Worth the Weight (21 page)

By the time they reached Lake Superior three hours later they had gotten into an easy routine.
Finn
carried Annie to the water’s edge where he’d remove her brace which Lizzie would take back to the van. She’d bring back the life vest, floaties and
towels. She’d lurk nearby, but
she hung mostly with Stevie.

This would be their quickest swim, Lake Superior being by far the coldest lake due to its depth. A quick in and ou
t, but they could claim they’d been
in three Great Lakes in one day.

“It’ll be pretty cool to tell your pals, eh?” she asked Stevie as they dried off for the final time
.
Finn
was discreetly
helping
Annie
change
out of her swimsuit and into dry clothes. With her brace, it would be too uncomfortable for her to spend the last two hours of their trip in a wet swimsuit. The rest of them would just dry off as much as possible then throw shorts and tees on over their suits. They were
from the Copper Country – with water everywhere you turned –
they were used to sitting on towels in their car seats in the summer.

“Yeah, but not as cool as telling them I met
Pete
Ryan.” His mind continued on. “Or
Avila
and
Verlander
.” The number of sports stars Stevie had met in the three days they’d been away from the Copper Country would impress even the most jaded teenager. The thought spurred on another one.

“Maybe your friends would want to help out with the fundraiser?” She wanted to get Stevie involved somehow. With the event being all about Annie,
it was
important for Stevie to get some attention.

He had that
“Oh.Oh. What’s the catch?”
look on his face. “Help out how?”

“Well, if we get to do everything I’ve planned, I’ll need about eighteen people to man
a
golf hole at the golf outing. We usually have little contests that people can buy their way into at each hole, you know, closest to the pin, stuff like that.
”
Before he could get the no that was obviously forming on his lips out, she added, “Of course, each golf group will have a sports star in it. Plus each celebrity athlete will probably want a caddy.”

His blue eyes, his father’s eyes, widened. “Deal.”

Chapter Twelve

√ Ask Dad about exercise bike

√ Make dessert to bring to farm

√ See separate call sheet for Annie Aid

Two weeks later Lizzie pulled her Navigator into the Robbins’ driveway. Which wasn’t different than any other day since they got back from Ann Arbor, but today the back of
her
SUV
was held shut with a bungee cord.

She waved Stevie
over
to help her from the field where he was picking berries. She had taken her mother’s old exercise bike from the storage area in the basement and brought it out to the farm. She and Stevie carried it to the edge of the strawberry field nearest the house. She then went in to the house and met Annie’s accusing stare as the girl sat in front of the picture window, obviously watching the happenings outside.

“What’s that thing for?” she asked Lizzie.

“What do you think it’s for?” her voice matched Annie’s petulant-child tone.

“I’m not riding that damn thing outside where people can see me.”

“That’s too damn bad, because that’s where I’m going to be, and you really need to have someone near you if you’re going to be on it.” She went to the desk in the living room, sticking her tongue out at the back o
f Annie’s head as she passed
by.

She picked up her Annie Aid tablet from the desk, took her cell phone from her purse which she then threw on a kitchen chair and left the house. She could feel the little blue eyes burning a hole in her back as she went to the barn and got the milking stool she’d made her own and a couple of empty quarts and went to the first row of the field.

She plunked down the stool, placing her tablet and cell phone on the ground next to her. It was a routine she’d gotten used to since they’d gotten back from the hospital trip. She spent the mornings in the field, half-heartedly picking berries, whole-heartedly working on her tan, and keeping her fundraiser things nearby so that whenever she had a brainstorm she could jot it down, or even make a call
or text
and set the idea in motion. In the afternoons she went into the house and after lunch, usually prepared by Clea, she set to work at the desk that
Finn
had cleared off for her.

Her plans were coming together, and
she
felt confident enough that everything else would fall in to place so that they’d be able to announce the fundraiser at the upcoming Strawberry Festival Community Dance.

The Festival had always been a favorite. The little neighboring town of Chassell hosting not only all the area’s population but a large number of tourists for a three-day weekend with a parade, events, and strawberries, supplied by the local berry growers, in any and every array you could imagine. Madge Goodson, the perennial Strawberry Festival Chair, unwittingly did a dead-on impression of Bubba in
Forrest Gump
reeling off all the ways to cook shrimp, when she told of the myriad of ways you could serve strawberries.

A Strawberry Festival Queen pageant highlighted the weekend. Local girls sponsored by the fraternal organization where, most likely, their fathers or uncles were long-time members. The festival always culminated with a community dance. Kids ran around eating cotton candy and the adults gossiped and talked about the success or failure of that year’s strawberry crop. Little girls in their best new dresses took to the floor for their first dance, standing on their
fathers’ shoes.

Petey was scheduled to crown the queen at this year’s festivities. Maybe she’d have him make the announcement about the fundraiser at the same time. She wrote a quick note to call Madge and talk to her about it.

The Festival was only a week away and
Finn
had hired extra pickers to bring in more berries that would be sold to the festival committee for the weekend. They picked both mornings and afternoons now. Most of the pickers were in the south field, farthest away from the house, and some were in the field across the road.
Finn
was deep in the south field with a wagon that he carted around to fill with the picked quarts. She waved to him when she saw him take notice of her arrival in the field. She couldn’t see his expression when he saw the exercise bike, and she was glad, not knowing how he’d respond to her interference.

After only a few minutes,
she
heard the telltale sound of the screen door opening from the house behind her and the squeak-squeak of wheels as Annie made her way down the ramp and across the paved walk to the edge of the fields.

Lizzie
got up and made her way to Annie, careful not to meet her eyes. She went around her and started to push the chair through the rougher terrain until they arrived at Lizzie’s stool, conveniently placed next to the exercise bike. She stood behind the wheelchair, waiting for Annie to make up her mind.

“Those people picking in the field…they’ll laugh at me,” she whispered.

Lizzie’s heart lurched. “No they won’t. First of all, they better be busy working or your father’s going to get all over them. And even if they do notice, they’ll think, ‘boy, that girl is going to have the best toned thighs in the whole Copper Country’.”

She couldn’t see Annie’s reaction to that, but heard a soft exhale, possibly from a small laugh?

“Why can’t I do it inside? Gran’s there to watch me.”

“Your Gran has other things she needs to get done. This way you can get s
ome
sun as well.” She hesitated,
then added, “Besides, I’d like the company.” She was surprised to realize that she spoke the truth.

She
didn’t waste any time, in case Annie chickened out. She motioned to Stevie a few rows over, who had been watching the entire exchange. As soon as he saw her beckon him, he speedily made his way over to them, as if he’d been on call.

She
liked that kid more every day.

She also saw
Finn
notice Stevie’s movement,
then look to see Annie out in the fields. He dropped the handle to the wagon and started making his way in, but stopped when he saw Lizzie hold up a hand
stopping him
.

She
knew it took every ounce of willpower
Finn
had to turn around and go back to the wagon and continue on. She knew his eyes would be on the three of them the entire time, but that was fine.

“Stevie, would you help me lift Annie on to the bike, please? And maybe you could pick in the first row with us for awhile?” Lizzie didn’t need to add that she’d feel better with another pair of hands and eyes near Annie while she was on the bike.

“Sure,” he said,
then
started to release the footrests on Annie’s chair. “Think you’re going to give Lance Armstrong a run for his money, huh, brat?”

“Who?” Annie asked.

Stevie let out the exasperated sigh that only a wiser, much put upon, older brother can
master. “Never mind. Okay, Lizzie, you take her left side.”

Annie herself, thin as she was, was light as a feather. The cumbersome brace was another story, but
she
and Stevie managed to place her on the bike seat with minimal effort.

Lizzie’d told her father what she intended the bike for and her father, being an engineering professor, spent a few hours last night widening the seat and cushioning it for better balance. He also added cups at the end of ea
ch petal, so Annie’s feet wouldn’
t slide off. He must have found Lizzie’s first bike
–
which was surely in the garage somewhere, as her father never threw anything out that had working parts of any sort
–
and put the bike’s basket, horn, bell and handlebar streamers on the exercise bike.

Lizzie thought of
Finn
and her own father. What daddies did for their little girls, never mind if thei
r babies were ten or thirty-five
. Her father hadn’t pried or asked t
oo many questions when she’
d said what she’d needed, and yet, he’d outdone himself.

“Are you comfortable
?” Lizzie asked once Stevie had placed Annie’s feet on the pedals and eased the cups over them.

Annie ran her little fingers over the circular bell on the handlebars, next to the grips. “What’s this?”

Lizzie’s heart squeezed when she realized that the kid didn’t even know what a bi
ke bell looked like. God, she’
d missed out on so much. “It’s a bell, you ring it to make people get out of your way.”

The girl rang the bell loudly then stilled when she saw all the heads perk up in the fields and look around. Lizzie was afraid Annie would turn tail, but she began to turn her legs instead.
She
pedaled, tentative at first,
then picked
up speed. Lizzie’d had her father rig the setting of the bike to the lowest resistance. When Annie started pumping like she had indeed entered the Tour de France, Lizzie gently placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Slower. Your
legs will get better exercise if you go slower, but longer.” She waited for the smart-ass comeback that was sure to follow. Instead, Annie slowed down her pace, and nodded her head in understanding.

Lizzie sat on her stool and resumed picking berries. After a while she shed her shirt to the tank top she wore underneath. Noticing that Annie was wearing long sleeves and jeans she asked, “Annie, would you like me to take you in to change into shorts and a tank top so you
wouldn’t be so hot
?”

“I don’t have any shorts or tank tops. I only have the swimsuit that my dad bought me the day we went to Alison’s.”

She
thought back and realized that she had, indeed, only seen Annie in pants, even the day they drove back from Ann Arbor. She’d had her swimsuit on, but jeans and a long sleeve top over it. Was it because Annie was self-conscious about her legs?
Every
ten-year old girl’s legs were spindly and gangly, so how much worse could Annie’s be? Maybe the brace was more pronounced under a tee shirt or tank top? Or was the reason she didn’t have a more extensive wardrobe lack of funds? To ask either question would embarrass Annie or
Finn
, so she said nothing, but made a note in her tablet to stop by Wal-Mart and pick up a couple pair of shorts, tee shirts and tank tops.

“Why are you always writing in those notebooks?” Annie asked.

She
looked up at her. “Huh?”

Annie tentatively took one hand off a handlebar and pointed to Lizzie’s ever-present tablet. She quickly put her hand back on the handle and resumed pedaling.