Forever Beach (16 page)

It only took the ride up the elevator at her office building for her bubble to burst. She never realized before how dingy it looked, and it was by far a newer building than the one she had just left. Of course Hands Around the World was surviving on a shoestring; it was servicing twenty-five families and could go up in smoke any minute. Reesa worked for an agency that serviced thousands of broken families. They didn't have time to put up colorful posters.

I
LONA WAS ON
the phone to Mr. Sobrato's lawyer again. He'd gotten another recess due to his client's “bad health” and had been stalling her all week. “You know, Ms. Cartwright, he may have to have surgery. Do we want this to drag on for months while he recovers?”

“We can end this right now if he wants. Have him sign the papers and he can go get his surgery with my blessing.”

“It will be better for all parties if we settle this out of court.”

Ilona smiled, slowly. Too late, baby. They'd had their chance. Now she was going to take them to the cleaners.

Her intercom buzzed. Inez knew not to interrupt calls unless it was an emergency. What could possibly be an emergency? Her cases files were up to date; her court appearances were spot on the money.

“Excuse me. Can I call you back? I have another client on the other line.” Let him think it was Mrs. Sobrato. Maybe it was. She was whiny enough to think everything was an emergency. Maybe she forgot to ask for the pet goldfish.

Ilona hung up. “What is it, Inez?”

“I'm sorry, but your father is on line two. He said he really needs to talk to you.”

Great. They probably wanted to parade her out to some fund-raising dinner. “Thank you, Inez. I'll take it.” Ilona took a deep breath and pressed the speaker as she reached for the Sobrato brief.

“Hello, Dad. How can I help you?”

“I-I hate to have to tell you, Ilona . . . June is dead.”

At first she thought he was talking about the month, then understanding slowly seeped in. June? His wife? Her adoptive mother? Dead?

“I know it must be a shock,” he continued when Ilona didn't say anything. His voice was shaky.

Hers was nonexistent. “How did it happen?” she finally managed.

“Aneurysm. In her sleep. I woke up and she just—” He broke off and Ilona could hear sounds like . . . crying? They'd never seemed like very loving people to her. Maybe he was worried about being alone. Well, he needn't look her way.

“The funeral is Saturday. I thought you might want to know.”

That struck home. “Of course I would. I'm so sorry. I had no idea she was ill.”

“No one did. I don't know what I'll do without her.”

Ilona looked toward the ceiling.

“I thought if you'd like to come stay here for a few days.”

“Sorry, Dad. I have to be in court all day tomorrow, but of course I'll be there for the funeral. Holy Trinity?”

“Yes, 10:00.”

So as not to interfere with anyone's tennis.

“Well, I have to make some other calls. How are you, Ilona?”

“Fine. Just fine. I'm sorry about . . . Mother.”

Her father blubbered something and hung up.

Ilona disconnected then sat back in her chair. June Cartwright was dead. The only mother she actually remembered. Ilona searched her heart for some feeling. Grief? Relief? Found nothing. Nothing at all. June's passing didn't affect her life one way or the other.

That was sad. The only thing she had ever wanted was love. No, that wasn't entirely true. There were plenty of other things she wanted. But when she was younger, she would have given up the possibility of any or all of them for someone who loved her unconditionally. For a mother and father. A real family. Not one where she felt like a barely tolerated guest.

Her ex had said June was looking unwell when Ilona had seen him at the club. Ilona guessed he would be at the funeral along with his round-bellied trophy wife. He'd probably be standing with her father. Gotta keep one foot on the ladder even graveside. There would be a lot of people she knew or had known once. She supposed she should go to the church early and stand in the receiving line. She hadn't thought to ask her father if she'd even be welcome.

They'd never been that close. You couldn't be that close to someone whose sole purpose in life seemed to be climbing the social, corporate, or political landscape. She sighed, what a waste.

She buzzed Inez.

“Is everything all right, Ms. Cartwright?”

“Yes, fine. Get Mr. Sobrato's attorney on the line, please.” Time for them to stop dicking around. She was going to make the bastard pay.

O
n Friday the tantrums began. It started with breakfast when Leila demanded waffles. She'd eaten the last of the frozen waffles the day before. Sarah hadn't had time to go shopping. She offered eggs, cereal, peanut butter and toast.

By the time she mentioned toast, Leila was on the floor screaming, flailing her arms and kicking. Sarah pulled the chairs out of the way so she wouldn't hurt herself and walked into the next room. It was hard to watch your child fall apart. And harder still when Sarah knew it was just Leila's desperate attempt to reject before she was rejected.

So Sarah stood in the hall waiting for the storm to pass, waiting to be able to comfort her and chase away her fears.

By the time Leila did settle down, she had missed the bus. Sarah was tempted just to keep her home, but she knew where that would lead. She'd spent too much time and energy to backslide now, even though it seemed like fate and the system were determined to see her fail.

So at ten o'clock she washed Leila's face and hands, gave her a piece of toast and a juice box, and drove her to school. They stopped by the principal's office to sign in. Thank goodness the principal Mrs. O'Riley had dealt with her share of foster children. She offered to take Leila down to her classroom and make sure she got on the bus to come home.

After a sniff and an unhappy look at Sarah, Leila took the principal's hand. And Sarah reluctantly made herself let her go. She waited until the principal was back, thanked her.

“I understand that these mornings happen. She's been doing well,” Mrs. O'Riley said. “Anything going on I should know about?”

Sarah told her about the change in status and the revived visits. Mrs. O'Riley just nodded. “You'll see this through.”

As soon as Sarah got home, she pulled her notebook out of the drawer and documented the morning. She was sick of documenting their life; it seemed like the bad times were beginning to outnumber the good.

She flipped back through the notebook to reassure herself. Smiled at the entry about going crabbing. Turned to a photo of Leila, her cheeks puffed out as she blew out the candles on her third birthday cake. Then there was the inevitable return to her bio home and the problems and regressions that occurred. At least Leila had been able to come back to her instead of some strange place just because it had a free bed, because even then she'd been on an adoption track.

Sarah longed for the day that this would be over. Then she and Leila could face each day secure in the knowledge that they belonged to each other, when they wouldn't have to fear being torn apart.

She closed the notebook, returned it to the desk. One day
she wouldn't have to document everything. They'd just live. Have the same highs and lows that any ordinary family would have.

She went out the back door and into the shop. It was Alice's day off, and Sarah was late opening the store. And since she had to man the counter, she lost valuable repair time. Then she remembered that Sam would leave a note saying that he was in the back and to ring the bell. Sarah always thought that was just asking for walkaways. But today she wrote out a note and taped it to the door.

Then she went to the back and set about completing the violin clock repairs. And as she carefully restored the pieces to order, the nerves and the hurt fell away, and she gave into another world, a place that worked, that needed to be wound carefully but would go on indefinitely.

It was a place she loved. A place Sam loved. But he'd warned her that it was also a lonely place. She'd only seen it as a place of security, until today. The wooden body felt sleek beneath her hands. Her hands barely shook as she maneuvered the workings back in and tightened the tiny screws to hold it in place.

Putting a clock together was second nature to her now. Except when it wasn't.

The jeweler's screwdriver skipped over a piece of rust, the screw popped out of the threads, and onto the plastic workbox. Sarah tried to catch it before it bounced over the rim—the box tipped and parts flew everywhere.

She snatched off the jeweler's loupe and magnifier, checked her clothes first, found a couple of tiny springs. Carefully placing her feet on the floor, she slid off the stool, listening for any rolling metal.

It took nearly twenty minutes to make certain she had recovered all the parts and returned them to the tray. She'd wasted valuable time. Now she was right back where she'd started, with a gutted clock and a mess of parts waiting for her to make them work again.

She was surrounded by mechanical devices, all in a state of repair or disrepair, some nearly completed, some waiting on parts, some with their guts lying in a tray beside them. Waiting for her.

She pushed the work tray aside, stood up.

Clocks were reactive. They could charm, but they couldn't love you back, couldn't urge you on to better things, or wrap their arms around you when you needed a hug. Maybe that's why Sam had given her a place to land. He wasn't handing out charity, but he'd recognized another solitary soul and took her in to share his life.

And he'd done so much more. He'd taught her to be human. To be a daughter. To be a friend. And she was in danger of losing that. She'd been so caught up in her life with Leila and the prospect of losing her that she'd only been using her friends as a buffer.

How could they stand her? How selfish and self-absorbed she was. But they did. They cared about her. And Sam had loved her. There must be something to that.

She picked up the phone, keyed in Karen's cell.

“Hey, girlfriend. What's up?”

“Nothing, just calling to see how you are.”

There was silence for a second, while Sarah imagined Karen wondering WTF.

“Not much. Are you and Leila ready for the sand castle
contest tomorrow? The girls are driving me nuts. Had to go buy new plastic sand tools. I swear they do have their father's genes.”

“Sounds great, but Leila has to go to Carmen's birthday party. The team has decided they need to meet more often.”

“That really sucks. Is there anything I can do?”

“Thanks, but I didn't call to talk about me and my problems. I was just wondering how you were. So I called. Just to say hi. Not because I'm a needy mess.”

Karen laughed. “I don't think that. You just don't call that often.”

“I know.”

“Well, at least you can come and cheer the girls on. Let Alice earn her keep.”

“Maybe I will. I'm getting a little tired of clocks this week.”

“Well, that's a first. Good thing you have such scintillating, entertaining friends.”

“Good friends,” Sarah said, and immediately felt embarrassed.

“Good friends, all of us,” Karen agreed. “We'll be in our usual place. And I hear Wyatt is one of the judges.”

Sarah smiled. “I'll definitely be there.”

B
UT WHEN
S
ATURDAY
came and Danny finally picked up Leila for Carmen's birthday, all Sarah wanted to do was crawl in bed with the covers over her head. She went to the bathroom to clean up the scratches on her arms and face where Leila had fought getting dressed. She'd have to cut her nails before the next visit, if Randy couldn't get his act together to ask for a temporary stay.

Sarah had pleaded with Danny to give them a pass on this one, that Leila had been looking forward to the sand castle contest, but he was caught in the middle and even though he was obviously nonplussed by Leila's behavior, he picked her up and took her out to his car. “I'll be there the whole time,” he called, then climbed in his car with a screaming kid.

Sarah needed to fortify her patience for the coming days, maybe weeks. She and Leila had been through this twice. Leila had been younger then and smaller. Now she was old enough to understand something bad was happening.

Knowing she had three hours until they would be back again, Sarah decided to go to the beach. Someplace where families were happy, where maybe she'd even see Wyatt for a few minutes before returning to the fray. She put on her swimsuit. How was that for optimism?

She grabbed a towel and her sunglasses and stopped by the store to let Alice know she was taking time off. Summer was short; soon the days would be dark early and there would be plenty of time for the store. Clocks didn't stop breaking down because it was winter.

The beach was crowded but it was easy to pick out Karen's polka-dot umbrella amid the sea of umbrellas. They were all there. Tammy and Bessie were playing tag with another group of children. They all wore ribbons around their necks. And plastic gold medallions bounced at the ends as they ran. Everyone under twelve got a medal. And Sarah hurt that Leila would be odd man out. Boy, she knew how that felt.

She put on a smile and climbed down the wooden steps to join her friends. Reesa was there, wearing the same pair of shorts she'd had on the week before. But she looked rested.
Karen and Stu sat in matching beach chairs side by side. Karen looked out from her favorite wide-brimmed straw hat and motioned for Sarah to come over.

Wyatt, who was sitting with his back turned to her, looked over the back of the chair and smiled. Then he frowned and stood up.

“What happened to you?”

“What?” Sarah said. He touched her cheek and she winced. “Oh. Leila didn't want to go.”

He led her over to his chair and made her sit. Then he unfolded another chair and sat next to her.

She was touched, but she laughed. “It's only a few scratches. Kitten scratches,” she added, but her voice wobbled.

Bessie and Tammy ran over to show her their medals. “Where's Leila?” Bessie asked.

“She's visiting her bio mother.”

“She missed the contest,” Tammy said. “We wanted her to help us.”

“Our castle was huge,” Bessie said and spread her arms to show them.

Jenny, who had followed them up to the group, sank down next to Stu's chair and rolled her eyes.

“Daddy took pictures on his phone,” Bessie said.

“Then you can show her pictures of your castle. I bet it was fabulous.”

Sarah felt Wyatt's hand slide over hers. She was sure he meant it to be consoling, but she was so close to the edge that what emotions she'd held in check while talking to the girls threatened to pour over now. She felt the disappointment as if it were her own.

“There'll be next year,” she managed. And hoped to God that was true.

They both nodded. And ran off.

Sarah sat back in the chair, glad of her sunglasses while she blinked furiously. She didn't like to cry in front of people, but she was perilously close this afternoon.

“Is Leila going to have to go back?” Jenny asked. “That's not fair.”

“Jenny,” Karen said. “Please go see to your sisters.”

“But is she?”

“No. Now go.”

Jenny reluctantly followed her sisters.

“Well, I don't know what the holdup is,” Stu said as soon as she was gone.

“Stu,” Karen snapped.

“What? I thought the adoption was a done deal.”

“We all did,” Karen said.

“Oh,” he said.

Sarah had closed her eyes, but she could imagine Karen giving Stu the evil eye to get him to shut up.

“It doesn't seem fair, that the mother can suddenly change her mind,” he mumbled and then was quiet.

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek. It didn't help. She was awful at reaching out, and now she was going to make an embarrassing scene if she didn't leave.

“I'd better get back.”

“You just got here,” Karen said.

“Sarah.” It was the first time Reesa had spoken, and her voice sounded weary, not like the advocate Sarah had come to depend on.

Sarah felt her control slipping away. She wanted to be happy, to be able to sit at the beach with her friends and her daughter without worrying.

“You can't keep up this nonstop worry or you'll make yourself sick and won't be any good to Leila.”

“I know.” Sarah tried to get out of the chair, but Wyatt's hand tightened on hers.

“Stay. It's all going to work out.”

She tried to smile, but she couldn't hold it in any longer. “You don't know that. I could lose her. And we were so close.”

“Whatever happens,” Karen said, “you'll see it through. We'll see it through with you.”

“And then what? Leila is everything to me. Everything.” She felt Wyatt flinch, but she couldn't stop herself.

“I could lose it all. Better to have left her there instead of giving her hope and then snatching it away. Because of all the stuff that happens, the mean, the dirty, the hurtful, the abuse, losing hope is the worst thing of all.”

She yanked her hand from Wyatt's and heaved out of the beach chair. “I have to go.” She practically ran for the stairs.

“Sarah!” Karen called.

Sarah didn't stop; she hated herself for being such a mess. Maybe she didn't deserve to be a mother—or a friend.

R
EESA SAT UP
and watched Sarah go. “She didn't mean it, Wyatt. We're all important to her. She's just preparing herself not to feel pain. I see it happen all the time. It's standard issue for system kids.”

“And when she's around, can we please be more sensitive?” Karen added.

“Did I do that?” Stu asked.

“No, honey. She's just living on the edge right now.”

“Well, it's a damn shame they keep putting her through this.”

“It is.”

“Give her some space,” Reesa said. She hadn't been paying attention to the others. Actually she'd been thinking about herself for a change. And by the time she realized where the conversation was going, it was too late to stop it.

Wyatt stood up. “The hell I will.”

“She needs time to compose herself. She won't appreciate it if you find her crying.”

He stopped. “You think she's crying?”