Summer on Blossom Street

“Lee’s doing really well,” Casey said, volunteering the information between bites of chips and salsa.



“Will he be out soon?” I was curious to learn why he’d been incarcerated but Evelyn hadn’t told me. Reading between the lines, I guessed it was for vandalism—probably not a f irst offense, either. Casey scooped up more salsa. “He’ll be released this fall. There’s a new program through the state that helps foster kids with college expenses. Lee got his GED while he’s been here and he’s applied to take classes at Highline Community College this September. Oh, and he was really on my case about staying in school. I promised I would—and I will.”



“That’s wonderful.” I nodded vigorously. I wanted her to know how much I approved. “Does Lee have a place to live and a job for when he gets out?”



“That’s the best part. He’s going into a group home and they’ll help him f ind a job. Lee really wants to make it, you know? And I want him to, ’cause when he’s got a real address and everything, I can go live with him.”



“I’m so glad.”



“Only…only that might take a while.” She lowered her head.



“I don’t think he wants to be stuck with his little sister too soon.”



Her eyes dimmed slightly. “I can always hope it works out, though. Right?”



“Right,” I said. I hoped Lee managed to stay on the straight and narrow so Casey could join him in a home of their own.



“He might go in the army. I don’t know if that’s a good idea, but he said he’s considering it.”



In that case, she wouldn’t be able to live with him.



“When’s the last time you saw your brother?” I asked. Casey paused, a chip half buried in the salsa. “I don’t remember. Two years ago, I think. He almost didn’t recognize me.”



“Two years? ”



“We talk on the phone and stuff, but it’s hard….”



“The state couldn’t keep you together?”



She snickered. “They have enough trouble f inding a home for one kid.”



I was completely naive about the foster care program. All I knew was that there was a desperate need for families willing to take in kids.



Our meals arrived, and we dug into our lunch with enthusiasm. To my astonishment Casey spoke nearly nonstop. Alix had been so right; reconnecting her with her brother had broken down a barrier between us. It was as if I’d suddenly become trustworthy in her eyes. For the f irst time since she’d come to stay with us, I heard about her parents.



“My mom and dad divorced when I was too young to remember my dad,” she said.



“What happened to your mom?” I asked when she didn’t immediately continue. I know I’d do whatever it took to make sure I kept Cody with me. My instincts toward our son were no less maternal than if I’d given birth to him myself. His mother, Brad’s ex-wife, drifted in and out of his life whenever the impulse struck her. Janice seemed to undergo periods of guilt, and then she’d want to spend time with Cody every week; after that, a month, sometimes two, would go by and we wouldn’t hear from her. Cody accepted whatever time Janice gave him, and never asked either Brad or me when he’d see his mother again.



“Did she die, Casey?” I asked, since Casey hadn’t replied.



“Forgive me for bringing it up if the subject’s too painful.”



“No,” she said softly, slowly. “It’s okay. She died, but it was…



later.”



She put aside her fork. “Mom got involved with this guy who used to slap her around. Lee tried to step in, but he beat Lee up, too.” She stared down at her plate as she spoke. “Then Martin started hitting me, and my teacher noticed the bruises and called Child Protective Services.”



“And they took you and your brother out of the home?”



Casey nodded. “The state said if Mom wanted to keep her children, Martin had to leave. But Mom loved Martin—and the things he bought her.”



I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You mean your mother chose a man who abused her and her kids?” It was appalling to me—beyond appalling—that any mother would abandon her own children.



“Mom said we should go live with our dad, only no one knew where he was. When the state couldn’t f ind him, Lee and I were put in foster homes.”



“Oh, Casey, I’m so sorry.” I reached across the table and clasped her arm.



“Hey, it’s no big deal.”



She began eating again, but I could tell it was more to get me to move my hand than from any interest in her meal.



“What happened to your mother after you and Lee were out of the house?”



She went rigid, the fork still in her hand. “I don’t know. She died about three years ago. I think it was from drugs. Martin was her supplier.”



“Oh, Casey.”



She shrugged as if it hadn’t affected her one way or the other, but no child could remain untouched by that kind of betrayal. After lunch we drove back home. To my pleasure and surprise Casey wanted to bake cookies. After assembling all the ingredients, I let her work by herself while I folded laundry. Despite a small mishap, in which she set a kitchen towel on f ire taking the cookie sheet out of the oven, she did a good job. As she dealt with the dishes I went into the other room to call Evelyn Boyle. I told her that Brad, Cody and I had talked, and we’d arrived at a consensus—to let Casey stay with us until she’d f inished her summer school program. I could hear the relief in Evelyn’s voice.



“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “Casey’s doing so well with you and Brad.” Evelyn phoned Casey at least once a week. I wasn’t privy to the conversations and assumed the case worker knew better than I did how Casey was adjusting to our family. The f irst real sign of improvement I’d seen had come that afternoon. Apparently we’d made an impact on the girl’s life, and that thrilled me.



While I had Evelyn on the phone, I asked her about Casey’s parents. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe what the girl had said, but I suspected parts of her story were exaggerated. I was shocked to learn that everything Casey had told me was the truth.



“How’d the meeting between Casey and her brother go?”



Evelyn asked.



“Very well. She seemed like a different person afterward.”



“That’s wonderful.” Evelyn’s voice rang with satisfaction.



“You’ve made my day—no, make that my whole week.”



I f igured she had plenty of weeks when nothing at all went right, so I felt especially pleased that I’d contributed to one of her better days.



“Does Casey know she’ll be with you until summer school is out?”



“Not yet.” Brad and I planned to tell her at dinner that night, when the whole family was together.



“I can’t thank you enough,” Evelyn said fervently. I knew she’d been under tremendous pressure and that by volunteering, Brad and I had taken a load off her shoulders. The fact that Casey and Cody were now getting along made the decision easy.



That evening, as we sat around the dinner table, I gave Brad a meaningful look. He winked at me, understanding my signal that he should break the news to Casey.



“So, Casey,” he said as he passed the macaroni salad to Cody.



“I hear you had an exciting afternoon.”



She nodded. “I saw my brother.”



Cody grinned from ear to ear. “Tell her, Dad.”



Casey glanced from one to the other. “Tell me what?”



“Mrs. Boyle asked if you could stay with us until you f inished summer school. Your new foster home is in north Seattle, and rather than move you to another place so far from the school, we thought it’d be best if you stayed here.”



We all waited for Casey’s reaction.



“Okay,” she said.



Okay. That was it?



“Would you like to do that?” Brad asked. Like me, he’d anticipated some sort of reaction—something other than the bland response she’d given us.



“I guess so,” she said. I thought she sounded almost indifferent, and that stung a bit. Somehow Brad and I managed to hide our disappointment until we climbed into bed that night. We both sat up, leaning against a pile of pillows, our books in our hands.



“I thought she’d act a little happier than that,” Brad said. He didn’t need to clarify what—or rather, whom—he was talking about.



“I know, but I think we’re making headway.” Improvement came in small doses. I’d noticed a few days ago that she’d replaced the toilet paper in the hall closet. I wasn’t sure if she still had the soda crackers and the other food. Regardless, Casey was beginning to trust us.



“How do you mean?”



Needless to say, Brad wasn’t around her as much as I was.



“Well, for one thing, she baked cookies this afternoon.” I’d never mentioned the hoarding to him.



“And nearly burned down the house.”



“Brad, be fair. That could’ve happened to anyone.”



He grinned. “I suppose you’re right.”



“She’s not a bad kid, you know.”



“I agree with you. I see glimmers every now and then of the kid she could be.”



I set my book on the nightstand and reached for the lamp beside my bed. As I turned off the light, I whispered, “You’ve been very patient, husband of mine.”



“Patient enough to earn a reward?” he whispered back.



“I’d say so,” I said, raising my eyebrows.



Brad put down his own book and turned off his light. A moment later, I was in my husband’s arms, feeling loved and cherished.



Ah, yes, this had been a good day indeed.



Chapter 16



Phoebe Rylander



“Another f lower delivery for you,” Claudia said when Phoebe returned from her lunchtime walk. These short outings had become part of her everyday routine; they helped revive her and refresh her.



Claudia pointed to a huge f loral arrangement made up entirely of roses. They were stunning, exquisite. Red and white, surrounded by ferns and other delicate greenery in a crystal vase. Phoebe had to hand it to Clark. He never seemed to quit.



“Either take them home yourself or give them away.” She was not letting Clark Snowden back in her life. He could send her a dozen roses every day for the next f ifty years and it wouldn’t shake her determination. Especially after the wonderful time she’d had with Hutch over the Fourth of July weekend. She smiled thinking about their biking adventure in the Skagit Valley. The tulip fields were long past blooming but the countryside was still beautiful. Phoebe couldn’t remember ever having that much fun with anyone. She’d laughed at his silly comments—he didn’t worry about looking foolish—and exchanged views on all kinds of issues, from politics to household ecology. Hutch was completely unpretentious. Unassuming. And honest.



“Before you toss these roses,” Claudia was saying, “you’d better read the card.”