Casting About (12 page)

O
n Monday I knew I had the beginning of the head cold that was floating around the island. Everyone who came into the yarn shop seemed to be sneezing and coughing, and by Wednesday morning, I had managed to have a full-blown case of an upper respiratory infection.

Adam came into the bedroom to kiss me good-bye before leaving for work.

“Don't get too close,” I warned, turning my head.

“Will you be okay here all day? Maybe I should call Dora and have her take you into town to the doctor.”

“Nah, I'll be fine,” I told him, reaching for a tissue as another sneeze escaped me. “I'm taking Tylenol and cough syrup. It just has to run its course. I don't want you and Clarissa catching it, though.”

“Do you want me to cancel my meetings this afternoon? Clarissa will be home at noon. Half a day today for her.”

“No, don't do that. I'm okay to get up and get her lunch. She'll be occupied doing her homework until you get home.”

“Okay,” he told me, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “Now stay in bed and rest. I'll be back by four.”

I heard the door close as Adam and Clarissa left and turned over to snuggle into my pillows.

When I awoke about ten, I felt a little better and decided to tackle the laundry that had piled up over the weekend. I fixed myself some soup and tea, loaded the washing machine, and crawled back into bed.

I felt myself being pulled from a deep sleep to the sound of my name. Opening one eye, I saw Clarissa standing at the foot of the bed, a worried expression on her face.

“What's wrong?” I asked, struggling to sit up.

“There's somebody here to see you.”

I glanced at the clock on the night table and was shocked to see it was 2:00.

“Why didn't you wake me when you got in from school?” I asked, sticking my arms into the sleeves of my bathrobe. Not bothering with slippers, I followed Clarissa into the kitchen where I found myself slipping to my butt on the tile floor.

Wetness was saturating my bathrobe and nightgown as I sat in about two inches of soapy water. What the hell! Trying to get my bearings, I glanced around the kitchen and realized the washing machine had overflowed. Attempting to stand up, I surveyed the room to see the counter covered with spilled cereal, crumbs of toast, empty cheese wrappers, and globs of peanut butter and jelly. It was then that I saw the unfamiliar woman standing just inside the kitchen door.

Dressed in a drab gray suit, arms folded across her chest, the expression on her face reminded me of somebody that had just sucked on a lemon.

“Monica Brooks?” she inquired without an ounce of pleasantness.

I could only nod stupidly.

“I'm with the Department of Children and Families in Gainesville.”

Oh shit,
was my only thought.

“I'm here today to do a spot check on the living conditions of Clarissa Brooks.” Now looking like a foul odor was assailing her nostrils, she pointedly looked around the kitchen.

“Oh…oh, well, I'm really sorry for this mess.” It was then that I saw Clarissa flattened against the sink, the worried expression on her face having turned to pure panic. “I'm sick with a cold—I've been in bed all day….”

“Obviously,” the woman sniffed.

If I thought things couldn't get any worse, I was wrong. It was at that moment that Billie must have realized we had a stranger in the house. The dog came running from Clarissa's room charging directly at the social worker, barking with a ferociousness that brought to mind a pit bull. The woman took a step back, but that didn't deter the dog.

“Billie!” both Clarissa and I screamed at the same time. “No!”

Clarissa sloshed forward in the water to scoop up the ball of fluff turned guard dog.

“Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry,” I attempted to say, but by then the woman had her hand on the doorknob.

“Tell Mr. Brooks I'll be phoning him tomorrow,” was all she said, and with that the slam of the door reverberated through the house.

Standing there, I glanced around the kitchen once again trying to figure out what had just happened, and my gaze caught Clarissa's face. She stood with Billie in her arms, her expression a map of worry, looking like she was ready to burst out crying any second. This was the closest I'd ever seen the child to tears.

The entire scene quickly replayed in my mind, and despite the possible seriousness of the situation, I began giggling. The giggles turned to genuine laughter over which I had no control.

Clarissa's face transformed from fear to surprise to doubt and within a few seconds her laughter joined mine in the kitchen. Two females unable to control the silliness, and it was in that moment that something shifted deep inside of me. I felt a bond, a connection with this child. I padded through the water to where she was standing and put my arm around her shoulders as our giggles began to subside.

Clarissa looked up at me as concern returned to her face. “Are we in trouble?”

“Probably,” I said, not at all sure.

That was when her flood of tears came to the surface and I felt terrible for being so glib.

I turned her around to face me as tears poured down her face. “No, no. It'll be okay. Really.”

“Are you…sure?” she asked between hiccups. “Will she make me go back to live with my mother?” Fresh tears poured forth. “I don't want to leave here like Zoe has to.”

Pulling Clarissa into my arms, my first thought was how good she felt there. Trying to soothe her, I said, “No, don't be silly. You're not going anywhere. This was just a misunderstanding. We haven't done anything wrong…except to flood the kitchen.”

This brought forth another hiccup followed by a giggle.

“Really?” she asked, doubt still lingering.

“Really,” I told her. I kissed the top of her head. “But…can you tell me how this happened?”

Clarissa slowly moved away from my embrace. “Well, I knew you were sick and didn't feel good. So when I came home from school, I checked on you and you were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you, so I tried to make myself some lunch. Then I saw you were doing laundry. I put the clothes that were in the washer into the dryer and did the other load—but I must have done something wrong, because all the water came out and then that woman knocked on the door—and I didn't know what to do.”

I smiled. “You did just fine, and I promise you everything will be all right. Now, maybe you can get the shop vac from the closet and we can clean up this mess.”

Clarissa threw me a look of gratitude that I swear went all the way to my soul.

 

“Well,” Adam said later that evening over dinner. “Sounds like I missed quite a fiasco here. From the way you've described that woman, she sounds like one of the characters at the orphanage in
Annie.
”

Clarissa and I exchanged a grin.

“She wasn't very nice at all, Daddy. Monica and I hadn't done anything wrong, and she was nasty. Are we in trouble, though?”

Adam reached over to take his daughter's hand. “Absolutely not. You're right. Neither of you did anything wrong. She'll call me tomorrow and we'll get this all straightened out. You're not to worry about it anymore.”

“But…” Clarissa pushed food around on her plate before going on. “Can she make me go back to live with Mom in Georgia? I don't want that to happen.”

“She can't do that, Clarissa. I have full custody of you. You do understand, though, if your mother wins visitation rights—well, that means you might have to stay with her one weekend a month.”

“I'll have to go up to Georgia?”

Even a child could understand the foolishness of it all.

Adam nodded. “Yes, but we're not sure that'll happen.” He paused for a moment before going on. “Clarissa, she
is
your mother. Are you certain you don't want to spend any time with her? I don't want you feeling like you have to choose between us. Your permanent home can be here with us, but I don't want you feeling guilty about loving your mother.”

Her head shot up to stare at Adam and without a moment's hesitation, she said, “But I don't love her. I don't feel like I even
know
her. We hardly ever spent any time together. I was always with Trish.”

I caught Adam's gaze and instinctively knew that everything I'd ever heard about parenting was true. It wasn't the gifts or monetary things a parent gave to a child that counted—it was something as simple as quality time and most of all, love.

D
ora had planned a combined birthday and anniversary dinner at her home for me and Adam. I'd come to realize that in our family these types of gatherings were very important. Any excuse would do for a few generations to get together.

By the time Adam, Clarissa, and I had arrived, Saren, Grace, and Opal were enjoying a glass of wine.

Kisses and hugs were exchanged as Dora brought out Saren's famous mullet dip with the other appetizers.

“So y'all are headed to Amelia Island tomorrow?” Saren questioned.

“Yes,” I told him. “It'll be nice to have a little getaway for a few days.”

“And I'm looking forward to spending time with my granddaughter again,” Opal said. “I've even come to love that little pooch of hers.”

“Well, from what I heard, you've got yourself quite a little watchdog there,” Dora told her.

“Everything turned out okay with that social worker, didn't it?” Opal questioned.

I nodded. “Yes, Adam handled it. She said they'll be back. I'll just make sure Clarissa's not doing the laundry the day she returns.”

Clarissa laughed, and it made me feel good to see the worry had vanished from her face after Adam's talk with her.

Following a feast of seafood, cheese grits, homemade biscuits, and black-eyed peas, Dora brought out an elaborate cake that she'd made.

“Oh, this is gorgeous,” I told her as I stood up to inspect her detailed work. She'd baked a rectangular carrot cake that had been divided with a frosting of lavender lilacs. One half had two red hearts entwined with
Adam & Monica
in script, while the other side read
Happy Birthday, Monica
in flowing blue.

“Blow out the candles,” Dora said, “And then it's time for gifts.”

“You guys help me,” I told Adam and Clarissa, and together the three of us puffed out the flames.

“Birthday gifts first,” Opal said, stacking the table with assorted boxes and gift bags.

“Wow, I love birthdays.” I reached for the first box, unwrapping it to find a beautiful white shawl in an intricate pattern made by Dora. “This is just lovely. I'll wear it to dinner while we're away. Thank you.”

Next were recent releases by Fern Michaels and Elin Hilder-brand from Saren.

“Your mama told me you might like those.”

“Oh, I will,” I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

I reached for a brightly colored mint green gift bag. The tag read
Mom & Noah
.

“Your mother had this mailed to me a few weeks ago,” Dora explained. “She said it gave her another excuse to shop in Paris.”

I laughed, and reaching inside, pulled out a beautiful pale blue silk nightgown and matching robe. Holding it up to admire, I said, “Oh, I just love it. It's perfect to take on our little getaway.” I looked up to see the grin on Adam's face and sent him a wink.

I reached for Grace's gift and opened a rectangular box to find a gift certificate to our favorite spa in Gainesville.

“I figured we needed another girls' day out,” she said.

I waved the paper in the air. “Oh yeah…I never turn down a day at the spa.”

Opal's gift was a bottle of Magie Noire—Black Magic, another of my favorite French perfumes.

“And from me,” Adam said, passing me a small box.

I opened it to find a slim gold chain with a small circular gold disc. Three birthstones had been embedded into the gold—mine, Adam's, and Clarissa's.

“Oh,” I gasped, looking at Adam. “This is just gorgeous. Look, Clarissa, all three of us.”

She came to stand beside me and inspect the piece of jewelry. “Do you like it? I helped Dad pick it out.”

“I love it. I just love it. What a thoughtful gift.” I handed it to Adam to clasp around my neck. Reaching up, I touched the coolness of the gold disc and fingered the stones. “Thank you so much to both of you.”

“Oh,” Clarissa said, running to bring me another gift. “This one is from me. Just me.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked at Adam. He nodded and smiled.

I removed the birthday paper to find an 8x10 canvas of an exact replica of the Lighthouse. Moisture blurred my vision as I glanced at Clarissa. “
You
did this?”

Excitement covered her face. “Yes…. Well, Miss Tilly helped me a lot, but I really did most of it. Do you like it? We thought it would be nice to paint your grandmother's house.”

I was speechless. It was an incredible gift, but what touched me even more was the fact that all those days she was off painting with Tilly, she wasn't making something for Adam—it was for
me.

“Oh, Clarissa,” I said, reaching out to pull her into my arms. “It's stunning. Of course I love it, and I'll always treasure it. You have such talent.”

“Ah, yup, must take after her great-grandfather,” Saren said in his slow drawl, bringing forth a round of laughter.

“This was the best birthday I've ever had. Thank you, all of you, so much.”

“And now the anniversary gift,” Dora said. She passed an envelope to Adam and me.

“You open it,” I told him.

He removed a piece of rectangular paper, glanced at it, and said, “Oh, wow,” passing it to me.

I read the embossed paper—a four-night stay at the Partridge Inn in Augusta, Georgia.

“This is for us?” I looked up at five smiling faces.

“Ah, yup,” Saren said. “All of us, we chipped in.”

“It was your mother's idea,” Dora explained. “She thought it might be nice for the two of you to get away more often. She booked you for early December. Thought you could do some Christmas shopping while you're up there.”

I smiled. “My mom and Noah have been there many times, and I know they loved it—both the town and the inn. They said the inn is lovely with a lot of Old World charm. Thank you for being a part of this great gift.” I was excited at the thought of another getaway with Adam. “Oh, but can you get a couple of days off work?” I asked him.

“That really was very nice of all of you,” he agreed. “And yes, I have a few personal days I'll use. I've heard Sydney and Noah rave about this place, especially the Riverwalk, so I know we'll definitely enjoy it.”

“And, Opal,” Dora said. “If you're not here in December, I'd be more than happy to have Clarissa stay with me.”

“Well, now, I guess that just gives me reason to stay a bit longer,” she told us.

“What a great birthday and anniversary. This family really is the best.”

“I coulda told ya that,” Saren said with a chuckle.

“Time for the cake and ice cream.” Dora got up to get dessert dishes from the kitchen.

I looked around at all the people I loved and felt a brief ache that Sybile was missing. She would have enjoyed this get-together. I missed her feisty ways and gravelly voice, but I also felt fortunate to have known her in the time I did. I strongly felt her presence and wondered if it was really possible that some souls lingered in our midst.