More Than Words: Stories of Courage Page 21

  “She probably cheated her way out of a couple, which is why she’s being educated with the huddled masses now,” Tracy said with venom.

  “Meow.”

  She punched him lightly. “What are we going to do?”

  “You mean punish the kid even more? I’m against it.”

  “No, the school’s taken care of that. I meant, what are we going to do to make her feel better about herself so she doesn’t have to lie to make friends?”

  “Short of vaulting her through time until she’s twenty-one?”

  “Short of that.”

  “Spend more time with her. We had so much fun that weekend in Alsea. I think about it a lot. We came home and went right back to being too busy. We sit down at dinner together, but that’s about it. She’s not getting much from us.”

  Tracy felt a little thrill of excitement. Graham sounded as lonely, as isolated, as she felt. They had begun making concessions in their schedule for Molly. Now suddenly those concessions weren’t enough. She wanted more of Graham and less of her job. She wanted more of Molly, too. She loved having a career—that was never going to change—but she wanted more than work from her life.

  “If we go to your folks’ house for Thanksgiving, we’ll hardly even see Molly,” Graham said. “She’ll be swallowed up by the thundering herd. Let’s go back to Alsea. Just the three of us. We’ll see your family at Christmas, instead. If my folks come to visit, we’ll just take them along. Tell your mother why and she’ll understand.”

  Tracy realized she hadn’t been looking forward to the trip to Washington next week. She adored her family, but Graham and now Molly were her priorities. This felt new, even though she and Graham had been married for a decade. They were finding their way back to each other after drifting apart an inch at a time.

  “Who’s going to cook?” she asked.

  Obviously realizing the answer to that question determined his future, Graham held up one hand as if swearing an oath. “All of us.”

  “Then I’m in,” Tracy said. “But only if you agree not to take any work along. Just the three of us relaxing for four full days. Deal?”

  He sealed the bargain with a kiss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The day before Thanksgiving, Janet brought Molly home from an afternoon of baby-sitting. Janet had promised to drive her if Tracy would let Molly stay longer than usual while she made preparations for the next day’s dinner. Janet was entertaining all relatives west of the Rockies, and she was in panic mode.

  Molly said hello to Tracy, then scooted through the house to her room. The door shut and seconds later the music went on. Tracy smiled at her friend. “You need a cup of tea. Sit. I’ll get it for you.”

  Janet did just that, perching on a stool at the kitchen island as Tracy put the kettle on. She looked absolutely exhausted. “I don’t know what I would have done without Molly today. I got the pies baked and the casseroles made.”

  “I hope other people are bringing things tomorrow. If they aren’t, there’s a problem in your planning.”

  “Everyone’s bringing something, and my sister’s bringing the turkey. I just wanted to finish all my cooking so I could spend tomorrow morning setting up. That’ll take three times as long as it should since all the children will be helping.”

  Tracy made a face. “Sounds like fun.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to come?”

  “I appreciate the invitation, but we’re looking forward to going out to the country, just the three of us. Graham’s going to smoke a turkey. Molly’s going to make a pumpkin cake—she doesn’t like pumpkin pie. I’m making my mother’s sausage and apple stuffing, minus the sausage, and lots of sweet potatoes with marshmallows. We had a family vote on the menu.” Belatedly, Tracy realized what she’d said.

  Janet noticed it, too. “Molly’s starting to feel like family, isn’t she?”

  “That’s a loaded question.”

  As if to fill in the resulting blank space in the conversation, the volume from Molly’s bedroom went up an audible notch.

  “How do you stand that?” Janet asked, putting her hands over her ears.

  Tracy checked the hot water. “I like it. The house was pretty quiet before she got here. And you’d better get used to it, kiddo. With five kids it will be twice as noisy once they’re teenagers. Dueling stereos.”

  Taking pity on her friend, Tracy went down the hall to ask Molly to turn the volume down a notch. When she returned, Janet was leaning on the island, head in hands.

  “Hey, you really need that cup of tea, don’t you?” Tracy gave Janet’s back a brief rub as she passed.

  “I’m just having one of those moments of self-doubt,” Janet said. “Ever have them?”

  “At least ten times a day. What gives?”

  “I’m trying to remember why I wanted five kids.”

  “Bad day with the tribe?”

  “No. I love them to death. I love every little thing they do.”

  “So?” Tracy poured the boiling water into a sleek black teapot and pulled two matching cups from the cupboard.

  “I don’t think I’m going to like them as much when they’re teenagers.” Janet lifted her head. “Convince me.”

  “Teenagers are great.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Janet, you don’t want kids who cling to you the rest of your life. Teenagers are fun to talk to. They finally have interesting things to say. They experiment with clothes and hair, and it’s great to watch. You’re the original earth mother. You’ll love it.”

  “You’re nuts. I’m not going to love it. I’m going to wake up every morning and wish I had my babies again. You’re the exception to the rule.”

  “Me?”

  “You. Look, I’ve been watching you with Molly. She’s fine with me, but she treats you worse every time I see you together. She’s surly and prickly—and listen to that music! And you don’t seem to care one bit.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Tracy said. “Every time she’s a little gruff with me, that means she trusts me more. She knows I won’t overreact. Of course, she also knows she can only go so far or I’ll crack down on her. But it’s a balancing act and she feels comfortable enough to experiment.”

  “You make it sound easy. I don’t think you get it. You don’t understand—teenagers aren’t easy for everybody. I’m just glad you’ll be around to hold my hand when mine are that age.”

  Tracy poured the tea and they talked of other things, but even after Janet was gone, her words lingered behind. Tracy thought about them well into the evening.

  Molly was so glad to be back in the country. The house was creaky and old, and it took a few minutes for the hot water to reach the shower. But Molly’s room had two windows side by side that looked out to the mountains and a big soft bed that sank around her at night and kept her warm.

  And on the Friday after Thanksgiving, her room also had a sewing machine.

  “Okay, here it is. What do you think?” Tracy came through the door lugging an old black machine with spidery gold lettering. “I told you I’d find it. I just had to look behind every blasted box and trunk in the attic.”

  Molly had been busy clearing a space on a small table that had held a clock with huge glow-in-the-dark numbers and a collection of silly ceramic dogs.

  “Oh, good, you got rid of the dogs.” Tracy plunked the old machine where the dogs had stood. “I hope you pitched them out the window.”

  “I just put them in a drawer. They’re pretty dumb, but I kind of like them. I like dogs.”

  “I like real dogs. I don’t know who left those. One of the renters.”

  “I think the house gets lonely without people living in it. Maybe the dogs keep it company.” The moment she uttered the words, Molly was sure this was probably the dumbest thing she’d ever said.

  Tracy just smiled. “I like that idea. It makes me feel better. I don’t like to see the place standing empty.”

  “How come, li
ke, you know, it’s not rented now?”

  “Graham…Mr. Wagner’s looking into the local real estate market. This might be the right time to sell it.”

  “Sell it?” Molly couldn’t imagine such a thing. The house was perfect. Old, but perfect. If it was her house, she’d live here all the time and never, never leave.

  “I know exactly what you mean. I like it, too. But it seems unfair just to let it sit here and wait for us to visit when there are people who could live here year-round. It needs fixing up. I used to think…” Tracy’s voice drifted off.

  Molly normally didn’t prod people to talk. Most of the time she preferred not to hear what they had to say, since the news was rarely good. But this time she couldn’t help herself. “What did you think?”

  “Well, I thought it might make a nice craft gallery.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A shop where people come to buy local handiwork. There are a lot of wonderful artists and craftspeople in this area. Potters, sculptors, weavers. There’s a stained-glass artist just down the road who makes the most gorgeous windows. I try to get my clients to buy local pieces for their homes, but it’s tough because people are busy and there aren’t enough galleries for them to make selections without tramping from studio to studio. I’d love to start one.”

  “Here?”

  “Here or somewhere else outside the city. This seems like a good bet. People come here to relax, and they want relaxing things to do. They want to buy things to take back home to remind them of their vacations. We’re not far from the main road. It’s a nice detour.”

  “Then why don’t you do it? You’re a grown-up. You get to do whatever you want.”

  Tracy laughed a little. “Do you think so? If you’re counting on that, I’d better warn you now. There are always things that get in the way.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, it would cost a lot of money. And take a lot of work.”

  “You have a lot of money. And you work all the time anyway.” This made perfectly good sense to Molly, so she was sorry when it was clear her words had hurt Tracy.

  “Hey, I don’t work all the time. We’re here today, aren’t we? And yesterday and the rest of the weekend?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Tracy ruffled her hair. “Don’t be. I do work too much, and so does Mr. Wagner. Before you came, we’d almost forgotten how much fun it is to take some time off.”

  Molly figured she’d have to think about that. She wasn’t sure this was a good thing. She wasn’t really used to good things happening just because she was living with somebody.

  “Anyway,” Tracy said, “this is the big moment, kiddo. Are we going to take your quilt apart and make it bigger with the new fabric we bought last weekend? Or are we just going to try to fix it a little so it won’t fall apart as fast?”

  Molly had been thinking about what to do ever since Tracy had proposed the idea of expanding her quilt. A new quilt would be great, but it would never be the same. It wouldn’t feel the same, look the same. On the other hand, it would last a lot longer, maybe her whole life if she took good care of it.

  And the new fabric, more lavender and yellow prints, was awfully pretty.

  “I think we ought to do it,” Molly said, not without reservations.

  “Then let’s get this antique threaded and see if it really works.”

  That night after Molly went to bed, Tracy went in search of Graham. They had dined early on Thanksgiving leftovers, then he had disappeared. She and Molly had hardly noticed since they’d gone right back to work.

  The machine had worked surprisingly well, the quilt had come apart with only a little help, and they had been pleasantly surprised to find that most of the original blocks could be used again if they restitched some of the seams. They had made more blocks, following the instructions Tracy had received from the gracious quilters she had consulted. Now, tomorrow, they could sew the blocks back together and begin to add borders.

  Meantime, Graham had disappeared.

  Tracy thought she knew where she would find her husband, and she was right. He was off in the old woodworking shop where his father, an excellent woodworker himself, had taught his son the basics and beyond.

  The shop was compact but well-organized. Graham hadn’t used it in a long time, and he kept his tools locked away in the condo’s spacious storage area.

  This weekend, though, he had brought a few with him, and now they were neatly lined up on a freshly dusted worktable. A space heater warmed the room, and moonlight and two shop lights illuminated it. From the looks of things, there was a project in the offing.

  “Don’t tell me,” Tracy said from the doorway, feigning a heart attack by slapping her hand over her chest. “You’re going to make that headboard at last?”

  He turned and grinned. “Nope.”

  “A woman can dream.”

  “Maybe that’ll be the next project.”

  She joined him at the table and sniffed the air. “Cedar, right?”

  “A couple of good-size trees up on the hill keeled over in a storm a few years ago, so I had them sawed into boards. They’ve been curing in the garage ever since. I almost forgot they were there.”

  “What are you making?”

  “Well, I thought if you and Molly get into quilting, there might be more quilts down the road a piece. She’ll need a place to store them. So I’m making her a cedar chest. I thought I’d give it to her for Christmas.”

  Tracy was so surprised she blurted out the first thought she had. “What if she’s not with us at Christmas? What if she’s been moved by then?”

  She hadn’t wanted to squelch Graham’s enthusiasm, but Tracy realized by the way his expression hardened that she had. “And how is she going to take it to her new home?”

  “I thought of that.” His next comment had a pronounced edge. “Or does that surprise you?”

  “I’m sorry. I just hate… Well, you’re going to so much trouble, and she’s going to be so disappointed if she has to leave it behind….”

  “If she’s not allowed to bring the chest with her, we’ll keep it for her. She’ll know that she can have it the moment she has a place of her own. We’re not going to just let her vanish from our lives, are we? We’re going to stay in touch. She’ll be able to visit, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not. Social services will probably want us to back off and let her get adjusted to the new family. We’ve only had her a couple of months. We won’t have much in the way of rights.”

  He faced her, arms folded over his chest. “So what would you like me to do?”

  She wished they had never started this conversation, but clearly it had been hanging at the edges of their lives, waiting for this moment. This wasn’t about a cedar chest. Nor was it only about Molly. A lot of it was about the two of them.

  “Our lives have changed since Molly came,” Tracy said. “And I think we’ve been good for her. She’s been good for us, too. We’ve started taking a little time off, working fewer evenings and weekends. We talk more…”

  “Right now I wish that part wasn’t true.”

  She winced at his tone. “I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. The cedar chest is a thoughtful gift. You’re right. We’ll find a way to make sure Molly can keep it. But this is about more than the cedar chest. It’s about asking Darla if we can go from being emergency foster parents to long-term ones. Isn’t it?”

  He didn’t nod. His shrug was almost undetectable.

  “There’s a lot more to that decision than meets the eye,” she pointed out. “Has the extra time you’ve taken off made your job as difficult as it’s made mine? Are you working twice as fast every day to try to make up for it? Have you thought about summer vacation and how we’ll manage when Molly’s home full-time?”

  “Kids get jobs. They go to camp or summer school.”

  “Why keep her if our solution is to find ways to dump her somewhere else as often as possible?”

  “Y
ou know that’s not how I meant it.”

  “But that would be the upshot. My job speeds up in the summer, and I work even harder. You can’t afford to take up my slack. Doesn’t she deserve a family with parents who are home more? Who don’t have to rearrange schedules and juggle clients just to take the whole Thanksgiving holiday off? Who have nine-to-five jobs they can let go of when the day ends?”

  “Don’t you think half the families in this country have those kinds of problems? They manage.”

  “And what about the day Darla comes to us and says she’s found a family that wants to adopt Molly? We put our careers in second gear, rearrange our priorities and suddenly she’s gone anyway? And we’re left with a hole in our lives and our hearts?”

  Graham was silent. Outside the workshop, the country night was still except for an owl hooting somewhere on the hillside.

  “So that’s what this is about,” he said at last.

  “I never lied to you. I told you I wasn’t sure I’d ever want kids.”

  “Trace, it’s not about wanting a kid, it’s about letting a kid go. You’re afraid you’re going to fall in love with her.”

  She gestured to the cedar planks. “And what is that about?”

  He didn’t answer. She took a deep breath. “I’m trying to be levelheaded. I’m looking at our lives and what we don’t have to offer Molly. I’m looking at the very distinct possibility that someone else will have more, and we’ll have to say goodbye. I’m warning you not to get too attached.”

  Graham waited a moment before he spoke. Tracy wasn’t sure he was going to say anything at all, but at last he did.

  “You know what?” This shrug was obvious. “I’m willing to take my chances. I’d rather give Molly a piece of my heart when she leaves than keep my heart sealed away for no good reason. That’s the chance you take when you care about somebody.”

  He turned back to his project, leaving her to wonder what chances she was willing to take.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Molly didn’t really like Jennifer Carvelli. Jennifer was sooo positive there wasn’t anybody else in the world as wonderful as she was. But through the years Molly had learned to be practical. In her short life she’d been stuck with a lot of people she had to get along with, whether she liked them or not. Compared with the girl in one of her foster homes who had cut up all Molly’s clothes with their foster father’s hedge trimmer, Jennifer wore a halo.