Once in a Blue Moon (16 page)

Kerrie Ann kept her eyes closed, savoring the rare moment of calm. She let her mind drift, aware only of the warmth of the sunshine rippling over her, the now familiar rumbling of the Willys’s engine, and the scent of new-mown grass drifting through the open window as they passed from King City’s commercial district into the farmlands beyond. The rude, clamoring thoughts that normally kept her from enjoying such peaceful moments were far away.

She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, Ollie was pulling into a parking space in front of the familiar stucco building, home of the group dental practice of George Barthold, DDS, where her visits with her daughter took place every other Sunday under the watchful eye of Mrs. Silvestre. “See you in a couple of hours,” said Ollie as she climbed out.

She paused to look back at him, realizing that she hadn’t taken into consideration until now that he’d be cooling his heels for the better part of the afternoon with nothing to keep him occupied. “Will you be okay on your own?” she asked. “There’s a Cineplex in the mall over on Highland Avenue—maybe you can catch a movie. Or, I don’t know, check out the shops.”

“I’m cool,” he said. “I’ll just wait right here. That way, if you need me, you’ll know where to find me.”

Kerrie Ann was touched. When was the last time a guy had looked out for her? Not since the early days with Jeremiah. She quickly turned away so Ollie wouldn’t see the gratitude on her face. “Nah, you go on,” she said. “I’ll be fine. You’d only get bored hanging around here.”

“Got it covered.” He brandished the iPod he’d fished from a pocket of his cargo pants. “I also brought plenty of reading material.” With a flourish, he pulled a stash of magazines from under his seat—copies of
Food and Wine
,
Bon Appetit
,
Cook’s Illustrated
.

She laughed and said, “In that case, knock yourself out.”

Stepping through the front entrance after she was buzzed in, Kerrie Ann was met by a blast of frigid air—the air conditioner was always on at the group practice of George Barthold, DDS, as if he and the other dentists saw it as a way to numb patients before they got their anesthetic. Kerrie Ann thought she could use an anesthetic right now. She was sweating despite the cold, and her pulse beat in time to the clacking of her boot heels against the tiled floor as she made her way past the empty treatment rooms toward the day care center, thoughtfully provided for the patients and employees of the dental practice.

Through an open door at the end of the corridor drifted the sound of voices—a woman’s and a child’s. Mrs. Silvestre and Bella had gotten here ahead of her, as usual. She felt a swelling of excitement. She hadn’t seen her little girl in several weeks—she’d had to reschedule the prior Sunday’s visit due to a lack of transportation—and missed her so much that it was an actual physical ache. Smiling, she stepped through the door.

Bella sat at one of the low tables, drawing on a large sheet of paper with colored Magic Markers, while Mrs. Silvestre stood over her, admiring her artwork. They both looked up at Kerrie Ann, Mrs. Silvestre with a welcoming smile and Bella with a look of delight that quickly gave way to one of shyness.

Kerrie Ann fought the impulse to fly over and gather Bella into her arms. She knew that coming on too strong could cause Bella to retreat or even bring on tears. Their relationship had become so fragile that each word, each gesture had to be carefully measured. It wasn’t just that Bella had a new life with the Bartholds; her trust in Kerrie Ann had been shaken. The mommy who was supposed to care for her had let her down. Kerrie Ann had explained, as best she could, that she’d been “sick” and that it wouldn’t happen again, and while Bella seemed to accept that, she wanted to know why they couldn’t be together now that her mommy was “all better.” She was too young to understand why Mommy couldn’t make that happen, so somehow that was Kerrie Ann’s fault, too. The thought was like a splinter lodged in her heart as she made her way across the room.

She squatted down so she was at eye level with her daughter, struck anew by the miracle she and Jeremiah had created in this child. With each passing year, Bella grew to look more and more like her father. She had his toffee-colored skin and wavy black hair, his lean shape and long, graceful fingers that had turned liquid when he’d played his guitar. Her blue eyes and the shape of her mouth were the only features she’d inherited from Kerrie Ann.

“Hey, baby. What you got there?”

Shyly Bella held up the drawing for her to see. It was a picture of what looked to be a large fish tank, containing various aquatic creatures, including an octopus. “It’s an aquarium,” she said. “That’s where all the fishes live. And whales and dolphins that do tricks.”

“The Bartholds took her to Sea World,” explained Mrs. Silvestre. She extended her small, plump hand to Kerrie Ann. Her brown eyes, beneath the wispy bangs that came down over her eyebrows, seemed to take in every detail of Kerrie Ann’s appearance in the time it took for them to shake hands. Kerrie Ann must have passed muster because the caseworker’s smile was a bit warmer than usual. “Apparently the whale act was a big hit.”

Kerrie Ann felt another knife-twist in her gut. She should have been the one taking Bella to Sea World! But she bit back a caustic response and only said, “Sounds like fun.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just give a shout if you need me,” said Mrs. Silvestre before heading over to the adult-sized table in the corner where her laptop sat like a square, glowing eye.

Kerrie Ann quickly became so wrapped up in her daughter that she forgot about anything and everyone else. They drew pictures together and, when Bella tired of that, constructed a castle out of Legos. A Barbie doll filled in as princess of the castle, Bella declaring, “She got locked up by a mean witch, and now the prince has to rescue her.”

“Where’s the prince? I don’t see him,” said Kerrie Ann, making a show of searching for him.

“You’re not s’posed to, Mommy. He’s
invisible
.” Bella looked up at her with all the sage wisdom of a six-year-old. In her flowered turtleneck and denim jumper, with her curly hair in neat braids, she looked like the girls in school whom Kerrie Ann used to envy.

“Why is he invisible?”

“’Cause. The witch put a spell on him.”

“Why’d she do that?”

“So the princess wouldn’t see him.”

“If she doesn’t know he’s there, how is he supposed to rescue her?”

Bella giggled. “Mommy. Don’t you know
anything
?”

Kerrie Ann smiled. “Guess I’m not as smart as you.”

“He gots to
kiss
her first.”

Bella went back to playing make-believe with the princess and invisible prince. Eventually she grew tired of that, too, and they sat and talked about other things: what she’d learned in school and the extracurricular activities she was enrolled in, like the dance class for which Carol Barthold had bought her a pink leotard and matching tights. As much as it pained Kerrie Ann to admit it, Bella was flourishing in the Bartholds’ care. Would the judge see that, too, and decide in their favor? If it were only a matter of who was best equipped to raise Bella, it would be no contest: The Bartholds were the clear winners.

Kerrie Ann felt a pang, wondering if she would be there to buy Bella her first bra . . . or see her off to the prom . . . or dry her tears when she got her heart broken by some insensitive clod of a boy.

“Hey, I almost forgot, I brought you something,” she said as they were settling into the beanbag chair with Bella’s favorite book—
Eloise at the Plaza
. Kerrie Ann dug into her pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped packet. “I picked it out just for you.”

A look of shy pleasure spread over Bella’s face. “What is it?”

“Open it and you’ll see.”

It was a small gilded sand dollar on a silver chain. Kerrie Ann had spied it in a souvenir shop down the street from the book café and thought it would be perfect. Her guess proved correct—Bella was delighted with it. “Is it a real shell?” she asked in an awed voice.

“Sure is. In fact, I’ll bet it came right off the beach by my new house.”

Bella eyed her in confusion. “What happened to the old house?”

“I moved, sweetie—to a whole new town. I was going to tell you over the phone, but I wanted to save the good news for when I could tell you in person. You should see this place! It’s right by the ocean. You can see whales there, too, only not the kind that do tricks. And outside there’s a ton of room to run around in. And here’s the best part . . .” She broke into a grin. “Your aunt Lindsay says I’m welcome to stay as long as I like.”

“Who’s Aunt Lindsay?”

“You haven’t met her yet.” Kerrie Ann didn’t add that neither had she until recently; it would only confuse Bella. “But she’s nice—you’ll like her.” She would explain later about Miss Honi.

“Will I live there, too?” Bella wanted to know.

Kerrie Ann glanced over at Mrs. Silvestre. She was tapping away at her laptop, pretending not to listen, but from her alert pose it was obvious that she was tuned in to every word. “You bet,” she said. “But not right away. First I have to get permission from the judge.”

Bella looked up at her with big, solemn eyes. “When will that be?”

Kerrie Ann sighed. “Soon, I hope.”

“But
when
?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. It’s not up to me. I wish it was.”

“Can’t you talk to the judge?”

“It’s not as simple as that. But I’m working on it. Mommy’s trying as hard as she can.”

Bella’s lower lip began to quiver. “You say that every time.”

“I know.” Kerrie Ann felt on the verge of tears herself. “But I promise, as soon as the judge says it’s okay, I’ll come get you.”

“How do I know you’re not just saying that? Like the time you were supposed to pick me up from Katie’s party and you never came?” Bella’s eyes narrowed.

Kerrie Ann’s memory of her own early years might be a blank, but her daughter had a mind like a mousetrap. Bella recalled everything, practically since birth. The incident she was referring to had happened when she was in kindergarten. While Bella was at her best friend’s birthday party, Kerrie Ann took the opportunity to get high and was so out of it that she forgot to pick Bella up. Now she felt a resurgence of the old guilt. How could she have done that to her own child? She glanced again at Mrs. Silvestre, praying she hadn’t overheard. All she needed was another black mark on her record.

“I was sick then, but I’m better now,” she said, swallowing against the knot in her throat. “I promise it won’t happen again. From now on, you can always count on me.” She hugged Bella. “Okay? You’re still my little girl, aren’t you? And I’m still your mommy?”

Bella nodded, but her small shoulders sagged. “I want to come home with you
now
, Mommy. Please?” Her voice rose to a querulous pitch.

Kerrie Ann darted another glance at Mrs. Silvestre, who was looking straight at her now. Cautiously she ventured, “Don’t you like it at George and Carol’s?” She was careful to strike a neutral tone.

Bella shrugged. “They’re nice.” She never said more than that, as if not wanting to be disloyal, but the few times Kerrie Ann had seen her with her foster parents, she’d been affectionate with them.

“What about your friends in school? You like them, too, don’t you?”

Another solemn nod.

“And I hear you have a new playhouse. How cool is that?” It killed Kerrie Ann to have to list the perks of life with the Bartholds, but she knew it was the best thing for Bella right now.

Her instincts proved correct because Bella brightened at once. “You should see it, Mommy. It has furniture and everything. And Carol made curtains. They said I could have a kitty, too.”

Kerrie Ann smiled and nodded, and her heart broke a little more.

Before long their time was up. By then they’d polished off the bag lunch that Kerrie Ann had brought—tuna-salad sandwiches, apple slices, and Ollie’s to-die-for chocolate-chip cookies—and had spent most of the remaining hour playing on the swings and jungle gym out back. Now she cuddled a sleepy Bella on her lap, reluctant to let go. Each time it became a little harder.

Finally she could delay it no longer, with Mrs. Silvestre making noises and glancing pointedly at her watch. “Time to go, kiddo. Mommy’s got a long drive ahead of her.” She kissed the top of Bella’s head.

Bella clung to her, whining. “I want to go
with
you.”

“Not this time, baby. But soon. I promise.” Kerrie Ann choked back tears. It never got any easier.

Bella started to cry, and Kerrie Ann grew a little impatient. “Come on, baby. That’s enough. You’re a big girl. Much too big for this.” She caught a sharp look from Mrs. Silvestre and quickly changed her tack. “Will you do something for Mommy?” she said more gently. “Will you draw me another picture? You can give it to me next time. I’d really like that.”

Bella nodded in mute assent, turning her woeful, glistening eyes up at her mother.

Kerrie Ann thought her heart would break. With a last hug and a kiss, she fled the room before she could—what? Scream her frustration at Mrs. Silvestre? Grab Bella and make a run for it? All she knew was that if she didn’t get out of there fast, she was sure to do something she’d regret.

Outside, Ollie’s jeep swam into view through the tears clouding her vision. She was hurrying toward it, stumbling a little, when she noticed a dark blue Mercedes sedan pulling into a slot nearby. The car came to a stop, then the driver’s-side door opened and a tall, dark-skinned man climbed out. George Barthold. A moment later his wife, Carol, emerged from the passenger side, a statuesque woman with her hair in tiny braids coiled atop her head like the elaborate headdress of some high priestess. Either they’d miscalculated the timing or they’d purposely arrived early to pick up Bella, with the intention of reminding Kerrie Ann who had the upper hand. No doubt the latter, she thought, starting to simmer.

They spotted her and exchanged a guarded look before approaching her. George Barthold smiled pleasantly as he shook her hand. “Hello, Kerrie Ann. Nice to see you. You’re looking well.” He was tall and distinguished-looking, just starting to go bald on top, with skin the same coffee-with-milk color as his wife’s. The sort of dentist who would inspire confidence in a patient facing a root canal—which Kerrie Ann felt as if she were undergoing right now. “How did it go in there?” He gestured in the direction of the clinic.