Lakeside Cottage (26 page)

S
ummer storms rarely struck at the lake, but occasionally, the mountains would produce a change in the weather. In late August, nature offered a hint of the coming season. The air turned misty as a brooding bank of clouds moved in, followed by gusts of wind howling through the corridor created by the mountains around the lake. Kate found her gaze drawn to the window as the weather intensified, driving curtains of rain across the water. She loved the drama of a good storm, with its dim, strange light, the dense pressure of the air, the sound of the wind tearing at the treetops and the rain beating on the roof. It was true that an idyllic summer day on the lake was a thing of beauty. Yet weather like this had its own peculiar majesty, feeding the melancholy side of her and somehow quieting the restlessness in her soul.

Chilled by the cold wind blowing down from the mountains, she made a fire in the woodstove and all day long worked by the dancing light visible through the amber glass in the stove door. Across the table from her, Aaron alternated between drawing intricate maps of some
imaginary place and playing with his army action figures, who were rappelling off the backs of chairs, under enemy fire. From time to time, Kate paused in her work to watch her son thoughtfully, though she said nothing, loath to interrupt the fantasy. Aaron worked his heroes hard. He always had.

Callie had been productive all day. She had cleaned her room and changed the linens, swept the porch and mopped the kitchen floor without being asked. She claimed she was feeling cooped up by the rain, and the activity would keep her from going stir-crazy. In the days since their visit to the corrections center, she hadn’t spoken of the visit to her mother, not to deny the things Sonja Evans had said, nor to confirm them, either. But Kate sensed an air of penance or atonement in Callie’s actions and heard again the echo of Sonja’s words—
Ask her….

She took a deep breath and caught the girl’s eye. “I’ve been wondering about something your mother said.”

Callie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”

“About why you had problems at your foster homes.”

“That’s over,” Callie said. “I’m through running away.”

“So what’s changed?”

She studied the floor, then glanced over at Aaron. He seemed oblivious, lost in his make-believe world. “I never told this to anyone, not even my mother. She’s the reason I kept running away, so I could go see her. I missed her so much, it’s crazy.”

Kate’s heart ached for her. “It’s not crazy.”

“It is. She’s not worth it. She never wanted me around. And she was right,” Callie added softly. “I tend to ruin things.”

Finally, thought Kate. She’d been waiting for Callie to respond to Sonja’s comments. “That’s not what your mother said. She told me to ask you why you left your last family. I didn’t ask, though. I figured it’s up to you whether or not you want to tell me.”

“I did ruin it,” Callie said, her voice matter-of-fact. “The Youngs were a good family, and I ruined things with them. If I hadn’t left on my own, they would have sent me packing.”

Kate said nothing, hoping her silence would keep the invitation open.

Sure enough, a moment later, Callie said softly, “I screwed everything up. Me, all by myself. The Youngs wanted to help me. I didn’t let them, though. I pushed them away, and when they pushed back, I ran.”

Kate could easily picture it. Callie’s self-protective instincts were stronger than her trust in people’s basic goodness. She had acted out of self-preservation, pure and simple. Kate recognized that.

“You’re going to have to change the way you deal with people who love you and want to help you,” Kate told her.

“Yeah, right. Whatever you say.” She headed for the utility room. “I need to get some clothes out of the dryer.”

Kate turned her attention back to revising the lengthy article. Her editor had declared the topic important, the photos remarkable, and the last time Kate was in cell phone range, they had talked for an hour about how the piece would be published. It would have a strong position in features, a shoutline on the front cover and a thumbnail photograph on the contents page. Kate gave all the credit to Callie, whose input had a devastating honesty. Kate herself had merely been the scribe, taking down a story
of danger and endurance. Reporting Callie’s unflinching narrative without judgment, Kate had known all along, was the only way the piece would be effective.

Kate hoped Callie would be happy with the published article. True, it was unsparing and not always flattering, but no reader would ever lose sympathy for her. Kate had even persuaded the magazine to include a sidebar with information about diabetes. In the past ten years, the number of teens with type 2 diabetes had doubled.

Sometimes when she was writing, Kate still thought about the things JD had said to her. He had wondered at the humanity of profiting from other people’s pain, from exposing someone’s private life to the world. As much as it bothered her to hear such things, the comments lingered in her mind and actually made her do a better job on the article. She weighed the merits of every word and phrase. If something smacked of exploitation or sensationalism, she struck it. She allowed nothing except the powerful truth, most of which came from the words Callie herself spoke. Kate would not obscure, soft-pedal or romanticize any of the events. Nor would she embellish or dramatize them.

She would simply write the truth from her perspective. Callie had no problem with that. And sometimes when she related events from her past, her flat, matter-of-fact delivery had a certain devastating power. Kate was determined to capture that. Ironically, she had JD to thank for making sure the work had absolute integrity. With his disapproval and skepticism as a constant reminder, she made certain her care, precision and altruism never wavered.

Not that she would thank him for the unsolicited advice. That would be too big a leap. She couldn’t imagine the conversation. Could she really say, “You made
me a better writer” or “I did a better job on this piece because of what you said”?

He had still undermined her ambition and devalued her dream. That wasn’t how to love someone.

She reflected on her past relationships. Men had always left without really knowing her, without giving her dreams a chance. She thought JD was different, but that was probably wishful thinking.

Anyway, she was moving on. The meeting had gone well with the caseworker, though the application and qualification process was an eye-opener. A foster parent had to commit to any number of possibilities. She had to provide a safe and loving home and promise to give her time, energy and heart to the process. Kate discovered that not only did she feel confident that she could do this, she was looking forward to it.

Her mother had warned her not to tangle herself up, being a foster mother. She’d declared it burdensome and maybe even hazardous, but Kate didn’t see it that way. She wanted to do this, to deepen her bond with Callie and make the girl a part of her life. The caseworker promised that, assuming Kate’s references and background checked out, Callie would soon be a part of her home. The yearning for this to work out was strong in Kate. She loved and respected Callie and wanted her to have the same chances and options any teenager enjoyed. Sometimes Kate lay awake at night and wondered if she had enough to give this girl. She hoped so. She and Aaron didn’t constitute a traditional family, but just because she didn’t have a husband didn’t mean she had to deprive herself—and Aaron—of another child in the household.

The whole experience made Kate realize that she had choices. Having Callie, even just for the summer,
had opened her mind to possibilities she’d never before considered. She drummed her fingers on the keyboard. Maybe she would chronicle that experience next, the journey of a single mother becoming a foster parent. Her editor wanted to know what her next project was. Perhaps this was it, Kate thought. This was what she was meant to be doing. Telling the stories of ordinary women from a personal perspective.

As the thought crossed her mind, a current of heat shot through her, a keen awareness. She vibrated like a tuning fork. When something felt this right, it rang in her bones, and she sensed that now. She sat up and paid attention. This was not some huge, radical concept. Lord knew, it was hardly original. Yet the idea felt right. It was a good fit, and she knew she could add her own voice to the canon.

“Well,” she said. “Good thing I got that figured out.”

“What’s that?” Callie stepped into the main room, wearing one of her work aprons and rubber gloves. It was startling to see how dramatically she’d changed since her birthday. She had her mother’s beauty, though Callie was blond while Sonja was dark. As the pounds came off and her health improved, that beauty shone through more and more each day.

“My direction. My next writing project. I loved writing this article about you, Callie, and when it’s done, I want to do more stories about women and choices.”

“What women?”

“All kinds. Women who are dealing with loss, like Mrs. Newman. Or those who have aging parents, or are struggling to raise their kids or to make ends meet, or—” She stopped, not wanting to say the next thing that popped into her mind: women who need to move
on after a breakup. “Any woman, any age, who’s faced with choices,” she said to Callie. “How’s that sound?”

“Like something in a women’s magazine.”

“Exactly.” Kate saved her work and shut the laptop. “Let’s get dinner, then. I think it’s perfect weather for chicken soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches.”

“Soup from a can?” Aaron asked, looking up from his play.

“’Fraid so, buddy.”

“Yes!” he said, punching the air.

Kate and Callie traded a smile. They worked together washing lettuce and chopping carrots for the salad. Kate put the ingredients for the vinaigrette in a jar and gave it to Aaron to shake, the perfect job for him. “I’m going to miss this place,” Callie said quietly, looking out the big picture window.

“We come back every year,” Aaron said immediately, lining his army men up along the counter. “No problem.”

Callie reached over and ruffled his hair. “Right, kid.”

Kate watched the worry tugging at Callie. She had been shuffled around so much that she never knew what lay ahead for her.

“We’re going to do everything we can to keep you with us through high school,” Kate said.

“That’s a long time,” Callie pointed out.

“Three more years,” Aaron said.

“I’ll probably ruin things before that,” Callie muttered.

Aaron rolled his eyes and took his army men elsewhere. He had little patience with Callie’s angst.

“Don’t be negative,” Kate said, keeping her voice light,
though she found Callie’s attitude worrisome. “The key to getting things to work out is believing they will.”

Callie smiled briefly and sliced into a tomato. “That’s the key to fooling yourself.”

“You’re too young to be cynical,” Kate told her.

“I think I damn well earned the right,” Callie replied, an edge in her voice.

“That’s in the past. From now on, you’re with us, and you don’t have to be so tough anymore. You also don’t have to swear.”

“Swear?”

“The D word.”

“Oh, for Chri— Pete’s sake,” Callie said.

Kate glanced over at Aaron. He was soaking all this in like a sponge, loving it. “Listen, both of you,” she said. “This summer, you’ve been our guest, Callie. But from now on, we’re going to function like a family. The placement counselor said we’ll need to work out clear house rules. One of mine is that we don’t use vulgar language. All right?”

“Fine,” Callie said. “Whatever.”

“It’s not asking all that much,” Kate pointed out. “One step at a time, that’s what they told us.”

“All right.”

“Pass me the salad tongs,” said Kate.

They fixed the soup and sandwiches, then sat down to eat while watching the rain in the wind on the lake. “I’m bored,” Aaron announced, pulling the crust off his grilled cheese.

“How about a game of Parcheesi after dinner?” Kate offered.

“Chairman of the bored,” he concluded, then asked Callie, “Is Luke coming over tonight?”

She kept her gaze out the window. “Nope.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow, either.” She shifted restlessly in her chair. “I’m not… Luke and I are not going to be hanging out anymore.”

“Bummer.” Aaron got up to clear the table. Kate smiled at him, pleased that she hadn’t had to ask him to do it. At the beginning of the summer, this might have taken ten minutes of nagging, so this was real progress.

“Are you sure about Luke?” Kate asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you ready to give up on him, or is he worth fighting for? You gave up without a fight.”

“Like you did with JD.”

The words struck Kate like rocks. She and Callie understood each other all too well.

Callie said no more but went to help Aaron finish the dishes. She seemed agitated, cleaning the kitchen with extra vigor. When Bandit whined to go out, Callie volunteered to take him, grabbing a cobwebbed golf umbrella from the stand on the porch. The dog raced around the yard, searching for the ideal spot to do his business. Aaron insisted on going out as well, wearing galoshes and an ancient army-fatigue poncho.

Good, thought Kate, watching from the porch. Aaron found her heart-to-hearts with Callie completely boring, and he needed to run off all that energy. When he came in, he might even submit to a warm bath. Callie stood under the umbrella, her shoulders hunched against the wind. She looked both alone and resolute, yet far too small to take on the world.

A gust of wind blew across the lake, flattening the water before it. Aaron’s poncho billowed out around him and Callie’s umbrella was lifted from beneath. The ribs
strained, but Callie held on fast with both hands until the gust of wind passed her by.

Like you did with JD?

Kate squinted through the mist but could barely see the Schroeder place. Still, she felt her stomach knotting with tension. She’d been telling herself it was time to quit dreaming and move on. Maybe she was wrong about that.