Читать книгу Blossom Street Bundle - Debbie Macomber - Страница 35

Chapter 30

“Mom,” Anne Marie said, speaking softly into the receiver. It was late Monday evening, and Ellen had just gone to sleep. The poor kid still wasn’t sleeping well, so Anne Marie didn’t want to risk waking her. Every night since Dolores’s death, Ellen had ended up crawling into bed with Anne Marie and crying herself to sleep. The girl had suffered yet another loss. Being taken out of school, informed that her grandmother was dead and then shuffled off to a foster home hadn’t helped.

“Anne Marie?” her mother murmured. “My goodness, I haven’t heard from you in weeks. Is something wrong? There must be if you’re phoning me this late.”

“I should’ve called earlier.” Handling the funeral arrangements and looking after Ellen had kept her busy. But the truth was, it hadn’t occurred to her to contact her mother until that night.

Even now she hesitated, fearing her mother’s reaction once she learned that Anne Marie was going to adopt Ellen. Her mother had made her disapproval known when she decided to marry Robert. She’d been equally negative when Anne Marie purchased the bookstore. Laura wasn’t a risk-taker and she’d been convinced that Anne Marie would be throwing away her investment. She generally believed in living a cautious, conventional life, although she wouldn’t have put it in those terms.

Despite her mother’s reactions in the past, Anne Marie felt compelled to seek her out. Perhaps it had to do with becoming a mother herself….

Might as well just blurt it out. “I thought I should tell you that you’re about to become a grandmother.”

A strained silence followed her announcement.

“You’re…pregnant?” Once again, Laura Bostwick’s reproach was evident. “I know you want a baby, Anne Marie, but I don’t think you have any idea what life’s really like for a single mother. Oh, dear…”

“It isn’t…I’m not—” Anne Marie didn’t get the opportunity to explain before her mother interrupted her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s the father? No, don’t tell me. Obviously there’s a problem, otherwise you would’ve married him. You aren’t secretly married, are you?”

“No, I—”

“I don’t need to know any more about him. He’s married, I suppose?”

“Mom!”

“Sorry, sorry. I said not to tell me and then like a fool I ask. It’s none of my business. Well, you’re going to have a child. When are you due?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” she began.

“For heaven’s sake, you haven’t done anything stupid, have you?”

“What do you mean?” Anne Marie asked, a little taken aback.

“Artificial insemination, that’s what. I heard about it at the hair-dresser’s. Apparently a lot of women are using artificial methods to get pregnant. Please don’t tell me you went to one of those fertility clinics and—”

“Mother, I’m adopting.”

She’d finally shocked her mother into total silence.

“Remember Ellen Falk?”

“Who?”

“I was her Lunch Buddy. You met her the Saturday before St. Patrick’s Day. We had lunch with you.” Surely her mother hadn’t forgotten.

There was another silence. Then Laura said, “Let me see if I have this straight. This second-grade girl you agreed to have lunch with once a week is the one you’re going to adopt?” Her mother sounded incredulous.

“Yes, Mom. She came to stay with me, remember?”

“Well, yes, and I told you I thought it was rather nervy of that girl’s grandmother to call you in the middle of the night.”

“Dolores Falk died.”

This information appeared to unsettle Laura. “Oh…dear. That is a shame.”

“Ellen doesn’t have anyone else,” Anne Marie said.

“You’re fond of the child?”

“I love her as though I’d given birth to her myself,” Anne Marie confessed. “I’ve already talked to the social worker and asked to be considered as Ellen’s adoptive mother.” She closed her eyes, certain her mother would discourage her, as she had with every important decision Anne Marie had ever made, from the school she’d chosen to the man she’d married.

“Oh, Anne Marie…”

She waited for it.

“I think that’s a wonderful thing to do.”

Her jaw fell so fast and hard, Anne Marie was surprised she hadn’t dislocated it. “You…think I’m doing the right thing?”

“My dear girl, you’re old enough to decide what you want to do with your own life. If this child means so much to you, then by all means bring her into the family.”

As far as Anne Marie could remember, this was the first time in her adult life that her mother had supported her choices. She didn’t understand it, other than to assume the child had won over her mother’s heart in the hour or two they’d spent together.

“There won’t be any legal problems, will there?” Laura went on to ask.

“I don’t know.” Evelyn Boyle had to do a search for Ellen’s birth certificate and find out who was listed as the father. He would need to be contacted and given the opportunity to state his wishes.

Anne Marie was pretty sure Ellen’s biological father didn’t even know she existed. But if Evelyn managed to track him down… He could decide to declare his parental rights and Anne Marie would have no option but to relinquish Ellen. The thought made her feel ill.

“What about her biological mother?”

“She gave up all rights to her daughter three years ago when Ellen went to live with her grandmother.”

“Does that mean the mother can’t change her mind?”

“It’s too late for that. Anyway, if it wasn’t for Dolores, Ellen might’ve been put up for adoption years ago.”

“Oh.”

“The social worker was encouraging.” The fact that Ellen was living with Anne Marie and that they’d so obviously bonded was a hopeful sign. However, the issue of Ellen’s biological father still had to be resolved.

Anne Marie suddenly remembered something. “The wishes.”

“I beg your pardon?” her mother said. “Stop mumbling, Anne Marie. How many times do I have to tell you? Speak up.”

“Sorry, Mom. I was just thinking out loud.”

“What was that about wishes? That’s what you said, isn’t it? It certainly sounded like wishes.”

“Ellen has a list of wishes. Twenty wishes.” Anne Marie had no intention of referring to her own list or those of the other widows. Her mother would no doubt throw scorn on the idea or dismiss it as childish.

“Children do that sort of thing,” her mother said, confirming her suspicion. “I wouldn’t give it any mind. I suppose she wished for a mother and father?”

“No, no…nothing like that.” Then, because she felt she had to explain after bringing it up, she said, “Ellen wants to meet her father.”

“Every child wants that. My guess is she’s well rid of him.”

The rest of the conversation made no impact on Anne Marie. A few minutes after she ended the call, she wandered into Ellen’s tiny bedroom and watched the child as she slept, one hand flung out and resting on the dog, who was cuddled up close beside her. The poor kid was exhausted and seemed to be lost in her dreams.

Earlier, in between working at the store and looking after Ellen, Anne Marie had called the school. She’d updated Helen Mayer, who’d cheered when Anne Marie told her about adopting Ellen. She’d even offered a character reference should any be needed in the adoption process.

Anne Marie was just afraid the proceedings might not get that far.

On Saturday morning, three days after Dolores’s death, they’d visited the funeral home and arranged for a small private service. A short obituary written by Anne Marie appeared in the paper. Several neighbors stopped by on Sunday to pay their respects.

The house was a rental property and Anne Marie had until the end of the month to get it cleaned out and ready for the next tenants.

That afternoon, with a few friends gathered around, Anne Marie and Ellen had laid Dolores Falk to rest. Throughout the service, Ellen stayed by Anne Marie’s side. She didn’t weep, although her eyes filled with tears more than once. Afterward, they’d returned to the apartment alone.

“I think Grandma Dolores was ready to live with Jesus,” Ellen had said calmly as she reached for her knitting bag. She seemed to find solace in knitting.

“What makes you say that?”

She’d glanced up. “I saw it in her eyes. She told me she was tired.”

Anne Marie had thought her heart would break.

Late Tuesday afternoon, Anne Marie and Ellen were in the apartment, planning a visit to Dolores’s house to sort out what to keep and what to give away, when the phone rang. It was Cathy in the bookstore. “The social worker’s here to talk to you. Should I send her up?”

“Yes, please.” Evelyn Boyle had said she’d hoped to attend the memorial service the previous day; she’d also said she had a court date and wasn’t sure how long that would last.

Anne Marie waited anxiously for her at the top of the stairs.

“How did everything go yesterday?” Evelyn asked, taking the steps one by one.

“It was very nice.” Several of Dolores’s neighbors had attended, and Helen Mayer from the school had been there, too, along with Lydia, Elise and Lillie. Dolores had requested that her remains be cremated; Anne Marie and Ellen would receive the ashes at a later date.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Anne Marie bit her lip until it hurt. “Do you have news?”

“I do.” The middle-aged woman paused on the landing and placed her hand over her heart. “Stairs are God’s way of telling me I’m not getting any younger.”

Anne Marie resisted the urge to shake her by the shoulders and demand to know what she’d learned. “Come in, please,” she invited, doing her best to disguise her nervousness.

The social worker stepped into the kitchen. Ellen sat at the table knitting, with Anne Marie’s notes for the disbursement of Dolores’s belongings scattered about. “My goodness,” Evelyn murmured, “who taught you to knit so well?”

“Anne Marie,” Ellen said without looking up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Boyle, but I can’t talk now. I’m counting stitches.”

“Perhaps you could move into the living room so Ms. Boyle and I can chat. Okay?” Anne Marie said.

“Okay.” With the ball of yarn under her arm, Ellen carried her wool and needles into the other room and, Anne Marie hoped, out of earshot.

Evelyn Boyle pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down as Anne Marie gathered up her notes and put them in a loose pile. Evelyn placed her briefcase on the table and opened it, then ceremoniously removed Ellen’s file.

Anne Marie sat across from her. Waiting…

“I located a copy of Ellen’s birth certificate and the father is listed—”

Anne Marie’s heart slammed hard against her ribs. She hadn’t expected this. “You have a name?” Okay, she’d deal with it. No matter what, Anne Marie would find a way to be part of Ellen’s life and she didn’t care what it cost.

Evelyn frowned. “If I’d been allowed to finish, you would’ve heard me say that Ellen’s father is listed as unknown.”

“That means…” Anne Marie was too excited to complete the question.

“It means that as far as the State of Washington is concerned, you’re free to adopt Ellen Falk.”

“Thank you,” Anne Marie whispered, her throat thickening with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

“Have you said anything to Ellen?”

Anne Marie hadn’t felt she could until she had all the facts. “Not yet.”

“Then let’s tell her now.” The social worker called out to the eight-year-old. “Ellen, would you please join us in the kitchen?”

Ellen immediately came inside and sat down in the chair next to Anne Marie.

“Hello, Ellen.”

The child regarded the social worker suspiciously. Anne Marie didn’t blame her; it was Evelyn Boyle who’d taken her out of class and uprooted her entire life with the news of her grandmother’s death.

Hoping to reassure Ellen, Anne Marie leaned over and gently touched her arm.

“What would you think if Anne Marie became your mother?” Evelyn asked. “Would you like that?”

Ellen didn’t answer right away. Then she turned and looked at Anne Marie. “Would I call you Mom?”

“If you wanted,” Anne Marie said. “Or you could call me Anne Marie. Whatever you prefer.”

“Could I have play dates with my friend Cassie if you were my mom?”

“Yes, of course.” Anne Marie remembered the day of the school concert, when she’d been approached by the mother of Ellen’s friend about a possible exchange of play dates.

Ellen looked from Anne Marie to the social worker. “Would it mean no one could ever take me away again?”

“No one, not ever,” Anne Marie promised.

Ellen shrugged. “I guess it would be all right.”

“You guess?” Anne Marie teased. “You guess?”

Ellen’s face lit up with a huge smile. “I’d like it a whole lot.”

“I would, too,” Anne Marie told her.

Ellen bounded out of her chair and threw her arms around Anne Marie’s neck.

“Wonderful,” Evelyn Boyle whispered. “This is just perfect. It’s cases like this that make everything else worthwhile.” She opened the file again. “I have all the paperwork with me. Be warned, though, the process will take about six months.”

Anne Marie didn’t care how long it took. The paperwork was a mere formality.

She already had her daughter, and Ellen had her mother.

Nothing would ever come between them again.