Untethered (26 page)

W
hat's going to happen to me now?” Morgan asked, as Char pulled away from the police station. The two girls were in the backseat, Morgan leaning against Allie.

“I honestly don't know,” Char said. “But we'll figure it all out once we get back to Mount Pleasant. For now, you're going to spend tonight with me and Allie, in a hotel. We'll drive back in the morning, and you'll come to our house. After that, I'm not sure.”

“Do I have to go back to Ohio?”

“No. That I can promise. You don't have to go back there.”

“Do I have to go back home?”

Allie sat straight and found Char's eyes in the rearview mirror. She shook her head no.

Char raised a shoulder:
I can't promise that
.

Allie widened her eyes:
Please. You can't make her go back to them.

Char angled her head toward Morgan:
Don't make a scene in front of her
.

“What if they still don't want me?” Morgan asked. “Will I have to go back to foster care?”

Allie bent sideways and whispered something into the little girl's ear, then straightened again and looked at Char in the mirror, her eyes still wide:
We can't let anything bad happen to her
.

Char angled her head toward Morgan again, then turned back to the road:
You tend to the girl, I'll tend to the road. We can discuss this later
.

“For now, Morgan, you're staying with us,” Char said. “I don't know what will happen after that, but for tonight, it's you, me, and Allie. Okay?”

“I want it to
always
be you, me, and Allie,” Morgan said. She said it more to herself than to Char, and she didn't look up for a response.

•   •   •

I
n the hotel room, Char texted Lindy to let her know she had the girls with her. And that she knew now, for certain, who had called the police.

Char:
You promised you wouldn't do that.

Lindy:
I wanted my child found.

Char:
What if they had pressed charges?

Lindy:
I'm disappointed they didn't.

Char, her mouth open, stared at her cell phone.

Lindy:
I suppose if the police won't punish her, I'll have to. I don't imagine you're up for the task.

Char:
I'm not sure harsh punishment is the right thing, in this situation.

Lindy:
Well, I am sure, and I am the parent in charge of the girl's future. I need to make sure she knows right from wrong.

Char set her phone on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. “Well,” she whispered to the device, “I am the technically former stepparent in charge of the girl right now. And I need to make sure she knows she's wonderful.” She clicked the text conversation closed, set the phone on the bedside table, stretched onto her back and closed her eyes.

F
or an hour, Char lay in bed, listening to the sound of her slumbering roommates. Her mother used to tell her that even if she couldn't sleep, it was beneficial to lie there, resting. Char had never bought that. Sliding out from under the covers, she lifted her cell phone and the room key from the bedside table, slipped on her pants, shoes, and a sweatshirt, and eased her way out the door and into the hallway.

There was a text from Will:
Fine, I won't call, but let me know the second you have news.

So sorry,
she texted back.
Just seeing this now. Have been driving, then busy getting the girls settled. I have them. They're fine. Relatively speaking.

Will:
No falling-apart mothers at this end who can't be woken. Call immediately.

Char ducked into a room marked “Ice/Vending,” pushed the door closed, and called her brother.

“You're awake?” she asked, when he answered. “It's only seven and you don't have class today. I figured you'd be asleep until noon.”

“I have a way of not being able to sleep when I learn my niece has fled the state and my sister has driven after her with a crazy woman as her copilot.”

“She's not crazy, Will.”

“We can get to that later. So, tell all.”

She did, and when she was finished, he let out a low whistle. “Wow. So, now what are you going to do?”

“Well, for starters, I was lying in bed for a while, listening to those two snore. And I was thinking about something Sarah said to me, actually. About being strong. And I was thinking, she's right, I am strong. Usually. But I haven't been, lately. Since Bradley died, I haven't actually taken one definitive action. I've only been reacting. To Allie and Lindy.

“I've been waiting around for them to say what they want. Hoping Allie will say she wants to stay, hoping Lindy will say she can. But I've never said out loud what
I
wanted. I didn't want to risk being rejected by Allie. I didn't want to risk making Lindy feel threatened and having her take Allie sooner. I've let this fifteen-year-old girl run all over the place with three . . . losers . . . because I haven't wanted to risk making her feel disrespected in her own home.

“I've been feeling . . . unmoored since Bradley died. I used to belong to people, Will. They used to belong to me. Now I'm just . . . floating. Adrift. Untethered.

“And I didn't realize this before, but it's so obvious to me now: Allie's been feeling the same way. I was thinking all this time that she has a choice. Me or Lindy. Which is a lot better than I have. It just hit me, though, that with all of Lindy's vacillations and excuses about whether and when she wants Allie to move out there, and my refusal to say out loud how badly I want her to stay, she probably
doesn't feel like she has a choice at all. She probably feels like she's waiting to be chosen.

“It's been four months now, and no one has chosen her. And I can't imagine how that must make her feel. I need to come right out and tell her, ‘I want you to stay. I'd love for you to stay. For as long as you want.' And if she wants that, I need to call Lindy up and ask her to say yes. Fly down there and beg her, if that's what it takes.

“And I need to let Allie know that if she doesn't want it, or if Lindy says no, I'm not going to fall apart. She and I can text, we can e-mail, we can visit each other during school breaks. She can fly up to see me, if her mom lets her, or I can fly to LA. I've been walking around all this time, telling myself my life will end if I lose her too, and I'm sure she's picked up on it. And because I've been too afraid to address the topic with her, I haven't been able to assure her that she doesn't need to worry about me.

“So, to answer your question, that's what I'm going to do. Take action. Speak up. Fight for the kid.”

She waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she said, “You think it's a bad idea.”

“No!” he said. “I was waiting for you to finish.”

“I'm finished.”

“And I'm thrilled,” he said. “I think Allie will be, too. No matter what her answer is. Or what Lindy's is.” They were quiet for a while, and then he said, “I know it was a terrible day for you. But this isn't a bad ending. If this is what it took for you to realize what you need to do, then I guess I'm glad it happened.”

“That's not exactly the ending,” she said. “There's more.”

“More?”

“About eighty pounds and a thousand freckles more.”

“Yes! I was hoping!”

“You don't think it's . . . insane?” she asked.

“Of course I think it's insane. What does that have to do with it?”

“I'm serious, Will. You don't think I'd be, I don't know, doing it for the wrong reasons?”

“What would those be?”

“All the things I just said, about the, you know—”

“Oh,” he said, “you mean the whole untethered thing, no one to belong to anymore?”

“Right.”

“And what are the right reasons?” he asked.

“For starters? She needs me. She doesn't have anyone, either. And I would be good for her. I know all her stuff, and it doesn't scare me. The amount of work it'll take doesn't scare me. The whole honeymoon-is-over, lack-of-affection thing doesn't scare me. Been there, done that, lived to tell about it.”

“True enough,” he said. “What else? You said that was ‘for starters.'”

“I want to be a mother,” Char said. “Before I met Allie, I could have taken it or left it. But that's because I didn't know what it would be like. When I was tearing down I-75 after those girls, my heart racing, head pounding, worried sick about where they were, I realized something: I would rather worry like that about a child every day than not have a child to worry about.

“Now that I've had a kid take up so many of my waking hours each day, so much of my mental and emotional energy, I don't know how I'd live without it. I don't want to live without it. I'm full when Allie's with me. I'm empty when she's not.”

“Yeah,” Will said, “I can see how that would be true.”

“And there's one other thing. Yesterday, I was having lunch with Colleen. I was telling her something about Allie. And she told me
that for all my talk about only being Allie's stepmom, I talk like I'm a real mother. . . .” She felt a lump rising in her throat. “And . . .” she tried, but she couldn't form any words.

Will said something quietly, but Char didn't hear it, because as he spoke, the door to the room opened and a thirty-something man walked in, carrying an ice bucket. He wore dress pants, a white undershirt, and socks. His hair was tousled and his pants were only buttoned, not zipped. His belt, unbuckled, was hanging from two loops in the back.

“Uh . . .” he said, glancing at Char.

Char stepped away from the ice machine. “Be my guest,” she whispered, her voice still not cooperating.

He filled the bucket and turned to leave. “Thanks,” he said.

Char nodded. “Sorry about that,” she said into the phone.

“Tell me again where you are?” Will asked.

“In the ice machine room down the hall from our room.”

“And tell me why you're in there?”

“I didn't want to wake the girls by talking in the room, but I didn't want to go too far, in case they need me.”

“That's what Colleen was talking about,” he said.

“Well, she was talking more about my emotions, but—”

“She was talking about how, even though there's likely a couch in the little alcove where the elevators are, and some comfy chairs in the lobby, you're standing in a fluorescent-lit ice room, so you can be close in case they need you. She's right, you do talk like a mother. Because you think like one. Because you are one.

“And you're good at it. You're good for Allie. And you'll be good for Morgan—you're absolutely right about that. We engineers don't say things like ‘It's your calling,' so I'm not going to. But if I were some touchy-feely humanities prof, I'd totally say that to you.”

“Thanks,” she said, laughing. “That's the nicest thing you've ever said you would say to me. If you were a person who said that kind of thing.”

Will laughed, too.

“So, do you still think it's insane?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“But . . . you also still think I should do it?”

“Absolutely.”

C
har finally dozed off around eight. Morgan was awake and squirming by nine thirty, but Allie kept her occupied with cartoons and room service. A little after eleven, Char finally dragged herself out of bed and headed for the coffeemaker.

“A huge part of me wants to stay another day,” she said to Allie. “You two could chill out and I could get more sleep. But I really think we need to get back to Mount Pleasant.”

“I don't think she'll care,” Allie said, pointing. Morgan was curled on her side, knees drawn almost to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. They regarded her for a moment, and Char was about to sit beside the little girl and ask if she needed anything, when Morgan rose and walked into the bathroom.

“It's a stress thing,” Allie told Char while Morgan was gone. “She gets those stomachaches, remember? She gets really tired, too, when she's worried about stuff. I told her it's just as well—the tiredness part. She can sleep all the way home. Not like there's anything else to do.”

Char offered to find a pharmacy so they could pick up an
antacid, but Allie shook her head. “The only cure is to tell her she doesn't have to go back. She's afraid about what's going to happen.” Allie zipped up her duffel bag. “What is going to happen?”

“Let's talk about that,” Char said. “But not where she can overhear us.”

Allie turned pale. “Is it bad?” she whispered. “Do you already know? Is it foster care?”

Char pushed a strand of hair out of Allie's eyes. “No, it's not that,” she said. “And it's nothing certain. I have an idea, but—”

Morgan came out of the bathroom then, and Char and Allie bent over Allie's duffel bag, pretending to be fiddling with the zipper.

Outside, Allie told Morgan that she could use Allie's iPod for the entire trip home if she sat in the back and let Allie sit up front with Char. Morgan squealed in delight and clapped her hands. Before they had been on the highway for an hour, she was asleep, headphones in her ears.

“Okay,” Allie said, after checking to confirm the girl was truly sleeping. “Tell me. What idea do you have?”

“Uncle Will called earlier,” Char whispered. Though Allie had checked on Morgan already, Char looked in the rearview mirror to see if there was any movement in the backseat. There was none, so she went on. “When I was at the desk, checking out. He talked to one of his colleagues. A law professor. He thinks there's a way for me to look after Morgan—”

“What?” Allie whispered, her eyes and mouth wide. She seemed to be using every bit of self-restraint she had to keep from yelling. “Oh my God!” she whispered. “When did you—? What about—? How can you—? Oh my God!”

“I haven't asked the Crews yet,” Char said. “But I'm hoping they'll say yes.”

“So, we would adopt her?”

“No,” Char said. “I don't think they'd agree to letting me adopt her, because they'd have to go to the court and give up their parental rights first, and that . . . comes with some risks for them. But there's another option. It allows me to be responsible for Morgan, and everything in her life, and allows the Crews to avoid this formal, public production, which they don't want.”

“Why don't they want that? What risks—?”

“It's a long story, with details you really don't need to know and they wouldn't want me to repeat. Let's just leave it at this: there might be a way that I could raise Morgan, and they could raise Stevie. And between the two families, we could give each of these kids what they need.”

Char checked the backseat again. Morgan's breaths were still deep and slow. “We're going to need to talk about that, though. About the things Morgan needs. I don't want to get into it now, but you and I need to have a serious, and confidential, talk about . . . her . . . issues.”

“You're talking about the cutting.”

Char nodded. “How long have you known about it?”

“Only since I picked her up in Toledo,” Allie said. “She said she was worried about telling me before, in case I started not liking her. She says that's what happened with her parents. Why they sent her away. I didn't really know what to say. I hope I didn't say the wrong thing.”

“I don't know what you should have said, either,” Char said. “But whatever you said, I'm sure it was fine. We'll talk about it more, though. About what to say, what not to say, how to help. You, me, Morgan, and her therapist. Assuming the Crews say yes, I mean. We can't jump the—”

“Why would they say no?” Allie asked. “If they don't want her and you do?”

“I can't think of a reason,” Char said. “But people don't always do what you think they're going to do. So, I'm trying not to get too excited about it until I've talked to them. And I think you'd better do the same.”

“Pull over now!” Allie said. “Pull over at the next exit and call them! Why wait? Why not find out as soon as we can? And then we can wake Morgan up and tell her the good news! She'll flip!”

“I think it's a conversation that's better had in person,” Char said. “Or at least later, when we're not all on the highway, trying to focus on driving. Dave and Sarah are probably still on their way home, too.”

“Are you sure?” Allie said. “We're seven hours from home! Are you sure you want to wait that long?”

“I'm sure one of us doesn't want to,” Char said, smiling. She patted Allie's leg. “But I want to talk to you about it a little more, anyway, before I broach the subject with them.”

“I'm in,” Allie said. “I don't care why they gave her away, what she did, how many issues she has. So, if that's what you—”

“No, it's not that. I figured you'd feel that way. What I wanted to talk to you about is this: I would love it if you would stay in Mount Pleasant until the end of high school. Whether the Crews allow me to keep Morgan or not, I would love to have you.

“If you don't want to, that's fine. It won't hurt my feelings at all. I won't fall apart. Your mom is your mom, and I will totally understand if you want to be with her. But no matter what you decide to do, I want you to know that
I want you with me
. I want to be very clear about that. I should've been clear about it months ago.”

“Yes! I want to stay!”

“Even if the Crews—”

“It's not about Morgan,” Allie said. “It's about . . . everything. I want to stay.”

Char didn't want to wake Morgan so she mouthed “Yaaaaaay!” to the windshield and turned to Allie, her smile wider than she'd known it could get. “Yay!” she whispered, grabbing the girl's hand and squeezing.

Allie smiled back, squeezed back, and whispered, “Yay!”

They grinned at each other and held hands and whispered more “yay”s for a while longer, and then Char said, “I'm going to talk to your mom about this. Give it my best shot. But there's a chance she'll say no. And what if she does? What if your mom wants you to go home at the end of the school year? Or sooner, even. Will you feel, you know, left out? If you have to go, and Morgan's here with me?”

“Yes,” Allie said. “Absolutely.”

It wasn't the answer Char was hoping for. “Oh,” she said. “Well then, should I reconsider—?”

“What? Of course not!”

“I'm confused,” Char said.

“Don't decide not to go through with it because you're worried about me feeling left out. That's a terrible reason! I'd get over it. I want Morgan to be with you. She needs to be with you. I want to be with both of you, but if I can't be, that shouldn't ruin it for her.”

“You're an exceptionally caring person, Allie—”

“Don't be so quick to say how great I am. It's easy for me to say go ahead without me, because I know it'll never come to that. My mom doesn't want me there, CC. When I was with her over spring break, it was so clear. She hasn't done a thing to the guest room—you know, ‘my room.'” Allie put finger quotes around the words.

“She hasn't made a single change to her life so that she can have
a kid there. She's got five destination weddings booked for July alone. When I told her there was no way I was going to stay with a nanny, she gave me this funny look, like why would I need to stay with a nanny?

“I told her, ‘You know, since I'm maybe moving here at the end of June, and those weddings are in July.' And she had this panicked look on her face, like I was collecting some debt she forgot she owed. Honestly, I think she's been hoping I'll ask her if I can stay with you.”

Char laughed. “I've been hoping the same thing. I was so afraid to ask you—”

“And I was afraid to ask you,” Allie said. “I didn't want you to feel like you were stuck with me. And stuck in Michigan. I knew if I asked, you'd say yes, even if you wanted to say no.”

“I'm sorry I've been so stupid about it,” Char said. “To think I've been moping about it all this time.”

“I was moping about it, too!”

“Is that what all of that was about, before break?” Char asked. “All the tension? All the hiding out in your room? That whole thing about my carrying out your mom's orders? Being gutless?”

Allie nodded. “I wanted you to act like you were in charge of me. I wanted you to
want to
be in charge of me. I love my mom. I do. But she's not cut out for full-time parenting. You are. I wanted you to act like my parent.”

“And I was trying so hard
not
to parent you,” Char said, “because I didn't want to be disrespectful, and I . . . never mind. It doesn't matter now.” She laughed. “We're such idiots. Me, most of all. I'm a grown-up. I should know better.” She laughed again.

Char waited for Allie to laugh with her. But the girl dropped her shoulders and sighed instead. “I think my mom will be relieved to
be let off the hook.” Turning to the window, she dropped her voice lower. “All this time, since my dad died, you've been waiting every day for me to say out loud that I want to stay in Mount Pleasant. Hoping I'd say I wanted to stay with you. I think she's been hoping for me to say the exact same thing. You didn't want to come right out and say you want me. She hasn't wanted to come right out and say she doesn't.

“This will be a win/win for her. She doesn't get stuck with the kid, and she doesn't have to admit she didn't want to get stuck with the kid. She'll be able to spin this as something she's doing for me. ‘My daughter wanted to stay up north and help Charlotte look after this poor little orphan girl. And what kind of mother would I be if I said no to that?'” She turned her head farther, moving her face out of Char's view.

Char rubbed the girl's leg. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Allie said, in the too-quick way that showed it was anything but. She brought her arm up to the window and rested her head against it. She didn't say any more, and soon her eyes closed and she was asleep.

Char drove in silence for more than two hours while Allie alternately dozed and stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Morgan woke for a while, and the three of them chatted halfheartedly about nothing. Char spotted a roadside ice cream place and they all acted thrilled about it, though Char and Allie finished only half of their orders and Morgan stopped after about three bites and put a hand on her stomach.

Char felt guilty for making the girl spend her trip in anxious exhaustion. But she knew that if she called the Crews with her idea and they said no, the drive would be that much worse for Morgan.

Both girls slept after the ice cream stop. After a few more hours,
Char filled the car tank with gas and bought herself a large coffee and some plain crackers. She munched and sipped in silence, checking her passengers every few minutes and saying a prayer of thanks that they were safe, and with her.

A little south of Toledo, Allie lifted her head, swiveling to check on Morgan, who was snoring lightly. Turning to the front, Allie whispered, “I'm going to stop hanging out with Kate and the guys. I'm going to spend more time with Sydney, like before. I need to set a better example for Morgan.”

“Okay,” Char said, trying to remain neutral.

Allie grinned. “Oh, come on.”

“What?” Char said. “Okay, fine. I'm glad you're going to stop hanging out with them.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because I agree with you, okay? They're not a good influence. The smoking, the lack of manners. The fact that they're not serious about school.”

“There you go,” Allie said, smiling widely now and patting Char's knee. “Good job.”

“What?”

“You're
supposed
to tell me when you don't think I'm hanging out with the right kind of people. That's what parents do.”

Char's mouth fell open. “But all this time, any time I said one little thing, even joking, about them, you were so . . .”