Читать книгу Blossom Street Bundle - Debbie Macomber - Страница 8

Chapter 3

Standing in front of WoodrowWilson Elementary School, Anne Marie took a deep breath. Elise Beaumont had repeatedly encouraged her to become a volunteer and had recommended the Lunch Buddy program. Elise herself was a Lunch Buddy at a different school—her grandson’s—but WoodrowWilson was closer to Blossom Street. She’d sounded so positive about the experience that Anne Marie had felt inspired to make the initial call. Volunteering was now number three on her list of Twenty Wishes, after the red boots and learning to knit.

Lillie had bought her red BMW convertible and despite the problems that first day, she was thrilled with her purchase. Buoyed by that sense of exhilaration, Lillie had decided to look more closely into the financial matters she’d left in the hands of others. She, too, was working on her list, as were Barbie and Elise.

Last week Elise had said she was applying for a part-time job. For the last three years of her husband’s illness, she’d been Maverick’s primary caregiver. Now that her husband was gone, Elise needed some kind of activity to fill her time. Maverick wouldn’t have wanted her to mope uselessly around the house, she insisted.

Although Anne Marie had only met Maverick Beaumont—a professional poker player—once or twice, she felt Elise was right. Maverick was obviously a man of action and he would’ve urged his wife to do something constructive and meaningful with her remaining years. The Lunch Buddy program was a worthwhile start, but Elise had extra time, lots of it, and energy to spare.

Anne Marie wasn’t sure how Robert would react if he were to find out she’d volunteered as a Lunch Buddy—let alone that she’d begun a list of Twenty Wishes. Would he consider it frivolous? Self-involved? Or would he think it was a good idea, a good way of recapturing her enthusiasm for life? They’d been married almost eleven years and there were days Anne Marie felt she’d never really known her husband.

Robert was a private person who kept his feelings hidden from the world and sometimes even from her. When she first told him she wanted a child, Robert had simply left the room. Not until three days later was he willing to discuss the matter. He’d told her that a second family was out of the question; as far as he was concerned, they’d made that decision before their marriage. He was right. She’d agreed there’d be no children. What he didn’t understand or seem capable of acknowledging was that she’d been at a very different point in her life when she’d married him. She’d been too young to realize how intense the desire for a baby would become as the years went on.

Robert said he already had his family, that it was time to think about grandchildren, not more children. She’d agreed to his terms and, according to him, that agreement was binding.

Anne Marie had tried to ignore her yearning for a child. With Robert’s encouragement and support, she’d purchased Blossom Street Books with a small inheritance from her grand-parents’ estate, which she’d invested years before. That hadn’t solved the problem, nor had Baxter, the Yorkie he’d surprised her with one evening. Much as she loved Robert, her bookstore and her dog, her need for a baby was still there, growing until she could no longer ignore it.

She wanted a baby. Robert’s baby. The promise she’d made him had been more than eleven years ago. She’d changed her mind, but he refused to change his. She’d pleaded and cajoled, all to no avail.

To complicate everything, Robert had discussed this personal and private matter with his daughter, who’d naturally sided with her father. That made Anne Marie’s relationship with Melissa—and with Robert—even more difficult.

Melissa had hated Anne Marie from the day she married Robert. Granted, the girl had only been thirteen at the time, but she’d rejected Anne Marie’s overtures in no uncertain terms, and her attitude had become more adamant, more intolerant, with age. His daughter had always been Daddy’s little girl and her resentment toward Anne Marie was unyielding. Melissa had done everything possible to make her feel like an outsider. Anne Marie hadn’t been invited to graduations, birthdays or other family events. Brandon, her stepson, had accepted her from the beginning, and they’d held their own little celebrations. During the first few years, Robert had tried to build a bridge between her and his daughter, but that effort had fallen by the wayside. After a while both she and Robert had given up. His relationship with Melissa had become something completely separate from his marriage.

Still, Anne Marie felt deeply betrayed when her husband took a private matter between the two of them to his daughter. He’d been disloyal to her. Even worse was learning about it from Melissa, who’d taunted Anne Marie with what she knew. That had added humiliation to the pain.

Robert listened stoically as she wept and cried out her fury. Nothing she said seemed to affect him. He listened, his face impassive, and then a few days later, packed a bag and moved out. Just like that.

The shock of it had left Anne Marie reeling for weeks. After a month in which she refused to give him the satisfaction of calling, Robert had briefly returned to the house to suggest a legal separation.

Remaining as unemotional as possible, Anne Marie had agreed. Perhaps living apart would be best while they both considered their options. By then, Anne Marie had been angry. Okay, furious. She’d wondered if Robert had ever really loved her. How selfish, how unfair, how…male of him.

Anne Marie felt it was imperative that Robert know she was serious about a baby. He’d moved out of the house and, following his lead, she’d moved out, too, leaving the place to sit vacant. Fortunately she had the apartment above the bookstore, which had recently become available. She hoped such a drastic action would give Robert notice that she was more than able to support herself—more than capable of living her life without him. In his own fit of defiance, Robert had listed the house, which was in his name. Everyone was surprised when it sold the first week. Anne Marie’s things, whatever she hadn’t moved to the apartment, had been taken to a storage unit. It had all been so petty, so juvenile.

Their separation had become a battle of wills, each of them intent on showing how unnecessary and superfluous the other was. They were clearly destined for the divorce court, until Anne Marie decided enough was enough. After all, this was the man she loved. Despite everything—her disappointment, her anger toward Melissa—her feelings for her husband hadn’t changed. The day she called Robert at the office had been a turning point. She admitted she missed him and was sorry the situation had deteriorated so far. He seemed surprised to hear from her and at the same time delighted. He said he was sorry, too, and they’d agreed to meet for dinner.

The one stipulation was that there be no talk about Anne Marie having a baby. Although she didn’t like it, she’d promised. Dinner was wonderful and Robert had gone out of his way to make the evening as romantic as possible.

Robert Roche could certainly be charming when he put his mind to it, and that night he’d charmed himself right into her bed. Their lovemaking had always been powerful and it felt so wonderful to be with him again. Then, in the morning when she awoke, Anne Marie discovered he’d left during the night. That was like a slap in the face. It would serve him right if she ended up pregnant, she’d thought angrily.

Only she hadn’t.

They’d continued to meet and to talk regularly but that was the last time they’d made love.

Shaking her head, trying to free herself from the memories, Anne Marie realized she’d been standing in front of the elementary school for ten minutes without moving. Making a determined effort, she walked into the building.

She had an appointment with the school counselor, Ms. Helen Mayer, at ten-thirty and she was already five minutes late.

As soon as Anne Marie entered the school, the hallway immediately filled with noisy youngsters, all of them trying to get past her and outside. But for the first time that day, the sun peeked out through dark clouds, and she took that as a favorable sign.

Eventually Anne Marie located the school office, which had a small waiting area, a large counter that stretched across the room and a number of offices behind it.

“May I help you?” the woman at the counter asked.

“I’m Anne Marie Roche. I have an appointment with Ms. Mayer.”

“You’re here for the Lunch Buddy program?”

“That’s right.” Anne Marie nervously brushed her hair away from her face. She wore it straight, shoulder-length, and had dressed in wool slacks and a white turtleneck sweater. Now that she was actually at the office, her uncertainty returned. She wasn’t convinced this was the best project for her, wish list or not. She didn’t know anything about children of elementary-school age, or any age for that matter. Her experience with Melissa hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in her ability to relate to kids.

“Ms. Mayer is meeting with the other volunteers in Room 121,” the woman told her. “There’s an orientation first.”

“Okay,” Anne Marie said with a nod, figuring the orientation would help her decide. “How do I find Room 121?”

“It’s easy. Just go out the way you came in, take a left and follow the hallway to the end.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the secretary mumbled as she turned back to her computer screen.

Mentally repeating the directions, Anne Marie stepped out of the office. For a moment she hesitated, thinking she could just leave now, simply walk out. She didn’t know any young children and couldn’t imagine what they’d want to talk about. But her hesitation was brief. The prospect of confessing to Elise that she hadn’t even tried compelled Anne Marie to go to Room 121.

Two other women and one man were already seated on metal folding chairs at a long conference table. There was a chalkboard behind them. Helen Mayer welcomed her with a gesture toward an empty seat.

“You must be Anne Marie,” she said. “Meet Maggie, Lois and John.”

Anne Marie nodded in the direction of the other volunteers and pulled out a chair. She still felt the urge to make an excuse and walk out. She couldn’t, though. Not without at least going through the orientation.

“I believe that’s everyone,” Helen said, reaching for a piece of chalk. She walked over to the board and wrote each person’s name.

During the next thirty minutes, Anne Marie learned that this was a four-month commitment. She must agree to meet faithfully with her lunch buddy once a week for that period of time.

“Every week?” one of the other women asked.

“Yes, the same day if possible but it’s understandable if you occasionally need to change days. It’s best for the children to have a sense of routine and trust that you’ll be here for them.”

The others all nodded. A little belatedly, Anne Marie did, too.

“Next, we ask that you eat the food from the cafeteria. Lunch Buddy kids get their lunch free, thanks to a government subsidy, but you can buy yours at a minimal charge. If you must bring in food from outside, please check to be sure the child you’re paired with doesn’t have any food allergies.”

That was reasonable, Anne Marie thought.

“After lunch you can let the child take you to his or her classroom. Or you can go outside for recess if you prefer. The idea is to spend the entire lunch period with your assigned child.”

“Do they still jump rope?” Lois asked.

Ms. Mayer nodded. “With the same rhymes we used when I was a girl.”

The women exchanged smiles.

“The important thing is to interact with the child,” the school counselor continued. “Get to know him or her and forge a friendship.”

“What about seeing the child outside school?” This question came from Maggie, who appeared to be in her early fifties.

“That’ll have to be approved by the child’s parent or guardian.”

Anne Marie couldn’t imagine seeing the child other than inside the protected walls of the school. She didn’t want to get emotionally attached. Besides, that wasn’t part of the deal. All that was required was to come in and have lunch with her young charge. If he or she wanted to show off school assignments, fine. But that was the limit of what Anne Marie could handle. She had enough to cope with; she didn’t need to add anything else to the mix. Any relationship with an at-risk child would have to remain casual. Nothing beyond the most basic obligations.

The orientation meeting took the full half hour. Several additional questions were asked, but Anne Marie only half listened. While the others chatted, she struggled, asking herself over and over if this was the right volunteer program. She couldn’t imagine why Elise seemed to think she’d be a perfect Lunch Buddy. Anne Marie didn’t feel perfect. What she felt was…nothing. Nothing at all. Zoned out. Emotionally dead. Disinterested.

Ms. Mayer handed out the assignments, leaving Anne Marie for last. She must have sensed her doubts because she asked, “Do you have any further questions?”

Anne Marie shook her head. “Not really. I’m just wondering if I’m really a good candidate for this.”

“Why not give it a try? I suspect you’ll enjoy it. Almost everyone does.”

The other woman’s reassurance warmed her. “Okay, I will.”

“The child I have in mind for you is named Ellen Falk,” she went on to say. “Ellen is eight years old and in second grade. Because of the Right to Privacy Laws, I’m not allowed to reveal any details about her home background. However, I can tell you that Ellen is currently living with her maternal grandmother.”

“Has she been in this school long?”

“Ellen’s been a student here for the past two years.”

“Okay.”

Before Anne Marie could ask why the school counselor had decided to pair her with this particular child, Helen Mayer continued.“ Ellen is an intense child. Very quiet. Shy. She doesn’t have a lot to say, but don’t let that discourage you.”

“Okay,” Anne Marie said again.

“Talk to her and be patient. She’ll speak to you when she’s ready.”

Oh, great. She’d have to carry the entire conversation for heaven only knew how many weeks. “Is there a reason you decided to match me up with this child?” she asked. Surely there was another one, another little girl who was more personable. Anne Marie wasn’t much of a talker herself these days, and she wasn’t sure that pairing her with an intense, reticent child would work.

“That’s an excellent question,” Helen Mayer said approvingly. “Ellen loves to read, and since you own Blossom Street Books…well, it seemed to be a good fit.”

“Oh.”

“Ellen is one of our top second-grade readers.”

Rather than suggest being paired with a different child, Anne Marie decided to go ahead with this arrangement. “I look forward to meeting her,” she said, wincing inwardly at the lie.

“Ellen has first lunch, which starts in a few minutes, so if you’ll come with me, I’ll introduce you.”

Anne Marie still wasn’t convinced she was ready for this. However, it was now or never. Once she walked out of Room 121, Anne Marie knew that unless she met the child immediately, she wouldn’t be back.

Ms. Mayer led her down the hallway to a row of classrooms, each door marked with the grade and the teacher’s name. Ellen was in Ms. Peterski’s class. Helen Mayer waited until a young woman—obviously Ms. Peterski—and twenty or so children had filed out, thenwalked inside, Anne Mariea fewsteps behind her.

The first thing Anne Marie noticed was how impossibly small the desks were. The second was the child sitting in the far corner all alone. Her head was lowered, and her stick-straight hair fell forward, hiding her eyes.

“Ellen,” the school counselor said, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want you to meet your Lunch Buddy.”

The little girl, dressed in dirty tennis shoes, jeans and a red T-shirt, slid out of her chair and moved toward them, her gaze on the floor.

“Anne Marie, meet Ellen.”

“Hello, Ellen,” Anne Marie said dutifully. She kept her voice soft and modulated.

Ellen didn’t acknowledge the greeting.

After an awkward silence, Ms. Mayer spoke again. “Ellen, would you please escort your guest to the lunchroom?”

In response Ellen nodded and walked quickly out of the room. She stood outside the door until Anne Marie caught up.

“That’s a nice T-shirt you’re wearing,” Anne Marie said, testing the waters. “Red is one of my favorite colors.”

No response.

The noise from the cafeteria grew louder as they made their way down the hall. Ellen joined the other students in the lunch line and Anne Marie stood behind her.

“What’s for lunch today?” Anne Marie asked.

Ellen pointed to one of the students at a nearby table, spooning macaroni and cheese into her mouth. “That.”

At last! The eight-year-old actually had a voice.

The line started to move. “Macaroni and cheese used to be one of my favorite lunches,” Anne Marie said. “Do you like it, too?”

Ellen shrugged.

“What’s your favorite?”

She expected the universal response of pizza. Instead Ellen said, “Chili and corn bread.”

“I like that, too.” Well, she didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t one of Anne Marie’s favorites. Thus far they didn’t seem to have a lot in common.

Their lunch consisted of macaroni and cheese, a gelatin salad, carrot sticks, milk and an oatmeal cookie. Carrying her tray, Anne Marie followed the girl to a table near the back of the room. Ellen chose to sit at the far end, away from the other children.

Anne Marie set her tray across from Ellen, then pulled out her chair and sat down. Ellen bowed her head and folded her hands on her lap for a silent moment before she reached for her silverware. Apparently she was saying grace before eating her lunch.

Anne Marie took a sip of milk once Ellen had taken her first bite. “I understand you like to read,” she said conversationally.

Ellen nodded.

“I own a bookstore. Have you read any of the Harry Potter books?”

Ellen shook her head. “My grandma said they’re too advanced for me. She said I could read them in fourth grade.”

“Your grandmother’s probably right.”

Ellen crunched down on a carrot stick.

“Who’s your favorite author?” Anne Marie asked, encouraged by the girl’s response.

Ellen swallowed. “I like lots of authors.”

Again, this was progress. Of a sort. And the girl didn’t talk with her mouth full, which meant she’d been taught some manners.

“When I was your age, books were my best friends.” Anne Marie could recall reading in her bedroom with the door closed to drown out the sound of her parents arguing.

That comment didn’t warrant a response. Anne Marie took another bite of her lunch as she mentally sorted through potential topics of conversation. It was hard to remember what she’d liked when she was eight. She didn’t think Ellen would be interested in hearing about her widowed friends or her list of Twenty Wishes.

They continued to eat in silence until an idea struck Anne Marie. “Do you like dogs?”

Ellen nodded vigorously.

“I have a dog.”

For the first time since they’d sat at the table, Ellen looked up. “A boy dog or a girl dog?”

“A boy. His name is Baxter.”

“Baxter.” A hint of a smile flashed in her eyes.

Anne Marie felt a surge of relief. She’d hit pay dirt. Ellen liked dogs. “He’s a Yorkshire terrier. Do you know what kind of dog that is?”

Ellen shook her head.

“Baxter is small but he has the heart of a tiger. He’s not afraid of anything.”

Ellen’s eyes brightened.

“Would you like to meet him one day?”

Ellen nodded again. “What color is he?”

“Mostly he’s black but his face is sort of a tan, and he has funny-looking ears that stick straight up.”

“My ears stick out, too,” Ellen said in a solemn voice.

Anne Marie studied the child. She could see the faint outline of Ellen’s ears beneath her straight hair, which hung just below her chin. “I had ears like that when I was your age,” Anne Marie told her. “Then I grew up and my ears stayed the same size and everything else got bigger.”

Ellen took another bite of her macaroni and cheese.

Anne Marie did, too. She finished the lunch period by telling the girl stories about Baxter. Ellen asked dozens of questions and even giggled once.

The other children gradually left the lunchroom, drifting out to the schoolyard. The muted sound of their play could be heard through the windows. Anne Marie looked out several times; when she asked if Ellen wanted to go outside, the youngster declined.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of lunch. Ellen stood.

So did Anne Marie.

Ellen carried her dirty tray to the kitchen and showed Anne Marie where to place it.

“I guess you have to go back to class now,” Anne Marie said.

Ellen nodded. Anne Marie walked her to the classroom door and just as she was about to leave, Ellen whispered something she couldn’t quite hear.

“What did you say?” Anne Marie asked.

Ellen glanced up. “Thank you,” she said more loudly.

“You’re welcome, Ellen. I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

Ellen smiled, then quietly entered the room and walked to her desk.

As Anne Marie watched, her chest constricted with a sensation that felt alien to her. It was a good feeling, though—one that came from reaching out to someone else.

Elise was right; Anne Marie did feel better for volunteering. Little Ellen Falk needed a friend.

The ironic thing was that Anne Marie needed one even more.