Save the Last Dance

by Save the Last Dance (epub)

  “Do you like chocolate chip cookies, Jeremy?” she asked as she pulled out the sugar.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Didn’t everyone?

  She looked pleased. “I was hoping you would say that. I knew Gunnar wouldn’t have any chips so I brought a bag with me.”

  “You travel with chocolate chips?”

  “Only on special occasions.”

  Gunnar was at the cupboard. “Want a glass of water, Jeremy? You might as well have a seat too. My mother is going to want to chat while she bakes.”

  “Gunnar, I swear sometimes you make me sound crazy. All I’m doing is trying to get to know Jeremy here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Jeremy hopped on one of the barstools that lines the island and watched Mrs. Law pull out ingredients he had no idea were in the cupboards.

  Gunnar handed him a glass of water, then curved a hand around Jeremy’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go take a shower. You keep my mom company, okay?”

  He was getting left alone with her? “All right.”

  “Take it easy on Jeremy, Mama. He’s new to you and to be honest, he’s looking a little afraid.”

  Mrs. Law turned to face him. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.”

  Her slight frown turned into a bright smile again. “See, Jeremy’s going to be just fine. Go shower, Son. When you get out, we’ll discuss dinner and my first dance class.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  After he disappeared down the hall, Mrs. Law chuckled. “Jeremy, that Gunnar is kind of a pistol.”

  This was news to him. “He is?”

  “Oh, yes. He always says yes, ma’am, sweet as you please, then darts off and does his own thing. You should remember that.”

  “I will.”

  She pulled out an electric mixer, started beating butter and brown sugar and some eggs. Jeremy watched. His mother hadn’t really been around much and she hadn’t been one for cooking. But sitting here, sipping water, he was thinking that simply watching Gunnar’s mom wasn’t too bad. “Do you always start cooking the minute you get here?”

  “No, dear. I just . . . well, I like to be busy sometimes. And I’ve been looking forward to baking you cookies since I woke up this morning.”

  “Oh. That’s, um, real nice of you.”

  After she poured in the flour and a couple of teaspoons of some other stuff, she opened up the bag of chocolate chips. Then her voice softened. “Gunnar told me that you’ve had a time of it.”

  “Yeah.” His dad had never been around and his mother had never been around all that much either, and then she’d died. And then had come the series of foster homes. None of them had been horrible, but until Gunnar, he’d never really been too happy with any of them.

  After putting a cookie sheet in the oven, she poured herself a cup of coffee that he hadn’t even realized she’d brewed. “Do you drink coffee?”

  “Not really.”

  “That’s probably good. It’s my vice. I love it.” When she sat down next to him, she said, “So, Gunnar was one of four kids. I had them all close together and sometimes felt like I was a cop on crowd control instead of their mother. My husband, you see, was always working so the kids would have shoes and such. Then, when he was around, he was a softie. Those kids could get away with murder.”

  Jeremy grinned. “Gunnar too?”

  “Gunnar . . . Gunnar was number three out of four. I don’t know how he managed it, but he became the most easygoing of them all. My eldest, Martin?” She waved a hand. “He loved getting his way. Still does, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Who’s second?”

  “Darcy. Darcy was our star pupil. We never had a lick of trouble with her. Now, she’s a physician’s assistant and is married out in Denver. She already has two kids and a nanny.”

  “Wow.” He’d never met anyone who had a nanny.

  “I know! I told her that she was acting pretty fancy for a girl from Spartan, but she told me to stop my fussing.”

  “Then there is Gunnar.”

  “Yep, and you know all about him. He’s as steady as can be.” She sighed. “And then there’s Andrew.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Oh, nothing much.”

  “Much?” That didn’t sound too good.

  “Don’t fret, child. He’s fine. He just doesn’t want to grow up. One day, though . . .”

  “Don’t listen to my mom,” Gunnar said as he joined them, now clad in a thick pair of black fleece sweatpants and an old T-shirt. “Andrew is a sergeant in the Army and is stationed out in Colorado Springs. I promise, he’s plenty grown up.”

  “He’s far from home. But every time I say that, he says that he could be farther.” She walked to the oven, slipped on a mitt, and pulled out a tray of perfectly baked cookies. Looking pleased, she glanced his way. “Do you like warm cookies, child?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. I’ll get you a plate and a glass of milk.” She gave him a hard look. “Don’t fuss about drinking milk.”

  “I won’t.” If Gunnar hadn’t been there, he would have told her that Gunnar made him drink milk too.

  As he watched Mrs. Law do just what she said, Gunnar poured himself a cup of coffee too.

  “Sounds like Mom has been filling you in on everyone.”

  “Yep.”

  “I hope she told you the truth. How I’m the best of the lot.”

  “She said you were steady.”

  Gunnar didn’t look too impressed. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

  “Oh, stop. I gave you a compliment, and you know it. I’m real proud of you. Always have been, but don’t you go tell the other kids that I said that,” Mrs. Law said as she handed Jeremy a plate of five cookies.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Now, what do y’all think about chicken and rice casserole?”

  “It sounds good, but we should probably have it another time. It’s already getting late and I don’t want to run to the grocery store. The boy needs to eat soon.”

  “It’s already made. I’ll pop it in the oven. Okay?”

  Jeremy gaped at her. “You came with casseroles and chocolate chips?”

  “She’s kind of like Mary Poppins that way, Jeremy. It’s easiest if you just kind of go with the flow.”

  “I can do that.” Popping a second warm cookie in his mouth, he was kind of thinking that he’d put up with a lot of Mrs. Law craziness for food like that.

  Gunnar laughed. “I thought I’d keep her culinary skills a surprise for you. She’s a great cook.”

  Mrs. Law shook her head. “You make it sound like I’m doing something special. I’m not. Well, not for most people.”

  “I never got the hang of cooking,” Gunnar supplied.

  “How that can be, I don’t know. You can rebuild an engine but you can’t seem to follow the most basic directions in a cookbook.”

  “It’s harder than it looks.”

  “Jeremy, do you see what I have to put up with? Now, I not only have to find a good woman for Gunnar, but one who can cook too.”

  “I don’t know if Kimber cooks, Gunnar,” he said before he realized that he probably should have kept his mouth shut.

  Because Mrs. Law zeroed in on Gunnar like Jeremy didn’t even exist. “Kimber?”

  Gunnar’s expression became a blank slate. “We don’t need to talk about Kimber right now.”

  “Sure, we do. You know there’s no time like the present.” She looked at the clock. “We’ve got thirty-five minutes before supper is ready.”

  “Because I don’t want to be grilled before you’ve even gotten settled in your room. Don’t you want to go do that?”

  “Not especially.” Turning to Jeremy again, she said, “I guess you’ve met this woman?”

  He stuf
fed a cookie into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk. But he went ahead and nodded.

  “You’ve already brought her around the boy? It must be real serious.”

  “For your information, Jeremy met Kimber before me.”

  Mrs. Law looked his way. “How did that happen? Is this Kimber the mother of one of your friends?”

  “No. She’s a volunteer at the elementary school library. I’m doing my community service credits there.”

  She smiled at him encouragingly. “And you liked her so much that you introduced her to Gunnar?”

  Feeling like he’d just swallowed a truth serum, he kept talking. “Um, not exactly. Kimber had car trouble one day after school. When Gunnar came to pick me up, he noticed that she needed some help. He helped her get a tow.”

  “That was nice of you boys.”

  “It was a little more involved than that, Ma,” Gunnar said. “In any case, we’re seeing each other a little bit, but it’s nothing serious yet.”

  “She must be sweet if she’s a volunteer librarian.”

  “She . . . is.”

  “Is she pretty? And I’m only asking because I’m curious. But we both know that looks aren’t everything, boy. Do you remember me telling you that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” But he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching.

  “You know what? I shouldn’t have even asked. I’m sure she’s real nice, no matter what she looks like.

  Jeremy couldn’t help it, he started laughing.

  Mrs. Law raised her eyebrows. “Jeremy, what is so amusing?”

  “Nothing, Mrs. Law.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I not only raised four children, I can spot a lie a mile away. Try answering me again, if you please.”

  “It’s nothing . . . except that she’s a model.”

  “Say again?”

  “Kimber’s a model,” Gunnar said. “She’s flat-out gorgeous . . . and she’s famous .”

  “How famous?”

  “Famous enough to be on the cover of more than one magazine.”

  She turned back to him. “Jeremy, is he pulling my leg?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Jeremy watched as Mrs. Law blinked. Blinked again. Then looked right at her son. “And she’s dating you?”

  Then, he couldn’t help it. He started laughing so loud, the noise felt like it filled the whole house.

  But to his surprise, Gunnar just walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder and laughed too.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveler, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home.”

  —charles dickens, “the pickwick papers”

  He was going to do it. At least, Bethany was pretty sure he was. Ever since he’d first offered to walk her home, she’d been sure that Jeremy was going to ask her to the Christmas dance. She’d been listening intently, ready to hear what he had to say.

  But so far, he hadn’t said much of anything.

  All he’d done was talk about how much he had eaten at lunch.

  And about the weather. Jeremy had talked for almost five full minutes about how it was really cold and supposed to snow again. She hadn’t known what she was supposed to say to that.

  When Jeremy had finally taken a breath, he groaned. “So I guess I’ve been sounding like an idiot for the last ten minutes, huh?”

  “Not an idiot.” Not exactly . . .

  He ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Only like a guy who eats a lot and watches the weather channel obsessively?”

  She giggled. “Maybe. But it’s okay if that’s what you like to do.”

  “It isn’t.”

  He looked so aggravated with himself, she teased him a little bit. “Are you sure? Because it’s okay if you are fixated on weather patterns.”

  “I’m positive. I promise, I’m a lot more interesting than that.” He winced. “But there’s nothing wrong with it. You know . . . if you like watching the Weather Channel.”

  “Actually, I’ve never watched that channel, Jeremy.” She barely stopped herself from giggling when he slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned.

  “Sorry. I promise I don’t usually talk about the weather.” He frowned. “Or food.”

  “What do you usually talk about?”

  He winced. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Nothing all that important, I guess.”

  She let that sink in as they walked a little more. He was making her nervous.

  Actually, Bethany was starting to wonder if she even wanted to go to the dance with him. What if Jeremy acted weird and awkward the whole time? What if he only talked about weather and food to all of her friends?

  She could totally see how they would react to that too. They’d egg him on and then share glances when they didn’t think he was looking. But of course he would notice, and then it would be awful. By the end of the night, everyone would be making fun of him.

  And, maybe of her, too, because she was his date. Though it made her feel shallow, Bethany was old enough to realize that she wouldn’t care too much if people made fun of her if she believed in Jeremy and what he was about. But so far, she didn’t know him all that well. She only had a hunch that there was something about him that she really liked.

  But that wasn’t enough.

  Thinking that maybe she needed to take over the conversation, she decided to go big. “Hey, Jeremy?”

  He cast her a sideways look. “Yeah?”

  “Hey, can I ask you something that’s kind of serious? You don’t need to answer if you don’t want.”

  He looked relieved that she was taking charge. “You can ask me anything. Promise.”

  “All right. Um, what’s going to happen to you next year? Will you still live here in Bridgeport?”

  His eyes clouded. “I think so. I mean, Gunnar is going to adopt me.”

  That seemed really good, but maybe it wasn’t? “You don’t seem that happy. What’s wrong? Do you not want him to adopt you?”

  “I do. I get a choice. The social workers and the judge and everyone makes sure of that. And there’s nothing wrong with Gunnar. He’s great.”

  “Oh.”

  He sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, to be honest. My parents weren’t great. My father was never around, and my mother was nice enough, but she wasn’t exactly what you’d call hands-on. Then she got shot at an ATM.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “It was bad. She’d left me home alone, so when the police came to tell me, it was hard.” He took a deep breath. “But even though my mother wasn’t like some TV mom or anything, she tried her best. Now, sometimes I feel like . . . if I get adopted, it will mean that I’m getting rid of all traces of her.”

  Bethany nodded.

  “Some days I think that maybe she doesn’t deserve that, you know?” Before she could answer, he shook his head again. “Forget it. I know I’m not making any sense.”

  “You are. I don’t think what you’re saying is wrong, Jeremy. I never thought about getting adopted from that perspective.”

  “I hadn’t either until a couple of nights ago.” He looked down at his feet, then said, “Before I was at Gunnar’s house, I was with another couple of foster families. Some were fine, but there was one couple that was really special. The Robinsons were great.”

  “They were nice?”

  “Yeah. But they were older, in their fifties. They were some kind of super foster family—they’ve been taking in kids for years. I went there right after my mom was murdered, so I was kind of a wreck.”

  She couldn’t even imagine losing both her parents suddenly then bei
ng forced to live with strangers. “How long were you there?”

  “Six months. That was their limit, I guess.” He sighed. “They did a lot for me and got me through a lot of sleepless nights and a couple of bad moments when I was freaking out.”

  “Freaking out?”

  “I kept saying stuff like ‘Why me?’ and then getting mad because there wasn’t an answer.”

  “I would’ve been thinking the same things. I mean, how could you not?”

  “A couple of days before I was due to leave, another kid showed up. A kid a few years younger than me. He was nine or ten.” Jeremy’s voice lowered. “He’d been forcibly removed from his house.”

  “Because his parents were abusive?”

  “Yeah. They’d screwed him up bad.” He stared at her. “But it had happened years ago, Bethany. He’d been floating around from home to home, pretty much acting up and being a little, uh, jerk. He came to the Robinsons’ as kind of a last resort.”

  “Wow.”

  “After being around him an hour, I kept my distance. The kid was twisted. But then one night after dinner, Mr. Robinson knocked on my door and asked to talk to me for a minute.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me how they felt that God meant for them to foster kids and not adopt them. But if things were different they would want to adopt me.”

  “Wow.” Feeling like she was about to cry, Bethany attempted to control herself. But, it was hard, because she felt like that had been a cruel thing for them to say. None of what had happened was Jeremy’s fault.

  Jeremy smiled. “Hey, it’s okay, Bethany. You look like you’re about to go hit someone.”

  “But weren’t you upset? I mean, it sounds like kind of a mean thing to say.”

  “I was kind of bummed, but what Mr. Robinson said next mattered more. He said something like it’s a waste of time wondering why things happen. That there’s nothing you can do about the past, only the future. He said that I was lucky because I lived most of my life with a decent woman and they’d heard that the couple I was getting sent to live with next was decent too.”