Casting About (20 page)

T
he following morning over breakfast Clarissa informed us, “Oh, by the way, Mama can't come to my Christmas play tomorrow night—because she has a date.” This was related without an ounce of disappointment in her voice.

A
date?
Adam was right—this woman was hot to trot. She'd certainly wasted no time hooking up with somebody.

Adam looked up from his scrambled eggs and bacon. “Oh, okay. Well, you're going to have a lot of groupies there anyway.”

“What are groupies?” she asked.

Adam laughed. “People who adore you and are anxious to see your stage debut.”

Clarissa glanced at me with a smile and I sent her a wink.

“Are you at the yarn shop today?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, just till two, so I'll get Clarissa after school.”

“When do we get to put up the tree?” she asked.

“Friday night,” I told her. “And it's turned into a bit of a celebration. Your grandmother's coming, along with Aunt Dora and Saren. So I'm going to have Christmas cookies and eggnog.”

Clarissa clapped her hands together. “Oh, wow, it'll be a tree-trimming party, just like in one of my books. Will Gracie come too?”

“I'll ask her when I see her today. I'm sure she will.”

“That'll be fun,” Adam said, getting up to clear the table. “Ten minutes, Clarissa, and we have to get going.”

She headed to get her backpack as I began filling the dishpan with soapy water.

Walking back into the kitchen, Clarissa asked, “Do I have to go with Mama on Christmas?”

I'd been wondering about that too but hadn't brought it up with Adam.

“No. The new custody papers state that this Christmas is spent with me, but that your mom has you on Sunday because it's her weekend for visitation.”

I could have sworn I heard her mutter “Good” as she walked out the back door.

 

Hearing the wind chimes, I glanced up from the computer to see Grace stroll into Spinning Forward, the usual two lattes in her hand.

“You're a lifesaver,” I told her, raising my arms above my head and stretching.

“Lots of mail orders?” she asked, placing the cups on the coffee table.

“Yeah, must be that time of year. When Christmas approaches people begin to think how nice a personalized stocking would be for a child or grandchild. Dora and I can barely keep up, but I'm sure not complaining.” I plopped onto the sofa and reached to uncap my coffee. “So what's up with you?”

“Well, I'm not sure I can top your news about Carrie Sue.”

I laughed. I'd filled Grace in on the phone that morning before I left for the yarn shop.

“By the way, do we have to endure her presence tomorrow evening at the Christmas play?”

“No—seems she has a date.”

“A date? Damn. What? She's been here less than two weeks and that woman already has a date? Christ, how does she do it?
I
can't seem to get a date.”

I shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Is he from the island?”

“Haven't a clue. I suppose she could have gone trawling in Gainesville. Might be somebody from there.”

“Damn,” Grace repeated. “Ah well,” she sighed, “maybe I'm just destined to be a spinster.”

I laughed. “Do they still call it that?”

“Actually, probably not.
Loser
might be more appropriate.”

“Aw, Gracie, you're too hard on yourself. Look at you—extremely attractive, very intelligent, great sense of humor—Mr. Right will find you. It all has to do with timing.”

“Yup, and my time will probably be when I'm in a nursing home, hobbling around with a walker.”

Grinning, I said, “From some of the stories I hear, social life in a nursing home can be pretty active.”

The wind chimes tinkled again and Miss Polly walked in.

“How're you gals doing?” she asked, joining us on the sofa.

“Great,” I said. “I can make some coffee, would you like some?”

“No, thanks. I just popped by between customers to pick up that yarn you ordered for me.”

“It's in the back room,” I told her, going to find it.

“So he really sold it, huh?” I heard Grace say as I walked back into the shop.

“Who sold what?”

“Dick sold the bookshop,” Polly explained. “Says he's been ready for retirement since he put it up for sale.”

I totaled the amount for the yarn and slipped it into a shopping bag. “Oh, that's good. I know he was ready.”

“Who's buying it?” Grace asked.

“Some fellow from Georgia. Seems he has a shop there as well. I heard he has somebody to manage that one for him while he gets this one set up.”

“That's great,” Grace said. “I'd hate to see the island without a bookshop.”

“Yeah, that reminds me—I need to pop over there and pick up some books for Clarissa for Christmas.”

Polly reached for the shopping bag. “Thanks. I need to get back for a color. See you gals later.”

“Hmm,” Grace said.

“What?”

“I'm just wondering if Mr. Bookshop Owner has a wife he'll be bringing with him.”

 

I'd put chicken breasts in the oven for supper and Clarissa was sitting at the table doing her homework. I smiled as I recalled her dislike for chicken when she first came to us. Based on the way she ate it now, I wondered if it had had more to do with just being ornery rather than a true dislike for chicken.

“Do we leave for the play at six o'clock?” she asked.

I nodded as I picked up my knitting bag and headed to the great room. “Yeah, that's why we're eating at five tonight.”

A few minutes later she joined me on the sofa, watching as I knitted.

I looked up and smiled. “Tomorrow I'll teach you how to bind off and then your scarf will be finished and ready to wear. What's your next project?”

“I thought maybe I'd do another scarf. But this time for Zoe, and I can mail it up to her.”

“That's a great idea. It's good to keep practicing with your knit and purl rows, but I bet Zoe will love that. Plus it'll keep her warm up there. How's she doing lately?”

“Good,” Clarissa said, leaning in closer to get a better look as I knitted. “She really likes Julie. She got to go shopping with her to pick out things for the baby's room, and the crib that they got—it was the one that Zoe liked best.”

Smart woman, I thought. Including Zoe in the process. I was coming to understand children didn't require as much as I'd always thought. Attention, affection, and most of all love. The rest of it pretty much took care of itself. For a woman who a year ago considered herself maternally challenged, I was surprised with the daily insight that I seemed to be absorbing.

“Do they have any names picked out yet?” I questioned.

“Zoe says it'll probably be either Caleb or Zac. She likes Zac because then they'd both have a name starting with the letter ‘z.' I like Zac better too.”

“Me too. That's a very nice name.”

“What's that you're doing there?” Clarissa questioned.

“This stitch is called knit two together. See, watch,” I said, inserting my needle into the two stitches and knitting them together to slide onto the opposite needle.

“You ended up with one stitch.”

“Right. It's pretty simple. You might want to try this on your next scarf.”

“I like that,” she said, gently touching the one stitch. “They were two—but they became one.”

It wasn't lost on me that this could be a metaphor to describe the way my relationship with Clarissa was evolving.

C
hristmas evening I sat on the sofa beside Adam marveling at how incredibly different the holiday had been this year with a child around. I took a sip of wine and smiled at Clarissa. She was involved playing with one of the toys she'd received.

I'd been awakened that morning with shouts of “Santa came! He came!”

Adam and I had made our way to the great room to find Clarissa literally jumping up and down, unable to contain her excitement. Not to be outdone, Billie was running back and forth barking.

Despite not having my first cup of coffee, I laughed at the chaos that reminded me of my own Christmases as a child. The saying
Christmas brings out the child in all of us
took on new meaning for me.

“Look, look,” she'd told us. “Santa brought me my very own TV and DVD player.”

Adam and I had thought maybe Clarissa would like that for her bedroom, and it was an obvious hit.

Not at all familiar with Christmas-morning protocol for children, Adam had explained that the gifts that weren't wrapped were from Santa and the rest were from us.

“And he brought me all the Clementine books in the series, and look,” she said, holding up cases of DVDs, “Movies to watch on my new player.”

“I'd say Santa thought you were a very good girl,” Adam had told her. “But remember the rule—now Monica and I get to have our coffee and then you can open the rest of the gifts.”

All of it had been more fun than I could have imagined. It made me recall so many Christmases when I was single and working in Boston. Either I'd take off with a friend skiing or sometimes, exhausted from working so hard, I just slept the day away. Today was something I'd always remember—especially when Clarissa opened the box that held the sweater I'd made for her. Not only did that gift earn me a huge hug, she declared she loved it so much she had to wear it right away and promptly put it on over her nightgown.

Following the gift opening and breakfast, we had enjoyed a wonderful Christmas dinner at Opal's house with Aunt Dora, Saren, and Gracie. More gifts were exchanged and the true meaning of the day was when Grace sat at the piano and played Christmas carols, with the rest of us gathered around singing. Family and friends sharing love.

I glanced down at Clarissa on the carpet, still wearing the sweater I'd knitted her. I could be wrong, but I was willing to bet anything this was also one of her best Christmases.

The doorbell chiming interrupted my thoughts and I glanced at Adam, wondering who could be visiting on Christmas night.

“Oh, Carrie Sue,” I heard him say at the front door.

After such a perfect day, my only thought was
shit!

“Hey, y'all,” she proclaimed in her singsong voice, breezing into the room. “Merry Christmas.”

I looked up to see her stumble but catch herself before walking forward as she deposited brightly colored shopping bags in front of Clarissa.

“Y'all didn't think I'd forget my daughter on Christmas, did ya?”

Why not?
I wondered.
You failed to acknowledge her birthday, and here it is 8:00 at night, with the holiday almost over.

Adam was clearly flustered with the intrusion. “Oh…well…that's nice of you, Carrie Sue. Isn't it, Clarissa?”

With a bewildered look on her face, she glanced down at the bags and nodded.

Plunking on the sofa beside me, Carrie Sue said in a raised voice, “Well, go on. Open them.”

It was then that I detected the strong odor of alcohol floating toward me.
My God, she's loaded,
I thought.
Comes here on Christmas night after probably drinking all day.

Clarissa reached into a bag and pulled out a gaudy black velvet dress. Frilly red ruffles circled the hem, and from where I sat, the dipping neckline appeared to be inappropriate for a nine-year-old. Clearly, the dress wasn't Clarissa's style.

“Well, can't ya tell your mama thank you?” Carrie Sue urged. “Go ahead, open the other bags.”

“Thank you,” Clarissa mumbled, reaching for another bag. She pulled out an iPod. “What is it?” she asked.

“Oh, sugar…you need to get with it. All the kids have those. It's to listen to music.”

“Oh,” was all Clarissa said.

As she reached for another bag, Carrie Sue looked up at Adam. “Hey, handsome, where's your manners? Aren't ya gonna offer me a bit of Christmas cheer?”

Poor Adam looked ready to explode. “I'd say you've probably had more than your quota of
cheer
today.”

Carrie Sue tossed her head as she attempted to pull down the skirt that was somewhere around her mid-thigh. “Oh, Adam. Always was Mr. Prim and Proper. And I think I'll be the judge of my intake. Christ, it's Christmas, lighten up.”

“We have coffee, if you'd like some,” he told her. “That's it.”

“Well, never you mind. I'm headed downtown to meet somebody when I leave here—somebody not as stodgy as you.”

“That's enough, Carrie Sue.” Adam looked down at Clarissa. “Open the rest of the gifts, honey.”

The next bag produced a DVD featuring a vampire movie.

“I don't like vampires,” Clarissa stated, no apology in her tone.

“Oh, Clarissa Jo. For goodness sake, you really
do
need to grow up.”

Grow up? The kid was barely nine! I had all I could do to keep my mouth shut.

The final bag held some sort of video game for the computer. By the looks of the cover, the violence it contained was better suited for a teen boy.

“Thank you,” Clarissa mumbled again.

Carrie Sue stood up, wobbling a bit due to her four-inch heels and an excess of the cheer Adam had mentioned.

Without so much as a hug or kiss for Clarissa, she headed for the door. “Okay, y'all. I'm off to celebrate Christmas. Oh, and Adam, I meant to tell you—I have something going on tomorrow. Would it be all right if I don't take Clarissa as planned?”

I saw him shrug. “That's fine with me, but you can't take her the following weekend either. We have plans.”

“Okay,” she said, not an ounce of regret in her voice. “Then I'll call you. Looks like it'll be mid-January when I take her.”

And with that, she was gone.

 

After we got Clarissa to bed, Adam and I were sitting on the sofa still trying to digest the scene we'd witnessed with Carrie Sue.

“I have to say, I know you'd always told me about her, but seeing her in action—wow, she's a piece of work. No wonder you couldn't stand living with her.”

Adam sighed. “My only regret in that divorce was the fact I had to leave Clarissa with her.”

“She's so unqualified to be a mother. I mean, really, did you see those hideous gifts she got? She has no clue what Clarissa likes or even what's appropriate for her.”

“She never has. Between her drinking and her self-centeredness, she's clearly a woman who never should have had a child.”

And I always thought that woman was me. Somebody just not cut out to be a mother. Based on what I'd witnessed with Carrie Sue, now I wasn't so sure. Over time I'd come to learn Clarissa's likes and dislikes. I'd come to feel how natural it was being in her company, how much I welcomed her laughter and her affection.

Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe being a mother was about so much more than I ever realized. Simple things. Like just letting go and being yourself. I remembered hearing somewhere that people generally do the best they can in a given set of circumstances.

Looking back to April, when Clarissa had come to live with us, I was beginning to see how much I had known all along. Things I wasn't even aware of. And as a result, it now made me see that perhaps I was also
doing
better.