh. “Ah, no. Public school all the way. But when I was a kid…” She’d never told any of her adult friends about her childhood. The only people who’d ever known had been some of her friends in school, but after high school graduation they’d all gone off to college. She’d liked the fact that no one knew anymore. But she also longed to be so close to someone they’d not only know she’d been in the system, they’d know all the circumstances surrounding her placements, and the names of her social workers, and why the families she’d been assigned to had eventually returned her.
Go for it.
“When I was a kid, I was in foster care. Grew up in it, actually. Which means, by the time I was old enough to date, everyone knew I was weird and didn’t have a family, and my clothes were lame, and I seemed to give off this vibe that said…” She searched for the word. Unlovable? Worthless? Damaged? “Uninteresting.” The other words suited better, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Rick. “Anyway, I got used to being alone and just haven’t tried to make myself available.”
Rick shook his head, but he was smiling. “I knew there was a reason we connected so well.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
Rick leaned in, face shining. “I was a foster kid too.”
Her heart stopped. “No way!”
“Way!”
They laughed together at the lame phrase, then Kim said, “But not here in Ann Arbor, right? Because I would have seen you.”
“No, not here. Ohio. I moved here to Michigan after I graduated from high school. Worked at Ford for a while, then went to night school for graphic design.”
“Wow, good for you.”
“Thanks.” He looked genuinely appreciative of her encouragement, and Kim felt again the swell of desire to show him she was on his side.
Rick sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “I can’t believe you were in foster care too. Whole life?”
“Basically. I was five when I went in. You?”
“Nine. But I was only in for a few years.”
“Were you reunited with your family then?” His face clouded and she instantly regretted asking. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, you had no way to know, don’t feel bad.” He took a sip of his wine. “I was, but I shouldn’t have been. My dad was a great actor and had everyone fooled. He did all their classes and all the treatment and all the crap the court said he had to do before he could have me back, but he was still an alcoholic and he still beat me like he had before family services removed me. But after being in the system I knew I didn’t want to go back—better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, know what I mean? I didn’t want to get placed with any more foster families. I figured I might as well stay with my dad, who I at least could predict.”
“So, your mom wasn’t in the picture then.”
“Nope. Never knew her. Just dad and me as far back as I can remember.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s life. How about you?”
Kim took a deep breath to calm the queasiness that began whenever she was asked about her childhood. “Didn’t have a dad; it was just mom and me. I don’t have a lot of memories about her. Most of what I know I found out from my caseworker. When I was twelve they told me she’d been killed in a car accident.” She shrugged. “There wasn’t any other family to take me, so I had to stay in the system.”
“That’s so tragic.”
She forced a grin. “Yeah, I’d say. Though, so is your story.”
Rick took a breadstick and waved it between them. “This is way too depressing for a first date, especially on Valentine’s Day. We’ll talk about all this stuff again some other time. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Excellent. And here comes our appetizer.”
They spent the rest of the evening exploring more pleasant topics, and by the time they’d finished dessert Kim felt like she’d known Rick her whole life. It wasn’t just the shared experience of the foster system. It was their easy conversation, his openness and frank demeanor, and the dozens of little shared enjoyments—favorite movies, favorite foods. When they left the restaurant, she wasn’t surprised when his hand sought and held hers while they dodged frozen puddles in the potholed parking lot.
When they arrived back at her apartment, Rick parked in a visitor space and walked her to the door. “Do you want to come up for some hot chocolate or something?” she asked. “Not very sophisticated, but it sounded better than orange juice, which is about the only other thing I could offer you.”
He laughed, his breath clouding the air. “I wish I could, but I think if I did I would find it very difficult to leave.”
The look on his face made her tongue-tied. This was the kind of face she imagined on men in the romance novels she read, when they were burning with desire for the heroine. She never thought she’d inspire it. “Well, um, stop by any time.”
“I will.”
“Good night.”
He looked about to speak, but instead his hands reached out and landed gently on her cheeks, and before she could react, he was kissing her.
Her brain felt scrambled. She followed his lead, both embarrassed at her lack of experience and eager to communicate her most definite permission. When he finally backed away, she had to lean against the door to steady herself.
He spoke slowly. “I hope it was okay that I did that.”
Kim swallowed and nodded, her brain still fuzzy.
He smiled, his entire face lighting up. “Good night, Kim.”
She managed to find her voice. “Good night, Rick.”
She watched him walk away, hands thrust into his pockets and shoulders hunched against the wind that was picking up. She fumbled her key into the lock and somehow made her way upstairs despite her shaking legs. She let herself in to the apartment where Corrie sat at the table with papers spread out in front of her. “Wow, you’re home late. I was starting to worry.”
“Oh, gosh—I’m sorry.”
“No problem. Just glad you’re okay.”
Kim smiled. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Very okay.
FIVE
I don’t know how I’m going to do this.
Joshua surveyed the couch where Lara’s clothes were piled by season. He’d been all gung-ho when he’d started the project after putting Maddie to bed. But now he could hardly see what he was doing, the memories of Lara in each dress, each blouse, each skirt so vivid in front of him. He had hoped to choose a few special outfits to save for Maddie and then box the rest for Goodwill, but now every outfit seemed special. Even the T-shirts she’d only worn to the gym or while gardening had a handful of memories attached. How could he get rid of any of them?
Am I completely crazy with this move? Can I seriously pack up and leave the first real home we had together? How can I take Maddie away from the one place where she can best remember her mother? It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it? I never should have considered it. Not that it’s too late, I guess, but…
He sat with a black cocktail dress clutched in his hands, eyes trained on but not really seeing the wedding photo above the mantle. Joshua whispered his lament to God. “But I feel like I’m suffocating here. And when I do start dating, I don’t know if I could bring another woman here and not feel like she was intruding. Or like I was cheating.
> “And as difficult as it is to consider dating again, I’m going to have to, if for no other reason than to find Maddie a mother. She’s got me a little nervous about all the mother-talk. She needs a mother, or at least a woman in her life, and who is that going to be? Certainly not Alisha. Not my mom, who’s a thousand miles away.”
He tossed down the dress and stood, pacing aimlessly. “And now George and Alisha are pulling this grandparents’ rights crap! They can’t possibly have a chance. I shouldn’t be worried about that, right?” He rubbed a hand over his face.
“God, I’m stuck. And I’m scared. Am I doing the right thing? Am I going to regret this?” He looked again at the picture of Lara, glowing in her fairy tale wedding dress. She’d had it specially preserved after the wedding, “in case we ever have a girl and Vera Wang knockoffs are still in fashion.” The alternative—staying here, haunted day and night by the ghost of Lara past—was aging him. And he couldn’t afford to get older any faster than nature intended, not with a four-year-old to keep up with.
“You’re going to have to do some serious work on me, God. Starting now, or else I’m going to end up going to sleep right here on these clothes.” He sat again, picked up the cocktail dress, and after staring at it for a while, put it back on its hanger. The dress she’d worn the night he’d proposed. Definitely special.
KIM PULLED HER MAKEUP BAG from her purse, humming along with the music playing over the salon’s speakers. She stared at herself in her station’s mirror and dabbed her nose with powder. She’d never thought about her makeup after applying it in the morning, but now she never left home without the bag so she could freshen up before Rick picked her up after work.
“Another date, huh?” Emma stopped by, leaning against the counter. “You two are really racking them up.”
Kim smiled. “Yup.”
“Why don’t you just put that on in the morning before you come in?”
Kim whisked the blush brush over her cheeks. “I do. But it doesn’t stay fresh. I look all wilted at the end of the day if I do that.”
Emma smirked. “A girl goes through that much hassle to look good, it means she’s got it bad.”
Kim said nothing, but her eyes gave it away. Emma laughed. “Have fun tonight.”
They’d gone out nearly every night since their first date two weeks ago. Despite how their evenings started—restaurant, mall food court, take-out, or foraging for leftovers in one of their kitchens—lately they’d all ended the same, with a make-out session that stopped only with the appearance of Corrie or with Kim’s begrudging insistence that she be getting home.
She gave her nose a final pat, then rummaged in the bag for her eye shadow. Her stomach gave a little flutter as she swiped the color across her eyelids. She was excited to talk to Rick about the idea she’d come up with that morning for a mobile salon business. She and Suzi had brainstormed marketing and equipment needs over lunch, and it had been all she could think about for the rest of the afternoon. She knew Rick would be able to come up with even more ideas. He had that kind of a mind. Maybe he would be able to help her put a business plan together.
Rick was waiting on the sidewalk when she came out. “Hey you.”
“Hey you.” He kissed her and took her hand, leading her to his car. “So what are we cooking tonight?”
“You have two choices: homemade pizza or ravioli.”
“Pizza for sure.”
“Oh good. I wanted to give you a choice but that’s what I was hoping you’d say.” They chatted on the short drive to the grocery store, then wandered down the aisles, picking up their ingredients. After paying for their groceries, they made a mad dash through freezing rain to Rick’s car, where they passed the time while the car heated by engaging in a serious kiss that steamed the windows. Finally Kim thumped Rick’s chest with her mittened hands. “I’m hungry!”
“Okay, okay.” He grinned. “We’ll pick up where we left off after we eat.”
Once home, they made their pizza, then sat at the table to eat a nacho appetizer while it baked. “So I came up with this awesome idea today,” Kim said after munching a handful of chips. “I want to start a mobile salon business.”
Rick froze with a chip halfway into his mouth. “What? Why?”
“I’m getting a little bored, honestly. I like doing hair, and I’m good at it, but I think I’d enjoy the freedom of my own business. Plus, I think I’d be—”
“No, bad idea.” He shook his head and dusted salt from his hands. “Don’t you listen to the news? The economy sucks right now. It would be a terrible idea to try to start a business. Besides, you’re not a businesswoman. You know how much paperwork there is with your own business? The licensing, the taxes—you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
Her chest burned with wounded pride and embarrassment. “Well…but I thought maybe you’d be able to help me. I know I’m not a genius, but between the two of us—”
He laughed, his tone scornful. “Like what, you’d hire me? I’d be your employee? No way I’d want my girlfriend to be my boss.”
Speechless, she ducked her head to hide the tears that brimmed and stood to find something to occupy her in the kitchen. She searched for a retort but all she came up with was, “Well then, never mind I guess.”
He made a noise of frustration and came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, look, I’m sorry. But seriously, you’re better off staying where you are. I’d just hate to see you get disappointed when it didn’t work out.”
Kim sniffed and shrugged him away. “I can’t believe you don’t have more confidence in me. If you had come to me with the same idea, I would have been totally supportive and would have offered to do anything to help you.”
“Kim, I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say, ‘Hey, great idea, let’s go for it!’”
“So you want me to lie? You want me to set you up for failure?”
“How do you know I’d fail?”
He let out a terse laugh. “Look, Kim, the fact that you think this is a good idea shows that you don’t know what you’re talking about. Trust me, it would fail.” He wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her closer despite her resistance. “I’m just looking out for you, Kim. I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
He’s just looking out for me. He cares about me. She soaked up his words, trying to soothe her wounds with his sentiments. He smiled when she allowed herself to relax in his embrace. “But see, this is a great example of why we work so well together. We balance each other out, we’re each strong in different ways. I know more about business stuff than you do, but I’m sure there will be situations in the future where you can help me out.”
He kissed her and she tried to let go of the anger and hurt that were still simmering in her heart. She had to admit he was right—she didn’t have a mind for business. And she could see how it could be weird—for both of them—if she was his boss. Though if we went at it as equal partners…She pushed the thought away. The economy would still be in shambles, like he’d said. Best to just put the whole idea to rest. Get over it, move on, don’t ruin the rest of the evening with pouting.
“Thanks for wanting to take care of me,” she said when they broke their kiss.
“You’re welcome. How could I not? You’re beautiful, you’re sweet, you’re so good to me—taking care of you is the least I could do.”
“I’m not just some rebound girl now, am I? You are fresh from another relationship, you know. I’ve heard stories about these kinds of things.”
“Not on your life.” He tightened his arms around her, kissing her again. “I couldn’t ever leave you. You’re all mine.”
SHAWNEE POPPED HER HEAD INTO DEBBIE’S OFFICE. “A new guest just arrived. Do you have time to process her or should I see if Candice can do it?”
Debbie looked at her watch. “I’ll do it. Get her comfortable and grab a
box lunch for her if she needs it. Let me know when she’s ready.”
Shawnee closed the door behind her and Debbie sagged in her seat. She knew how much was already on Candice’s plate. Hers was no less full, but she had to be careful not to burn out her remaining staff now that Andi was gone. Just don’t let me get burned out either, God.
She picked up another resume from the stack, scanning it for the skill-set she needed for their fund-raising and grant-writing position. It was one of the few parts of running the shelter for which she had no competence, and it wasn’t the kind of job she could divvy up amongst the other staff. It was also one of the most important positions, since it was the one that kept them in business.
The applicant’s resume was lacking in too many areas; she set it on her reject pile and took another with a sigh. There were so many jobless people in Ann Arbor, but none of them had the training she was looking for.
Shawnee returned, handing Debbie the new arrival’s intake form. “She’s not hungry, Deb. She’s ready for you.”
“Thanks Shawnee, I’ll be right there.” She stood and pulled her notebook and a welcome packet from her desk drawer, then said a prayer as she made her way to the green room. Speak to this woman, Lord. Speak through the staff and the other women here. Open her eyes to her worth as your creation and to your existence. Break the cycle of abuse in her life. She grabbed a bottle of water for herself from the kitchen, then walked into the green room and lost her breath.
The young woman couldn’t have been more than twenty, but it wasn’t her age that struck Debbie with such force. It was her face, her eyes, her build—all striking in their resemblance to Gina.
Debbie reached out a hand to her sister’s doppelganger and hoped her shock was not plain on her face. “Hi Stacia, I’m Debbie. Welcome to the shelter.” Stacia shook her hand quickly, then returned her arm to her midsection, holding onto her middle as though her insides might fall out. “I’m so glad you made it here today.” Debbie sat down and opened her water, then took a long drink before meeting again the dull stare of those sapphire eyes.
The Weight of Shadows Page 5