Читать книгу Blossom Street Bundle - Debbie Macomber - Страница 25

Chapter 20

When the official-looking woman in the no-nonsense suit walked into Blossom Street Books, Anne Marie knew she was the same one who’d called earlier in the day. She’d introduced herself as Evelyn Boyle, a social worker from Washington State Child Protective Services. She’d sounded calm, professional and reassuring; otherwise Anne Marie might have been alarmed. She had the paperwork Dolores Falk had given her before the surgery, and Ellen and Anne Marie spoke with Dolores frequently.

She didn’t understand why a social worker was involved now. In a few days, Dolores would be released from the care facility and Ellen would return to her. If the state was concerned about Ellen, it was too little, too late.

“You must be Ms. Boyle,” Anne Marie said as she stepped around the counter. Thankfully Theresa, who worked Friday afternoons, had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“And you must be Anne Marie.” The social worker came forward and thrust out her hand. “Please call me Evelyn.”

Despite the woman’s tranquil demeanor, Anne Marie was nervous.

“Is there someplace private where we could visit?” Evelyn asked.

“Sure.” Anne Marie momentarily left her and walked over to Theresa, who eyed her speculatively.

“Is everything all right?” Theresa whispered.

“It’s fine,” she whispered back. In slightly louder tones, she added, “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Theresa nodded.

Anne Marie led Evelyn up the narrow stairway to the apartment. Now that Ellen was more comfortable living with Anne Marie, she’d left a pair of rubber boots on the steps. Anne Marie grabbed them on her way up the stairs.

Baxter stood there waiting for her, tail wagging wildly. He cocked his head to one side, as though curious about her unexpected appearance. After she’d paid Baxter the required amount of attention, he sniffed the social worker’s shoes, then returned to his bed in a corner of the kitchen.

Without asking, Anne Marie walked to the stove and put on water for tea. Evelyn pulled out a chair at the table, then set her briefcase on it and withdrew a yellow legal pad.

“How did you know Ellen was staying with me?” Anne Marie asked. She assumed Dolores hadn’t told Social Services, which meant it was either the hospital or someone from Woodrow Wilson Elementary, probably Helen Mayer.

“I received a call from Ellen’s school,” Evelyn said, confirming Anne Marie’s guess as she dug around the bottom of her purse for a pen.

Anne Marie stood with her back to the kitchen counter, hands behind her. “Ellen’s grandmother wrote a statement that gives me full guardianship of Ellen while Dolores is recuperating.” How legally binding that scribbled, almost illegible document was remained uncertain. Considering how desperate the poor woman had been for someone, anyone, to look after Ellen, she would’ve signed the girl’s care over to practically anyone.

“I gather you were originally supposed to have Ellen for only a few days.”

“Yes.” Anne Marie wanted to say more but restrained herself. In instances such as this, the less said the better. “Dolores made me promise Ellen wouldn’t go into a foster home.”

Evelyn Boyle glanced up. “There are many excellent foster homes in this area.”

“I’m sure there are….”

“But in essence, Anne Marie, Ellen is already in one.”

“I’m someone Ellen knows and trusts,” Anne Marie said quickly.

“That’s true. It’s exactly what I mean. You are her foster mother.” Evelyn waited a moment. “I do understand the situation correctly, don’t I? You and Ellen are not related in any way?”

“That’s correct,” she responded. But the question hovered in the air, swirling up doubts and fears.

The teakettle’s whistle offered a welcome respite. Anne Marie concentrated on pouring water into the pot. She covered it with a cozy and set it in the middle of the table to steep while she got two matching cups and saucers.

Her good dishes were packed away in the storage unit, and the apartment cupboard was filled with mismatched place settings. It had never bothered her before, but it did now. Logically she knew that Social Services wouldn’t pull Ellen from her care because her dishes didn’t match. Still, Anne Marie discovered that she didn’t want to take any chances.

She poured two mugs of tea, hating the way her hand trembled.

“I should tell you I stopped by the school before I drove over here.”

Anne Marie couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not. “Did you speak to Ellen?”

“I did,” Evelyn said as she reached for the sugar bowl and added a heaping teaspoon. “She had nothing but wonderful things to say about you. She told me about your visits to her grandmother and how you’ve bought her several pieces of clothing. Have you been to the house recently?”

“Twice,” Anne Marie replied. “Ellen needed some of her stuff, and I told Dolores I’d check on the place for her.”

“Excellent. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

Some of the tension seeped away.

Evelyn raised her cup. “Is it true you taught Ellen to knit?”

“Actually, we sort of taught each other. Ellen’s knitting a scarf for her grandmother and I’ve started a lap robe. The various colors don’t match and Dolores won’t be able to wear one near the other. Mine’s a shade of lavender and Ellen went with a peach and pink combination. It’s really lovely. I mean, who would’ve guessed…well, I suppose that isn’t important.” Anne Marie knew she was rambling and forced herself to stop. And yet, she couldn’t resist bragging about Ellen’s accomplishments.

Pushing back her chair, she hurried into the other room and got Ellen’s scarf, still on the needles. “Look how even her stitches are,” she said, displaying the child’s efforts. “My own aren’t half as neat. Ellen loves to knit and she’s already taught three of her friends. Her teacher was so impressed she thought it might be a good idea for the whole class to learn.”

Evelyn nodded approvingly. “Ellen’s teacher mentioned that to me. She said knitting will help the children with math concepts and learning patience. It’ll also give them a sense of achievement. I think it’s a terrific idea.”

“Really?” Anne Marie couldn’t hold back a smile.

“When I spoke to Ellen, she also told me something about Twenty Wishes. What’s that?”

“Ah…oh, it’s nothing.”

“Not according to Ellen. She has a book she drags to and from school in her backpack.”

Anne Marie didn’t realize Ellen brought it with her. “She does?”

“From what I understand, half the class is making lists as well.”

“Oh…” Anne Marie took a sip of her tea. “A group of my friends and I decided it would be fun, that’s all.” She didn’t want to explain anything beyond that; it was too complicated and too private.

“I love it,” Evelyn said, her enthusiasm unmistakable.

Anne Marie’s gaze shot toward the other woman. “You do?”

“Why, yes. In fact, I immediately started thinking about what I’d put on my own list.”

Anne Marie relaxed a little.

“When I spoke to Ms. Peterski, she said there’s been a marked improvement in Ellen in the last three weeks. Her grades have always been good but she had problems in other areas. Her social skills have vastly improved and she’s making new friends and reaching out to others.”

Anne Marie nodded. Although she had no personal reason to feel such overwhelming pride, it was difficult not to.

“Ellen is happy, too. This arrangement has obviously worked out well,” the social worker said.

“She’s an easy child,” Anne Marie told her. True, it had taken them a few days to find their footing, but they’d adjusted to living together with surprisingly few problems.

“Yes, she’s done very well,” Evelyn murmured.

“Did Ellen tell you she taught Baxter—my dog—to roll over?” Anne Marie asked. Ellen had worked with the dog for weeks and had only recently accomplished that goal.

“As a matter of fact, she did,” Evelyn said with a glance at Baxter, who snored softly in the corner.

“I believe I mentioned that I spoke to the staff at the nursing facility where Dolores Falk is currently residing, didn’t I?” Evelyn continued.

In her nervousness, Anne Marie didn’t recall. “I’m not sure. Dolores tells me she’s recovering nicely. She said she’d be released sometime next week. Wednesday, she thought.”

Ms. Boyle hesitated before responding. “I understand Mrs. Falk is making excellent progress. She confirmed that you and Ellen visit frequently. And she waits every day for that brief telephone chat with her granddaughter.”

“We see Dolores as often as we can.”

“I’m aware of that, and I applaud your conscientiousness.”

“Three to four times a week,” she added. She made the effort to fit those visits into her schedule because she appreciated how important it was for Ellen—and, of course, Dolores.

“Very good.”

“Thank you. I’m doing my best.”

Evelyn sipped her tea. “I can see that, and the proof is in Ellen. Her teacher’s delighted. Ms. Mayer, the school counselor, sang your praises, too.”

This conversation wasn’t nearly as difficult as Anne Marie had feared it would be. She was beginning to relax.

“Getting back to Mrs. Falk…” The words hung in the air like an unanswered question.

“Yes?” Anne Marie put down her cup.

“Did I hear you say she’s going to be released next week?”

“Yes. Ellen and I were by on Wednesday after school and Dolores said she’d talked to one of the nurses about it.”

“I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking on Mrs. Falk’s part,” Evelyn Boyle said.

“What? How do you mean?”

“I spoke with the doctor’s office as well as the head nurse.”

A chill raced down Anne Marie’s spine. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes,” Evelyn assured her. “The healing process is coming along well. But don’t forget she had major heart surgery.”

“Yes, of course.” Fortunately there didn’t seem to be any significant complications.

“However…”

“Are there problems with her recovery?”

“Not exactly problems.”

“What is it, then?”

Mrs. Boyle’s hand lingered on her cup and she ran her index finger along the rim. “Unfortunately it will be some weeks before she’ll be able to return to her own home.”

“Weeks?” Anne Marie repeated. This was a shock and she knew Ellen would be terribly disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”

“How…many weeks?” Anne Marie asked, wondering how she’d explain this to Ellen. “Can you tell me how much longer it’ll be before Dolores can go home?”

“I’m not a physician.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Two weeks.”

“That’s what I was told,” she said. “But you mean an additional two weeks, right?” Anne Marie exhaled slowly.

“Yes. Are you okay with that?”

“Definitely. I’m just afraid this is going to be upsetting for Ellen. The child loves her grandmother very much.”

“I know.”

“Ellen’s been marking off the days until she can move back in with Dolores.”

“I understand this will be a setback for the child. I also understand that it’s far and above what you agreed to when Ellen came to stay with you,” Evelyn said. “If you feel it’s too much, I could probably find a temporary home for Ellen.”

“That would upset her even more,” Anne Marie said, dismissing the offer out of hand. “It was difficult enough for Ellen to be separated from her grandmother. Placing her in another completely foreign environment would be doubly traumatic.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

At least they saw eye to eye on that, Anne Marie thought with relief.

“Then you won’t mind keeping Ellen for another two weeks?”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Any other option wasn’t worth considering.

“In that case, I’d like to leave some forms for you to complete.”

“What kind of forms?” Anne Marie didn’t like the sound of this.

Evelyn Boyle took a sheaf of papers out of her briefcase. “Since Ellen’s been with you for more than two weeks already and is likely

to remain for an additional two, I’d like you to apply for your license.”

“My license for what?”

“To be Ellen’s foster parent,” she said as if this was perfectly logical.

An automatic objection rose in her throat, but Anne Marie bit down on her tongue rather than argue. The best thing to do was to appear compliant. However, she had no intention of becoming a foster parent. What was the point? By the time she finished applying, Ellen would be back with her grandmother and it would be irrelevant.

“Thank you,” Anne Marie said, accepting the papers.

She stood and took the teapot and cups to the sink. “I appreciate your coming by,” she said, since the interview was clearly over.

“My pleasure.”

Baxter got up from his dog bed and walked them to the stairs, as though that was one of his prescribed duties. He stood silently at the top while the two women climbed down.

Anne Marie was saying goodbye to the social worker when she noticed a lone figure in the overstuffed chair, her head drooping, hair half-covering her face. The woman appeared to be asleep. Anne Marie glanced at her again, and suddenly realized who she was.

Her stepdaughter, Melissa Roche.