Becoming Ellen (15 page)

She went out.

Justice was handing Temerity some cash. “Here, this is enough for the store, and forty bucks for Seth. Make sure he gets a receipt and tell him I'll count the change. If we're too trusting, he won't trust us back. Hi, Ellen, did you hear?”

She nodded. “I think you're right,” she said quietly.

Justice looked up at her, uncertain what aspect of his being right she might be referring to, but understanding came to him almost before his eyes settled on her.

“I do, too,” he said sadly. “Which is why I'm vacating. See you guys later.” He started for the door.

“Justice?” Temerity called.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I guess you're an okay brother.” She smiled slyly. “But I still hate your coffee.”

Justice pulled on a stocking cap to cover his damp hair and winked at Ellen. “That's why I make it that way. Love you.” He went out.

Ellen thought,
Sibling relationships are complicated.

“You want me to write the list?” Ellen asked Temerity as Justice went out.

“I already did it,” Temerity said, pulling out a folded, printed sheet of paper. She was twitchy, turning to listen for Seth's return. “Why can't we just move him in with us?” she asked suddenly.

“Because he won't trust you, like Justice said, and he needs to be independent, I guess. And there's, you know, laws and stuff.”

Temerity did know. She nodded. “Okay, but I . . . it's so awful for him.”

Ellen smiled and actually reached out to pat Temerity's shoulder to reassure her, not even realizing that it was the first time she had done so. “It will be better now. He'll have food and some money. After tomorrow, he'll hopefully have the medicine he needs, too.”

“He sounds bad, doesn't he?” Temerity asked. “How does he look?”

“Gooey,” Ellen confirmed. “But the medicine today will help some. Let's hope. Make sure you tell him that you need him tomorrow. I'll try to find out what time tonight.” Ellen was watching the door nervously now. It wouldn't do to have Seth come back in while she was
there
. “I'm going to sleep now.”

“Okay,” said Temerity. “I'm not.”

Ellen smiled at that as she hurried back upstairs.

•   •   •

W
hen she awoke, Ellen dressed quickly and went downstairs, where Temerity was waiting for her.

“How did it go?” Ellen asked.

Temerity sighed and said, “Good. I guess. I mean, I got a dose of medicine in him, and sent the rest with him. By the time he left, he wasn't coughing so much.”

There was a large saucepan steaming on the stovetop and Ellen enjoyed the savory scent of beef stew. She went over and looked in it.

“Help yourself,” Temerity said, tracking Ellen's movements with the direction of her head. “I tried to get Seth to eat some, but he couldn't get out of here fast enough once he had that forty bucks in his hand.”

Ellen got down a bowl and used the ladle propped on the spoon rest to fill it. “He wants to buy something specific,” she said, remembering the same situation in her own life. After years of having literally no personal possessions and no food options other than the bland dishes that were served at the group foster home, when she'd received her first paycheck she had headed straight to a grocery store to buy herself a treat she'd always wanted. Braving even the trauma of being seen by the pretty, young checker when she turned to give Ellen the perfunctory customer greeting. A greeting that had died in an openmouthed gawk of horror that changed into nervous glances at the bag boy as she tried to avoid looking at Ellen's face, disfigured and drawn down on one side by the burn. The bag boy, apparently experiencing no such discomfort, had stared without embarrassment, as though he'd bought a ticket to a freak show and wanted his money's worth. Ellen remembered that, and she remembered what it was she had wanted so badly. Fancy crackers and two kinds of cheese, just like she'd seen one of the group home supervisors have with wine every evening but never share. Ellen dismissed both memories and then she added to Temerity, “I mean, probably.”

“Okay, so what about tomorrow?” Temerity asked. “By the way, there's some good bread in the bin.”

Ellen opened the wooden bread box and pulled out a heavy loaf of something brown with multicolored seeds. Nine months ago this would have frightened her, but she'd come to prefer the grainy bread over the white Wonder Bread that was all she'd ever been given. Though she missed the friendly, polka-dotted packaging, the healthier bread was more satisfying, once you learned to like it, and she had. Ellen cut herself a thick slice and dipped it in the rich beef broth. Then she carried the bowl to the table and sat down across from Temerity.

“I'll give you the address. What we have to do is send him with a note, and tell him to wait for a reply.” Ellen remembered this particular scenario in a paperback she'd read, and it seemed to suit the current situation.

“What if he doesn't want to stay?” Temerity asked.

Ellen paused with the spoon in midair. “Then we'll think of something else.”

“All right, spill about the work drama.”

Ellen took another big bite before she answered. “Well, the guy on the forklift was . . . uh, high.” The expression sounded alien to Ellen, who seldom used slang. “And I think that the dock manager sold him the drugs.”

“Really? How do you know that?” Temerity asked.

“I don't
know
. But I think so, because I saw him get them from someone and I know where he's hiding them.”

“Where?” Temerity was almost breathless.

“In a ceiling tile in the men's bathroom.”

Temerity sighed. “And how, may I ask, do you know that?”

“I clean the men's room,” Ellen said, chagrined. As an afterthought, she added, “It's always pretty disgusting.”

A spurting laugh erupted from Temerity. “I bet it is!” she said with a snicker. “And before you ask how I know that, let me just say that not being able to read the signs on restroom doors makes for some amusing moments.” She laughed again. “At least no one can accuse me of peeking! But what I meant was, what's up with the smell in those men's rooms?”

Ellen grimaced but decided to go for it. “Not the toilet seat, that's for sure,” she said, and her friend laughed harder.

Then Temerity said, “So, this guy is selling drugs at work, we think, and someone got hurt because of it, possibly. Is there any other reasonable scenario or explanation?”

Ellen thought about it. There was always another possibility, but in Eric's case only one word came to mind.

Guilty.

T
emerity had a performance that night, and three more through the weekend, so she changed and went out the door with her violin. Since it was barely six o'clock, it was too early for Ellen to leave for work, but she had something else in mind.

She dressed with slightly more care than usual, and went downstairs. She found a city map in a drawer in the kitchen, where she'd seen it months ago. She found the address she was looking for, made a note of the bus route, and put on her heavy coat. The temperature had been dropping all day, and as she stepped into the street, she thought,
It smells like snow.
Where she ever got the idea that you could smell snow, she didn't know, but she liked it.

The trip turned out to be easier than she had thought it would be. The long-term facility was in a rougher part of the city, not far from where Ellen used to live. The bus actually went past her old apartment building, and Ellen twisted in her seat, straining to look at it as she went past, but she could see nothing in the window of her old place except a dark blue curtain. Strange as it was to know that someone else was now living in that small one-room apartment, she was not displeased to see that they had hung curtains. It gave her a tremor of almost jealous pleasure to know that someone was caring for the little space. Her little hideaway before meeting Temerity and Justice.

Five blocks on, she changed buses, and a short trip dropped her near the state facility. Ellen stood looking in. There was a security door on the building, but no guard or receptionist that Ellen could make out. Her guess was that not many visitors came here, and if they did, they would know whatever routine was required.

But how would she get in? Giving this some thought, she circled the building. As she arrived back at the front, a van pulled up, on the side it said
UNION
LINEN
. The driver got out and opened the back. Carrying a large canvas sack filled, no doubt, with his product, he pressed a button next to the door. A loud buzzer sounded almost immediately and the man opened the door, blocked it with the bag, and returned to the truck to get more.

Ellen looked down at herself. She was dressed for work, and it happened that she had brought her work smock home to be washed. She quickly took it out, removed her jacket, and pulled it on. Then she slipped through the open door while the driver was in the back of the van. With any luck, if she was spotted, she'd be mistaken for a cleaner. Which, after all, she was.

Inside, there was a hallway that branched off in three directions. Ellen veered quickly left, into the most neglected-looking of the three and found a storeroom marked
JANITOR
. It was unlocked, and she gathered a bucket and filled it with a few cleansers and rags. Over her shoulder, she saw the linen man go out carrying what she assumed were dirty linens, and then she heard the security door close with a clang.

Ellen began to explore. She saw no security cameras. Near the front was a door marked
OFFICE
, the hours clearly stating nine to five, and it was after six, so it was closed and locked. Next to the door, hanging on a hook, was a clipboard, across the top of which was taped a printed notice that read
PATIENT
LIST
.

She was amazed that it was right out in the open until she realized that, unlike a normal hospital, a person would need an appointment to get in, except of course her. Ellen quickly ran a finger down the list until she found Madeline Carson's name, and next to it, the number 231.

Ellen backtracked to a stairwell door near the janitor's closet. She went up one flight and carefully pulled the door open.

It wasn't like a hospital. The rooms were smaller and there was no large nurses' station, only another small room, marked
STAFF
, with, Ellen could see when she peeked inside, file cabinets and a desk. The hallway was cluttered with shelves of medical supplies, haphazardly stacked, which made it easy for Ellen to move along without having to be exposed for more than a few yards at a time. When two people dressed in scrubs passed her, Ellen turned her back and used a rag to wipe down one of the shelves. They didn't even glance in her direction.

It took her only a few minutes to find room 231, but what she had not expected was to find it filled with people. Ellen stepped back hastily to a cubby between stacked linens on the shelving and waited. The door was cracked open, and Ellen could hear voices from inside. Straining, she could make out the controlled calmness of Serena Hoffman, though the conversation itself was no more than a muted murmur.

In a few moments, four people exited the room. Lydia was there, in the arms of the older man Ellen had seen at the dinner table with her, her tear-streaked face buried in his shoulder. The plump, gray-haired woman was there as well, and she kept one hand on Lydia's back, massaging gently, her eyes red-rimmed, revealing that she, too, had been crying. At the end of the pack was Serena Hoffman.

The social worker was speaking. “Lydia, sweetie, I need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Rush. Let's go back to the little waiting room and you can look at a book, okay?”

The child's face was the definition of dumbstruck; that she couldn't understand what was happening was so clear to Ellen. They started down the hall and Ellen leaned against the wall, peering at the party through a small space between the linens and the next shelf. As the grim procession passed, everyone kept their eyes either on the floor or straight-ahead.

Except for Lydia. Her face against the man's chest was turned in Ellen's direction and in the two seconds that Ellen was in her eye line, she saw the girl spot her, and recognition and hope lit up the child's face. She sat up a bit, but Ellen put one finger to her lips. Lydia's eyes darted around at the other adults, but she nodded, and then they were gone down the hallway.

When they turned the corner, Ellen followed after them, passing the doorway to the small waiting room, as the older woman was explaining to Lydia that they would be right back. Ellen stopped just behind a deserted monitor that blocked most of her. She spotted a trash can and opened the lid, pulling out the bag, as though changing it, as the three grown-ups exited and walked a few feet in the opposite direction, where they began to speak in hushed voices.

“So, it's unlikely that she'll regain consciousness if she doesn't within the next week,” Serena was saying.

Mr. Rush responded. “And how will that affect us trying to adopt Lydia? I mean, it doesn't seem like she has anyone else.”

Serena sighed, and Mrs. Rush leaned into her husband for support. He put an arm over her shoulder. “We have to wait to be certain that no one does show up. The state is required to perform due diligence looking for relatives, but right now there are no leads, which is good . . . and bad.”

“Why?” Mrs. Rush asked steadily, but in such a gentle voice that Ellen wished she would say more.

“Because unless Madeline Carson either signs off on her daughter or, well, dies, Lydia won't be eligible for adoption.”

“Where does that leave Lydia?” Mrs. Rush asked.

“Well, she can stay with you for up to two years, and then we would need to place her in a different home.”

“And how, in God's name, is that supposed to benefit the child?” Mr. Rush asked.

“The idea is for the child to not become overly attached to any family so that when it is time to go back, it won't be too much of a jolt.”

There was a long sigh from Mr. Rush, and he muttered, “Insanity. How can Lydia ‘go back' to her mother? She's in a vegetative state! Poor woman.” He sounded so genuinely sorry for Maddy that Ellen instantly liked him.

“The system isn't perfect, I know,” Serena said quickly. “But I'm sure you can understand, if it was your child and you were ill, you wouldn't want someone else to be able to take them from you while you were unable to act. That's the reason for the law.” She dropped her head and studied her ever-present clipboard. Very quietly, she said, “I'm sorry. In view of what the doctor just told us, I'd like you to fill out some further paperwork. You are willing to commit to long-term with Lydia, for now?”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Rush emphatically. “For as long as she needs us.”

“Good. Um, I saw an office with a desk back here, let's go in and get this done, it will only take a few minutes.”

Mr. Rush let go of his wife and walked back to the waiting-room door. “Lydia, sweetie? We just have to sign some papers, we'll be right back. You okay?”

Ellen couldn't see Lydia, but she guessed that the girl had responded, because Mr. Rush smiled, said, “Good girl,” and turned back to the two women. He extended an arm. “Ladies.” They preceded him down the hall and the three of them disappeared.

With an eagerness that amounted to yearning, Ellen slipped into the tiny waiting room. Lydia was sitting in a full-size chair, her feet dangling well above the stained carpet. Her face, turned to the wall, was blank of everything except confusion.

“Hi,” said Ellen.

Lydia turned toward her and her expression transformed. She leapt from the chair and rushed the few feet to Ellen, wrapping her small arms around Ellen's thick thighs. Ellen responded, reaching down and patting Lydia on the back. Then, on impulse, she lifted the child and sat down in one of the chairs with her in her lap.

“I'm so glad you're here,” Lydia whispered. “Do you think my mom is going to wake up?”

Ellen shrugged, feeling the child's weight shift against her breasts with the movement. “I don't know,” she said honestly. “I haven't had a mom since I was five.”

“Did your mom go to sleep, too?” Lydia asked, pulling back enough to look Ellen in the face.

“No,” Ellen told her. “My mom left, when I was smaller than you, and I went to live with some other people, too.”

“Were they nice?”

Ellen's throat squeezed so tightly that she almost choked, and the scars on her upper arm ached. “Not like your people. The Rushes are special, I think. Do you like them?”

Lydia nodded, a little uncertain. “They have a really big house, it's scary.”

Ellen chuckled a bit at that. She could just imagine that Lydia had probably shared a small apartment or room and even a bed with her mom. The Rushes' home would seem vast.

“Do you have your own room?” she asked Lydia.

The girl nodded. “It's really far to the bathroom, and scary at night.”

“I'll just bet,” Ellen said. “But I know that you are a very brave girl. Remember, I saw you being brave, so I know. I think you'll be safe there. It just takes a little while to get used to it. Do you understand that?”

Lydia was watching her with her round brown eyes so open that Ellen felt like she could have just walked right in through the irises. The girl nodded slowly. “It's nice to play outside. And there's always food there!” Her voice rose slightly with this wonderful proclamation. “I miss Mama, though.” The last was spoken so quietly that Ellen felt the words more than heard them. She had no response.

“I'll tell you what,” Ellen said, worried that the grown-ups would return and she would be caught trespassing, or stalking, or whatever it was she was doing. “I'll come and see you there, okay? But don't tell the nice people I was here today. I just wanted to make sure you're okay.”

Lydia's smile showed that she was glad to share a secret. She put one finger to her lips, the way Ellen had done, and said, “Shhh.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Good girl. I have to go now. But I'll come check on you, okay?”

Lydia looked into her eyes and laid one hand on Ellen's cheek. Ellen winced before she remembered that the horrible scar was mostly gone. “Do you promise?” Lydia whispered.

“I promise,” Ellen said. She stood up again, hugged the fragile Lydia to her, and then put her down on the chair. “I'll see you soon, Lydia Carson.” And she slipped back out into the hallway, where she found a spot to wait until the adults came and took the little girl away. Her last glimpse of the child was a tiny wave over Mr. Rush's shoulder.

When they were gone, Ellen found Maddy's room again and went inside. It was small, with two beds. The second was not occupied. The room was cluttered with equipment, which left Ellen feeling bulbous and invasive. Maddy lay completely lifeless. Ellen stood for a few minutes, and then she leaned forward, the way she'd seen Temerity do, and whispered, “You don't need to stay if it's too hard. She's going to be okay.”

Then she turned and left that sad place.