“I bet I have an old protein bar in the Hummer. We can share it as a side dish to the Spam.”
“A feast.” He held out a hand. I took it.
We went back to the cabin.
His cell phone rang three different times in quick succession. Thomas raised his head from my breasts, scrubbed his eyes, wrapped a quilt around his waist, and got to his feet. By the time he found the phone on one of his shelves, I was sitting up with a hand to my head, thinking responsible thoughts.
I have puppies at home, now. They need breakfast. I’d left them so much food and water they couldn’t possibly be hungry, but it was the principle of the thing. I was a mother, now.
“Mitternich,” Thomas said into the phone, frowning. The morning sun poured through the window, washing his bare arms and broad chest in warm, white-gold tones. I lost my train of thought, gazing up at him. He glanced at me. “No, Delta, don’t worry. I know where she is. She’s fine.” As his expression tightened into a grim mask I gathered my scattered clothes. “I’ll bring her,” he said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Tell Ivy to calm down. Tell her I keep my promises. She’ll know what that means.”
I was already on my feet getting dressed as he clicked the phone off. “What’s wrong with Ivy and Cora?”
He looked at me somberly. “Laney’s dead.”
Laney Cranshaw had been beaten to death by a boyfriend outside an Atlanta nightclub. Her battered body lay in Atlanta’s big-city morgue 150 miles and one state line south of the Crossroads. Cora and Ivy, at the tender ages of seven and twelve, were now officially alone in the world. When Thomas and I drove into the yard of Laney’s cottage, Cora was hiding in a closet along with Princess Arianna the cat and Herman the rooster, and Ivy was guarding the closet door. Delta, Pike, Dolores and Benton sipped coffee in the kitchen and looked grim.
“The social worker from Hades is on the way here,” Dolores intoned. “Even Benton doesn’t have the judicial authority to hold her back.”
“I’m trying to think of an excuse for a restraining order,” Benton said.
“She’s from Asheville,” Delta explained. “Been assigned to our area since our local gal transferred six months ago. We’re still waiting for a human to take her place.”
“Stickler for rules,” Pike added grimly.
On an unrelated note, everyone stared at Thomas and me. After all, we’d been found together at the end of Thomas’s cell phone and we’d arrived together in my Hummer. We were rumpled, hollow-eyed, smelled vaguely of vodka, woodsmoke and sex, and Thomas appeared to have been beaten up by me.
“Big night?” Delta whispered. I nodded. Her eyes gleamed.
I followed Thomas down the cottage’s narrow hallway and into the pink bedroom the girls shared. Ivy was planted in front of a closed closet door. My heart twisted at the stark misery in her freckled, pale-brown face.
“Don’t bullshit me,” she said fiercely, glaring up. “We’re going to some shitty foster care home somewhere, aren’t we? No one wants us.”
Thomas dropped to his heels in front of her. “You’re not going anywhere you don’t want to go. You have my word.”
“You’re a guy. They don’t pay attention to guys. You can’t be a foster dad. Not for girls. I know the rules.”
“But I can be,” I said. “Be a foster . . . mom.”
She stared up at me. So did Thomas, pivoting slowly on his heels and gazing up at me with quiet warning. Be careful what you promise.
Did we have a choice? Was I going to let some officious state agent whisk my girls out of my rental cottage? My spine stiffened. I lifted my chin. “Yes, I can be your and Cora’s foster mom. How would you feel about living with me at my house?”
Ivy craned everything—head, neck, black eyebrows—in wary hope. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do want us to live there?”
“Because I like you.”
“You just met us one time, before Christmas, and then you threw up.”
“I didn’t throw up because of you.”
“How’s Cora?” Thomas asked gently.
“She’s hiding in her cave until the monsters go away. I keep telling her they’re never going away.”
“Let us talk to her, please,” I said.
Ivy frowned and chewed her lip, but finally edged aside and opened the closet door. “It’s cool,” she said to Cora. “Thomas and Cathy are here.”
Cora was crouched in the floor, hugging her cat. The rooster perched overhead on the wooden clothes bar. Cora’s face was ashen and streaked with tears. Her lower lip trembled. “The social worker lady won’t let us take Herman and Princess Arianna to a foster home,” she said brokenly. “Herman and Princess Arianna won’t have any place to live. What’ll happen to them?”
I got down on my knees and held out both hands. “You and Ivy come and live with me, and Princess Arianna and Herman can come, too.”
Cora brightened. “Forever?”
Ivy said in a quick, stern tone, “There’s no such thing as ‘forever.’”
I glanced up at her. “Let’s just take things one day at a time. Okay?”
Ivy glowered at me. “You just want to try us on for size, like a pair of curtains you ordered. See if you like how we decorate your house. Then you can return us if we don’t look good. That’s what happened the last time we went to foster care.”
Thomas nudged me with an elbow. Let me talk. “Cathy’s giving you a choice. Maybe you won’t like her.”
“Excuse me?” I said. “I’m very likable.”
“We like you just fine,” Cora whispered, tears sliding down her face. She clutched the cat harder. “Me and Princess Arianna and ...” she glanced upward, “Herman.” Her face crumpled. “Where did Aunt Laney go?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ivy said grimly. “She’s not coming back.”
“But where’d she go? The same place as Mama?”
Ivy pounded a fist on the wall. “I don’t know. Forget about her, all right?”
Cora sobbed. “Why doesn’t anyone stay with us for long?”
“I’ll stay,” I blurted, tears in my throat. “I’ll stay. Forever. I promise. Come and live with me. If you don’t like my house, you can leave. But I won’t leave you.”
Thomas’s face went from quiet disapproval to resigned tenderness. I was making promises on the spur of the moment, on the wings of angels, on the hope of the night past. He knew it. But he couldn’t resist, either. “We’ll take care of you,” he told Cora and Ivy. “I promise.”
Cora bent her head to the cat’s. “We’ll go live with Thomas and Cathy until they get tired of us. Then we’ll find somebody else to love us. I promise.” She stoically clambered from the closet and into my arms, cat and all. Ivy retreated behind a sarcastic shrug. “Whatever. We’ll go for now, at least.”
This was not going to be easy.
Mrs. Ganza, the Child Protective Services worker from Asheville, was a big, flashy, flinty-eyed woman with an affection for rules. She distrusted Thomas and me at first sight. Understandable, considering how we looked when she met us that first day. We immediately followed her to the courthouse in Turtleville for a quick ruling from a family court judge on our foster-care application. Delta stood with us, scowling at Mrs. Ganza on our behalf. Mrs. Ganza could not recall ever having seen one of my movies and said bluntly she only watched nature shows on the Discovery Channel.
“She likes the shows on crocodiles,” Delta whispered. “Reminds her of her family reunions.”
Mrs. Ganza regarded Thomas as if she’d stepped over him on a sidewalk. “What did you say your relationship to Ms. Deen is?” she demanded, arching a gray brow beneath an inverted bowl of gray hair.
“I’m her architect. She’s hired me to renovate her home immediately to make it more suitable for Cora and Ivy. She plans to enlarge and modernize the house.”
I stared up at him in surprise. He nodded.
Mrs. Ganza didn’t seem impres
sed. “What is your personal relationship to Ms. Deen?”
“She rescued me from a life of sin in Tijuana. I was working as a stripper at a tapas bar.”
“If you find this interview amusing, Mr. Mitternich, perhaps I should tell the judge you’re not serious about your role as a father-figure for Cora and Ivy.”
“I’m very serious about that role. But my personal relationship with Ms. Deen is personal.”
She tapped a form on a clipboard. “I don’t place children in foster homes occupied by unmarried couples.”
“I don’t live with Ms. Deen.”
“See that you keep it that way.”
I intervened quickly. “I’d like to have you notarize what Mr. Mitternich just said about enlarging and modernizing my house.”
“Are you making jokes, Ms. Deen?”
“No, I’m making sure Mr. Mitternich installs an indoor bathroom.”
“Add on, not install,” he corrected. “We can make exterior, not interior, changes. Maintain the house’s internal integrity.”
“I want a bathroom inside the house,” I said tightly.
“It’ll be accessible to the original floorplan.”
“That sounds as if you want to build a walkway to the porta ... toilet.” I’d almost said ‘porta-shitter’ in front of Mrs. Ganza. Not a good idea.
Thomas arched a brow. “A Craftsman-style arbor over a walkway to the outside toilet could be nice.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding—”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Gaze interjected loudly, “I need to make a personal assessment of your extremely rustic-sounding domicile, Ms. Deen. You and Mr. Mitternich can continue your argument at your leisure. In the meantime, Cora and Ivy can stay with a dependable married couple. In Asheville.”
“No! Please. We’re only debating details, not the important issues.”
Thomas added quietly, “I apologize, Mrs. Ganza. Believe me when I tell you that Ms. Deen and I will find every way possible to cooperate.”
She snorted. “With each other? Really?”
“You have my word. Cathy?”
“My word, too,” I said, nodding. I darted a look at Thomas. Inside bathroom.
He gazed back without retreat. Walkway.
Mrs. Ganza didn’t notice the silent battle because she was too busy giving me more slit-eyed scrutiny. “Ms. Deen, I’m very familiar with Cora and Ivy’s situation. I’ve been assigned to their case in the past. Personally, I believe they’d be best off with people of their own racial and ethnic mix. White-black-Hispanic.”
“Oh, come on,” Delta interjected. “Those little girls don’t care about skin color or country of national origin. They care about being loved. They need to stay here. With people they’ve come to know and trust.”
“Ethnic and racial diversity aren’t trival concerns.”
Delta slapped her thighs and hooted. “Diversity? Well, shoot, Cathy’s grandma was part Cherokee Indian, so that makes Cathy part-Cherokee. And Thomas, here, why, he’s part-Yankee. He used to be all-Yankee, but I’ve fed him so much Southern soul food he’s gotten diluted.”
“Very, very funny.” Mrs.Ganza resumed glaring at me. “Ms. Deen, do you have any idea what it takes to be a parent? Do you have any idea what these two little girls need? A few years ago, after Ivy was sexually abused, she went through a self-mutilation stage. Have you seen the scars on her stomach? Did you even know that?”
“I ... no. I didn’t.” I slumped a little. When I glanced up at Thomas, his eyes had gone dark. He said slowly, “We don’t know everything about the girls, but we know what’s important. If you take Ivy and Cora away from here they’ll lose their chance at being part of a family and a community. Ivy may never trust anyone again.”
Mrs. Ganza sighed. “She may already be a hopeless case. Cora, on the other hand, is very willing to bond with a loving couple. Perhaps it would be best to separate the girls. Given a structured environment, without Ivy’s negative influence, Cora would progress well and—”
“If you break up those sisters, you’ll burn in hell,” Delta said grimly. “And I’ll light the bonfire.”
Mrs. Ganza gaped at Delta. “Are you threatening me?”
“If the shoe fits, wear it. By the way, what size shoes do you wear on those cloven hooves of yours?”
“Stop!” I ordered. “Mrs. Ganza, I promise you I’ll take good care of Cora and Ivy. If they need outside help, I can afford it. I’m extremely wealthy.”
“And extremely odd, if my sources are correct. From what I hear about your anxiety attacks and reclusive behavior, well, to put it politely, you’re not fit to take responsibility for a pet hamster, much less children.”
“I am perfectly capable of—”
“Assaulting a man with a fire extinguisher. Refusing to drive a car. Trying to hire somebody to dig a moat around your house.”
“That was a joke!”
“And you.” She pointed at Thomas. “An alcoholic with suicidal tendencies.”
Thomas said quietly, “I’ve never harmed myself or anyone else. I’m sober and I plan to stay that way.”
“So you admit you’ve had a problem.”
“I admit that my problem is behind me. I’m healthy and responsibile.”
“Are you sure? Cora and Ivy need a normal home, with foster parents who aren’t distracted by personal problems.” She pointed at me. “I don’t care how rich you are. Do you know how to make a home for children? Can you cook, can you listen to their woes, can you help with homework, can you offer kindness tempered with discipline?”
“Yes! I’ll shower Cora and Ivy with wonderful toys and clothes, and I swear to you, I swear, I won’t inflict my issues on them. I can hire plenty of people to help me. I’ll fly help in from Asheville, if I have to. Trained nannies. By helicopter. Every day.”
“These girls need stability, not a rich, crazy woman who intends to foist them off on paid help choppered in from Asheville like a special forces patrol.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m only trying to tell you I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I’m afraid I can’t accept your reassurances. When I speak with the judge I’ll have to recommend—”
“I’ll not only vouch for Thomas and Cathy,” Delta put in grimly, “I’ll sign whatever papers you want me to sign to share responsibility for the girls.”
“It doesn’t work that way, and, considering your belligerent and threatening nature, you’re hardly an acceptable surrogate.”
“Look, I catered your boss’s family picnic way over in Raleigh last year. Don’t make me call your boss. He loves me and my food. He eats at the café every time he’s in this part of the state. His staff orders my ham biscuits by the dozens. I ship biscuits to your boss and his people at least once a month.”
“He? My ‘boss,’ if by that you mean the head of my department, is a woman. She has no family here. She’s from Michigan.”
Delta craned her head like an angry cat. “I’m talking about the governor.”
Silence. We watched Mrs. Ganza slowly deflate. When she reached the size of a shriveled birthday balloon she hissed in my direction. “These are the conditions, Ms. Deen. You have to get your quirks under control. I don’t want to hear any more rumors about weird behavior.”
“Agreed!”
She jabbed a finger at Thomas. “No drinking. No cohabitating without marriage. And get a haircut. You look like you were attacked with a chainsaw.”
“Agreed.”
“Then I’ll recommend a three-month trial period.” She walked away.
Delta pressed her hands to her heart and gazed at us joyfully. “I’m so proud. You’re a pair, now, a couple. Right when God needed you to step up to the table and make a meal for two children who need you, you’re ready to cook! The Lard cooks in mysterious ways.”
Thomas and I traded a quiet look. We can do this. Yes, we have to try.
“As long as the Lard doesn’t mind cold food,” I said. “And He
lets me have an inside bathroom.”
We buried Laney Cranshaw’s ashes in the cemetery of Crossroads Methodist Church. The minister and church board presented her plot to me in honor of the huge donation Delta had channeled from me to the church some months back. My square space of winter grass on the edge of the graveyard was a short stroll from the plot that contained my grandmother’s body.
“I’m going to move Granny to the farm,” I whispered to Delta during the chilly graveside service. “Where she should have been all along.”
Delta leaned close to me while the minister praised Laney’s good intentions and Cora, crying, held Thomas’s hand. Ivy stood like a grim soldier beside them. Delta bent her ruddy face to my black wool hood and whispered back, “You don’t have to move your grandma. She’s already under your front stepping stones.”
Later, when I recovered from swallowing my tongue, Delta confessed that she and other relatives of Granny’s had quietly ignored my father’s directives and buried my grandmother at the entrance of her beloved home on the ridge.
“According to Delta, Granny Nettie’s right about here,” I told Thomas that evening, as we stared down at several large gray stepping stones between the remnants of the front yard’s gate posts. I pointed to a post. “Right beside the spot where I shot your cell phone. I blasted a cell phone to pieces right over her grave. Granny, I apologize.”
“I doubt she was disturbed,” Thomas said gently. “Unless her long-distance roaming charges kicked in.”
I sat down on the cold earth, laid the palms of my hands on the stepping stones, shut my eyes and bent my head. Please help us make this house a home.
PART SIX
People are like stained glass windows: they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within.
—Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
The really happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery when on a detour.
—Unknown
The Crossroads Cafe Page 33