Three Little Words (19 page)

I snatched the album back and thumbed through it again. At the end there was a letter written to me:
We are the Courters. Phil and Gay met when we were working for the same company in New York City in 1968. At that time, we were making films for children. We fell in love almost from the minute we met and were married within that year. We have been together ever since and have a very happy marriage and home…. We still make movies and videos, often about children and families. Sometimes we have to travel for business, but we often take our children with us….

As a few more kids trickled in, Will announced, “Ashley’s got a family!”

“Me too!” cried Luke. He rushed into the room waving another album.

I checked out the Hudsons, who were younger and more like what I had in mind. The Hudsons also had dogs, which I preferred to the Courters’ five cats; but it was the Courters’ home that won me over. Although it did not have lion statues guarding the front door, it was close to my dream castle.

I went to my room so I could continue reading the letter from the Courters in private. They had two sons. Blake was twenty-three and had just graduated from college; Josh was twenty and still in college. Gay was a writer who was just finishing her eighth book, and Philip made films. The letter mentioned that they flew airplanes. I could not imagine what this family was like or why they would want me.

The letter went on to describe their five cats—one had only three legs, and they all had peculiar names. Then it continued:
Outside our house is the Crystal River In the winter, the manatees are all around us and sometimes dolphins swim up to the dock. There are many types of birds, fish in the water, and sometimes a whole family of otters. At night, there are alligators that we can see if we take flashlights. There are also raccoons, possums, and armadillos hanging around. Now and then, you can even spot a wild pig in the road! And there are all sorts of frogs, toads, and bugs too!
This sounded more like a place that Luke would enjoy. He liked cats and bugs and would be thrilled to see a gator. None of that interested me.

I went back to the photos and studied the paisley bedspread in the room that would be mine, the tiles edging the swimming pool, the curvy sofa in the living room, the size of the boat tied at the dock, and the pots hanging over the kitchen sink. I tried to imagine walking from room to room, sleeping in the large bed without an annoying roommate, or strolling along the seawall to see the manatees. I wondered if they would let me invite friends over for a pool party or even sleepovers.

I continued reading the letter.
We have a very happy, fun family. We always try to help each other out and make sure that everyone is feeling okay. Phil and Gay take turns with chores and taking care of our children. If there is a big job, we all pitch in together to get it done, and then we can be free to have fun sooner. We have a lot of love to give to more children and we believe that if everyone cares about each other, everyone can be happy.

That sounded like something they thought they should write, because on closer inspection, their expressions in the photographs did not look as happy-go-lucky as their words claimed, but I figured they would be able to offer me opportunities. I couldn’t decide if they seemed more like one of those quirky sitcom families or a bunch of weirdos who make a good first impression but flip out behind closed doors. But I realized that it would be stupid to pass up this opportunity—with or without Luke. It looked like a good deal; I’d get a lot of attention, a lot of stuff, and it couldn’t be worse than most of the places I had been. If I really hated it, I could always come back to The Children’s Home. Lots of others had—even after they had been adopted.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” Luke called out. He had been on lookout since dawn.

I watched both families get out of a van. All four were wearing Tshirts, shorts, and sandals. After brief introductions the Hudson family steered Luke to a picnic bench near the parking lot. The staff picked the farthest table for themselves so they could be inconspicuous.

Gay and Phil positioned themselves on a bench with me in the middle. I managed to squirm enough so I did not have to touch them. Nobody spoke. I gazed up at the trees where a deflated red balloon was caught in some branches.

Phil broke the silence. “Do you have any questions for us?”

“Where did you get that necklace?” I asked Gay without looking directly at her.

“At a craft shop in Maine.” Gay lifted it over her head and handed it to me. All the beads were made from blown glass.

“What will my bedtime be?” I said as I fingered the smooth leaves interspersed with bird and fish shapes on her necklace.

“That depends on what time school starts,” Phil said.

“How much allowance will I get?”

“Our sons got five dollars a week in middle school,” he replied.

Gay changed the subject. “Want a snack?”

Phil fetched the cooler, which they had filled with sodas, juices, various kinds of cheese, several boxes of crackers, and jars of peanut butter and jelly.

I slipped Gay’s necklace over my neck. “How did you know I love cheese?”

Gay grinned. “A little mouse clued us in.”

I thought this was her lame attempt to be funny. I glanced over to the table where Ms. Sandnes was sitting. She had come back for the day to be supportive. “Ms. Sandnes?”

“Actually, it was your guardian,” Gay admitted.

The cracker tasted like paste and the juice was too sweet. “Want to see my room?” I led the way to the cottage.

“Why don’t you adopt me?” Will shouted as we walked past the living room.

“My room’s back here,” I said, “but men aren’t allowed.”

“It’s okay,” said Ms. Sandnes, who had been trailing us.

“Can you reach that?” I pointed to the Tiffany & Co. box on my top shelf. When Phil handed it down, I opened it. “My mother gave me this music box.”

“It’s beautiful,” Gay said. “Your mother really cared about you.”

I twisted her beads so hard I thought they might snap.

Ms. Sandnes coughed. “I guess we need to be going,” Phil said, “but we can come back on Monday, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure,” I said.

Outside, Luke hugged the Hudsons and said, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.”

The Courters stood stiffly. I kept my distance as we walked to the parking area. Phil opened the car door for Gay. She hesitated and waved.

“Wait!” I called. “Don’t forget your necklace.”

“Do you want to borrow it?” she asked.

“What if something happens to it?”

“We care about people, not things.”

When they arrived for dinner on Monday, I could barely face Gay.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I gulped. “I accidentally broke your necklace.” I explained that I had worn it to school. “When a girl grabbed for it, I decided to put it in my book bag, but it got squashed on the school bus and one of the glass leaves split in half.”

“It’s my fault,” Gay responded. “I should have realized it was too fragile.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not!” she said, although I was not sure she meant it.

We had pizza, but I barely ate anything. “How long have you known about me?”

“We first heard about you six months ago,” Phil said.

“Have you seen me before?”

“Many times,” Phil said with a laugh.

When the Courters rattled off how often they had been at The Children’s Home, I was shocked. I could not believe they heard my welcoming speech at the Murphey Awards and saw me dance at an event several months earlier. I knew that Phil had filmed me at the camp pool but not that Gay had watched my Lucille Ball skit at the talent show. How could I have been oblivious to the family that had been shopping for me?

The next step was a visit to my family’s home. Beth Lord and Sharon Ambrose drove Luke and me to Citrus County. First, we dropped Luke and Ms. Sharon at the Hudsons’ home in a wooded glen, and then Ms. Beth took me about ten miles farther to Crystal River.

“Hi!” Phil said as he opened the glass front door. I passed by him, ignored Gay, and walked down the hall to a door with a sign that read
ASHLEY’S ROOM.
I surveyed the room briefly, then returned to the car, retrieved my Tiffany box, and placed it on a shelf in the bedroom. Next, I carried in a garbage bag containing my stuffed animals.

“Are you moving in?” Phil chuckled tensely.

“Just putting my stuff where it will be safe.”

“Okay …” Gay glanced first at Phil, then at Beth Lord.

“Are you hungry?” Gay asked. My stomach was doing cartwheels, so I only shrugged. “Do you like pasta?”

“I guess.”

Phil led the way into the kitchen. “Have you ever made noodles from scratch?” I shook my head. “Do you want thinner spaghetti or fatter fettuccini?”

“Fettuccini.” It sounded more sophisticated, although I was not sure what the difference was. I helped Phil pour the eggs, water, and flour into a machine, then hang the strands on a rotating stand he had built.

Gay chopped onions and peeled tomatoes. “I can make any kind of sauce. Would you prefer white or red?” I did not react. “Some people prefer it plain with butter….”

“Just RagÚ.”

“Let me check the pantry.”

For a minute I thought she had said “panty” and was confused. She came out of a little room holding a jar. “We use it for pizza,” she said apologetically to Beth Lord. She started to pour it in a pot.

“I prefer it cold.”

Gay grimaced but allowed me to dump the sauce directly on the pasta from the jar. I stirred it around, took a few bites. The noodles were too chewy. When Phil noticed I had not touched most of my food, I apologized. “I’m a picky eater.”

“We’ll figure out what you like, and you might learn to try new foods.” He grinned. “Like sushi.”

“What’s that?”

“Raw fish.”

He was kidding, right? There was a pause. I forced a laugh. They laughed. What had I gotten myself into?

A few days later Gay arrived to take me clothes shopping. She wanted to buy me a fancy dress because we were going to see
Phantom of the Opera
for her birthday.

Gay held up a purple dress with a lace collar and puffy sleeves. “That’s dorky,” I said, moving toward a rack of silky dresses with spaghetti straps. I picked out a turquoise one with a low-cut neckline. Gay shook her head. “But I look better in blue and I despise purple.”

“It’s not the color” was all she said.

We found two dresses I didn’t hate, and we picked out some other things I really liked: overall shorts, striped shirts in several colors, and a pair of designer jeans.

“Okay, let’s try them on,” Gay said.

I refused to go into the dressing room. “How will you know if they fit?” she asked.

“Ms. Sandnes bought my clothes for me. If they didn’t fit, she returned them.”

“I live two hours away, Ashley, so you’ll have to try them on now.” I could tell she was annoyed. “You can have your privacy; just show me the ones you like.”

I stormed out of the store because I did not want to admit that I had never been in a dressing room before.

Gay caught up with me. “How about a snack?”