Bittersweet Summer

by Anne Warren Smith

Dad grinned down at me and squeezed my hand. “That’s her,” he said.

  “Mommy,” Tyler yelled. But she couldn’t hear him; the crowd was too loud. Mom moved to the microphone. “Hi, everybody,” she said, but people kept on cheering. When at last they quieted down, she looked right at us. “I want to say a special hello to my favorite people who are here tonight.”

  I grinned back at her, wanting to jump up on that stage and fly into her arms. I clapped my hands to my cheeks so they wouldn’t burst. Mom nodded to the band members who were standing behind her. She strummed a few chords on her guitar, and when she began to sing, everyone sat very still. Mom’s voice filled me up with happiness and pride. Watching her face as she sang each line was a hundred times better than listening to her CDs. She was singing to everyone, but especially to Dad and Tyler and me.

  I looked up at Dad, but he was smiling at Mom. I looked closer at his eyes. They were shiny like he might be crying. Just then, Tyler stood up on his chair and started to jump.

  “Dad,” I said, but he couldn’t hear me, so I grabbed his hand and pointed at Tyler.

  Dad blinked his eyes and reached for Tyler. “Sit here,” he said, and gathered him into his lap.

  The first half of the concert flew by like a dream. After every song, the people yelled and clapped until my ears hurt.

  “We’ll be back after a short intermission,” Mom said. She waved and blew kisses at the audience. At us. At me! Then she walked off the stage.

  Chapter 19

  Claire’s Terrible News

  MY EARS STILL THUMPED with the sounds of the bass and the guitars as people got up and stretched. We moved along with them to a place where there were tables set up for selling T-shirts and CDs. Claire and Ms. Morgan stood near one of the tables. I showed Dad where I was going and pushed through the crowd.

  Claire grabbed me. “Your mother is so pretty,” she said. “She acts really famous.”

  I nodded and coughed. My voice wasn’t working very well.

  Claire came closer so I could hear her over all the noise. “Do you like my new clothes?” She smoothed her jeans jacket and held up one foot so I could see her blue leather boots. “My favorite thing is this hat,” she said, adjusting it over her blond curls. “It’s so perfect.” She turned in a slow circle in front of me.

  “You look like a cowgirl,” I said.

  “Ms. Morgan said that, too.” She bent close to whisper in my ear. “But something terrible has happened. Ms. Morgan is having a barbecue for all of us tomorrow.”

  “That’s not terrible.”

  “Yes, it is. Tell you later.” Claire pressed her lips together as Ms. Morgan finished paying for her CDs and moved with us away from the table.

  “It’s a wonderful concert,” Ms. Morgan said to me.

  Mr. Plummer came up with plastic bottles of water. “That’s quite a mother you have,” he said. “I’m enjoying this.” He handed Claire and Ms. Morgan their bottles.

  “Where are your dad and Tyler?” Ms. Morgan asked. “Oh, there they are.” Ms. Morgan waved at Dad, who was working his way toward us through the crowd while I wondered what the terrible thing could be. I looked at Claire, but she just shook her head.

  “I’m so glad you found us among all these people,” Ms. Morgan said to Dad. “I want to invite you all to my barbecue. Tomorrow afternoon. Very short notice, but I have a special person coming to visit. I’d like you all to meet him.”

  “See?” Claire pulled me to one side and breathed into my ear. “She . . . has . . . a . . . boyfriend!” She pushed her hands into her jacket pockets and turned away.

  I looked at Ms. Morgan. She would never be Claire’s mother. Or mine. She was taken.

  “We’d love to come,” Dad said to Ms. Morgan. “We’ll need your address.”

  As Dad wrote down her address, she bent close to him. “She is beautiful, Bill,” she said. “Is this hard for you?”

  I watched Dad nod at her. His eyes blinked behind his glasses, and then he looked out over the crowd as he tucked the paper into his pocket.

  Ms. Morgan touched Dad’s hand. “The three of you are a good family, you know. Your children are lucky they have you for a dad.”

  I leaned against Dad, proud of him.

  “Tyler and Katie still miss her a lot,” Dad said. “Seeing her tonight is bitter and sweet for all of us.”

  “Bittersweet,” Ms. Morgan said. “I understand.”

  I moved closer to ask how something could be bitter and sweet all at the same time, but Dad cleared his throat and looked over at Mr. Plummer’s cowboy hat. “Did you and Claire just fly in from Texas?”

  Claire and Mr. Plummer smiled. They both reached up to straighten their hats. “You’re all blue,” Tyler said. “You should have a red jacket like mine.”

  Dad shook his head at Tyler. “That’s not polite.” He turned to Ms. Morgan. “Thanks, Janna, for telling me about that thrift shop. We went there yesterday.”

  “We found a dog,” I said, suddenly remembering.

  “She’s maybe going to be our dog!” Tyler said. “She knows how to smile!”

  “Wow,” Ms. Morgan said. “A dog that smiles. I can’t wait to see her.”

  “Dogs are messy,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “And they leave you-know-what all over the place. Dog hair, too.”

  “She’s pretty sweet,” Dad said. “A yellow lab. The trouble is,” but as he started to tell them we might not be able to get the dog, some bells rang and lights went off and on.

  “That means the second half is starting,” Mr. Plummer said. We turned and moved with all the people who were going back to their seats.

  Mr. Plummer pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Dad. “I printed out some photos of our picnic. These are for you.”

  “Thanks,” Dad said. He hustled us down the aisle, and we sat down, ready to hear Mom sing again.

  I looked up at the microphone she would soon hold in her hand and felt excitement bubble again in my stomach. Mom is so wonderful, I thought. Beside me a man began to clap his hands together. “Roxanne,” he yelled.

  I moved closer to Dad. I wasn’t sure I liked sharing Mom with all these people I didn’t know. Maybe that was what Dad meant by bitter and sweet.

  Chapter 20

  Tyler: Lost!

  I CURLED MY LEGS under me and settled in, but before Mom had finished the first song, Tyler was pulling on my sleeve. “I have to go,” he said, his face wrinkled with worry. “Right now.”

  Dad sighed. “I just took you,” he whispered.

  “I have to go, too,” I said. “I forgot to go at intermission. I’ll take him.”

  “Are you sure you know where?” Dad looked out at the aisle and all the people we would have to crawl past.

  “That building right near the door. It’s easy.” While the audience was clapping for Mom’s song, I led Tyler up the aisle and out the front of the tent. “I’m here, too,” Dad said, coming up behind us. “I’ll wait by the door.”

  “Come on,” I told Tyler as I pulled him toward the women’s end.

  He stopped and twisted the sleeve of his red jacket out of my hand. “I’m going there,” he said, pointing to the men’s door.

  “You can’t. You have to stay with me.” I hustled him into the building and into a stall. I ran into the stall next to his. When I was done, I washed my hands and looked at Tyler’s stall. “I’m going outside so I can hear better. Hurry up.”

  He didn’t answer. A moment later, I leaned against Dad by the door of the big tent and listened to Mom. She was singing the song about the train. From out here, she sounded exactly like her CD.

  “Is Tyler coming?” Dad asked.

  “He’s coming.” I leaned harder against Dad. “What did that mean,” I asked him, “what you said to Ms. Morgan? About bittersweet?”

  He bent close to my ear and spoke softly. “Something that’s bittersweet is happy and sad all at the same time. It means it’s great to see your mom again.”
He stopped and then went on. “But we can also see that her life is different now.”

  “She won’t ever come back.” My voice sounded grown up. And sad. He nodded. “That’s the part that is bitter. She’s done very well, and since we love her, we have to be happy for her. That part is sweet.”

  I leaned harder against Dad. “Tyler thinks she’ll come home with us.”

  “I wish he didn’t miss her so much.” Dad shifted his feet and looked toward the restroom. He took my hand and rubbed it against his chest. “The three of us make a good family.”

  Inside the tent, the crowd clapped and cheered again. The bass player was talking now about some place they had traveled to before Portland.

  Dad smiled down at me. “We three are stuck together, you know.” He looked again at the restrooms. “Go check,” he said. “He’s taking too long.”

  In the ladies’ room, Tyler’s stall was wide open, and no one was there. How had he gotten past us? I ran back outside.

  Dad ran to meet me. “Where is he?”

  “Is there a problem?” a voice asked. It was one of the people who sold CDs.

  “My son,” Dad said, his voice rough. “He’s wearing a red jacket.”

  “I think I saw him go back into the concert,” the man said.

  I took a deep breath. That was it, of course. Dad and I rushed down the aisle. Up by the stage, bunches of people were dancing to the music. They all wore cowboy hats and boots.

  The people who weren’t dancing were clapping and stomping their feet. We stopped at the end of our row, looking down it for Tyler. Our three seats stood empty. “He’s gone,” I shouted over the music and the clapping. “Tyler is gone.”

  I burst into tears as Dad grabbed my hand and rushed back up the aisle. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he said to the people who were dancing in the aisle. The music ended, and people began to cheer and clap.

  I panted, trying to keep up with Dad’s long legs.

  All at once, the clapping around us grew choppy and finally stopped. Someone laughed. Then another person laughed. “Look at that cute kid,” someone said.

  Cute kid?

  Dad stopped running, and I bumped into his back. We both turned to look at the stage. Mom was telling the audience about her next song. Behind her was a little boy wearing a red jacket.

  Chapter 21

  The Biggest Question

  DAD AND I STOOD without breathing, watching Tyler up there on the big stage. Tyler lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the bright lights and walked toward Mom. Still holding the microphone, she turned around to see what everyone else could see.

  “We have a visitor,” the drummer said. He played a drum roll and the crowd laughed.

  “Tyler?” Mom’s voice all at once sounded more like Mom than it had all night.

  Dad took my hand. “Thank God,” he said. “He’s okay.”

  “Should we get him?”

  “In a minute.” Dad hunkered down in the aisle and pulled me close.

  Mom handed her guitar to the bass player and slid the mike into its holder. “Come see me,” she said, her voice softer, but still being picked up by the mikes. She held out her arms.

  Tyler stood still, peeking through his fingers at Mom. “It’s hard to see,” his little voice said. Mom went to him and pulled him into her arms. “I’ve got you now.” She turned to the audience and smiled. The crowd burst into applause.

  “We have to keep the songs coming along,” Mom said to Tyler. “Will you sing one with me?” He stuck his thumb into his mouth and shook his head.

  “Down in the valley,” she sang into the mike, and then she waved to the audience to join in.

  “Valley so low,” the crowd sang.

  In Mom’s arms, Tyler raised his head and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. Of course, he could sing the tucking-into-bed song. “Hang your head over.” Tyler’s voice came through the mike loud and clear. “Hear the wind blow.”

  Dad rubbed his cheeks against his sleeve. Then he blew his nose and grinned a crooked grin at me. “That kid,” he said, shaking his head.

  By the time “Down in the Valley” ended, the people around us were mopping their eyes and blowing their noses. They clapped, and Mom set Tyler down on his feet. She took his hand, and they both bowed. “That’s my boy,” Mom said. The crowd roared.

  She shaded her eyes and looked out. “Is your dad out there? And Katie?”

  Dad and I ran down the aisle to the stage. “Tyler,” Dad said. “Come sit with us now.”

  But Tyler shook his head. “I have to ask Mommy the biggest question,” he said, and once again, the mikes picked up his voice.

  “Not now,” Dad said. “Ask her later.”

  “Mommy,” Tyler said, and his voice rang through the speakers. “You’ve been gone too long. Katie and I want you to come back to live with us. Will you?”

  Katie and I want you to come back to live with us! The words echoed around the big tent. The crowd grew silent. Everyone waited for Mom’s answer.

  She held her hand over her eyes, shading them from the lights. Finally she saw Dad and me and gave us a little wave. She gathered Tyler into her arms and whispered something in his ear.

  He nodded. “I love you, too,” he said.

  She set him on his feet and gave him a gentle push in our direction. Once Dad had lifted him off the stage, she reached for her guitar and moved to the main mike. “This is for every person . . .” she said. Then, she coughed and cleared her throat. “For every person, who for some reason, cannot go back.”

  The band swung into action and suddenly they were playing a familiar song. Mom stepped to the mike, and her voice came out sweet and quiet. “Where is the place where all my dreams start?” she sang. “Where is the home that lives in my heart?”

  Dad picked Tyler up, and a moment later, we were sitting again in our seats.

  Chapter 22

  The Answer

  TYLER CRAWLED INTO DAD’S lap. “I don’t think she’s coming,” he said.

  “It was okay to ask,” Dad said in a husky voice.

  I leaned against Dad’s arm. We were three people stuck together in this huge crowd of people who loved Mom. And Mom? Who did she love?

  I knew the answer to that. She loved Tyler and me and Dad. But she loved being a star more.

  Dad’s arm felt good against mine. I grabbed it and pulled it around me.

  Bittersweet. I knew exactly what that meant.

  Chapter 23

  Pizza with Mom

  MOM DID THE REST of her show—fast songs and slow songs, and songs that everyone sang along with her. At the end, people cheered and yelled until she did two more songs. Finally, she waved good-bye and left the stage. The lights came on. Everyone stood up, and I did, too, blinking and exhausted.

  Dad looked at his watch as we shuffled along with all the people. “Wow. It’s late. She wants us to have supper with her.” He picked up Tyler and took my hand. We moved through the lines of people toward a side door of the tent.

  “Tyler’s not going to eat anything,” I said. His head bounced on Dad’s shoulder; his eyes drooped.

  A man met us at the side door and led us through the fresh, cool air toward a huge black-and-gold RV. “Is this Mom’s?” I shivered. She really was a star.

  Dad knocked on the door. “This is how she lives now that she’s performing so much. It’s more comfortable than finding a motel every night.”

  This is Mom’s real home, I thought. Her house has wheels, but it’s her home just the same.

  Standing at the door was the bass player, looking like somebody’s grandpa. His shoulders drooped, and he looked tired. He waved us inside, where there was a whole living room and a kitchen. “She’s taking off the make-up,” he said in a soft, rough voice.

  “I’ll be right out,” Mom yelled from somewhere down the hall.

  “So here’s the newest member of the band,” the bass player said to Tyler. Tyler raised his head and blinked.

 
Mom came in, wearing a soft green robe and slippers. “Feels so good to get that stuff off my face,” she said. “And those boots off my feet.”

  “See ya later, Roxie,” the bass player said. He went out the door.

  “Oh, he’s gone,” Mom said, “I was going to introduce all of you to him. Guess he figured out who you were.” She reached out to me, and I stepped into her hug. “Did you like the show, honey?”

  “You were great, Mom,” I said, breathing in clouds of perfume, feeling her arms warm around me.

  “Hey there, Tyler,” she said with a grin as Dad handed him over to her. “The big star of my show.”

  “Hi, Mommy,” Tyler said. He wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a wet kiss.

  “I’m sorry that happened, Roxie,” Dad said. “I hope it didn’t mess things up.”

  “It didn’t.” She stopped then. “Well, it changed the timing. But it worked out fine. Right?”

  There was silence before Dad nodded.

  “Right,” he said.

  Mom sat down at a little table that had couches around it. “Pizza is coming.” She patted the couch and smiled as we crowded in. “So tell me,” she said, “what did you really think of the show?”

  “Your voice is better than ever,” Dad said. “You look great, Roxie.”

  She smoothed her hair. “I don’t look too tired? This extra show has been a big problem. We have to be in Spokane tomorrow night. What is that, a six-hour drive?”

  I studied Mom’s face. She didn’t look tired at all. She looked excited.

  She turned to me. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

  “It’s summer vacation,” I said, surprised that she didn’t know. “No school.”

  “We’ll sleep in,” Dad said.

  Tyler wiggled on the couch and leaned against Mom. “Not me,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Dad sighed. “The early riser.”

  Mom made a face. “After a concert, I sleep till noon.” She got up and opened the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?” She set bottled water on the table, along with a couple of Cokes.