“From the look in your eyes, I’d say you need one.”
That comment brought immediate tears, which Anne Marie struggled to hide as she returned to the office for her jacket. She grabbed a tissue to wipe her nose, then tossed it in the waste basket. She certainly couldn’t talk to her mother about what she’d learned. Laura Bostwick would use it as an opportunity to harangue Anne Marie about the huge mistake she’d made in marrying Robert. Laura had disapproved from the start. Trapped in her own unhappiness, she seemed to take a malevolent pleasure in destroying other people’s joy.
Elise linked arms with her as they crossed the street. “You’re so thin now I’m afraid a strong wind will blow you away.”
“Oh, come on, Elise. Don’t exaggerate.”
“It’s a problem I wish I had,” Elise muttered. “When Maverick died, I’m afraid I buried my sorrows in food. Isn’t that ridiculous, considering how closely I watched his diet?” Unexpectedly she smiled. “He said he ate like a bird—flax seed, blueberries, wheat germ… Maverick had such a delightful sense of humor. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever stop missing him.” She shook her head and brought her attention back to Anne Marie.
The French Café was the most popular restaurant on Blossom Street; even now, at almost two, it was crowded with lunchtime customers.
Alix Turner, who baked all the pastries, belonged to one of Anne Marie’s reader groups and often recommended the bookstore to others.
When it was their turn to order, both Anne Marie and Elise chose the squash soup. While they waited for the server to deliver their order, they sipped their coffee.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Elise said.
“Why don’t we wait until after we eat?” Anne Marie murmured, not eager to discuss Robert’s infidelity.
Elise looked at her sternly. “Don’t put it off. Whatever happened is tearing you up inside. You’ll feel better if you share it—if not with me, then someone else. Frankly, I’m your best option.”
Anne Marie had to laugh; some of the things Elise said verged on egotistical. Fortunately she knew the other woman well enough not to take offense.
“Let’s talk about our Twenty Wishes instead,” Anne Marie said. “Are you working on your list?”
“I am.” Elise smiled. “I’m determined to go on a hot air balloon ride. That one’s at the top of my list.” She hesitated. “I have another wish….”
“Which is?”
“You promise not to laugh or try to talk me out of it?”
“Of course.” There was the matter of those red cowboy boots, for one thing.
“I’m going to get a tattoo.”
What? Elise? Anne Marie nearly swallowed her tongue. “Have you decided where?”
“There’s a tattoo parlor near the waterfront and—”
“No, I meant where on you. Your shoulder or—”
“Oh, I’m not sure yet. Maverick had one. On his right arm.” The older woman looked flustered. “But that’s enough about me. Tell me what’s troubling you.”
Anne Marie would rather avoid the subject altogether; at the same time she was grateful for the chance to talk about it with someone she knew and trusted. She sighed. “I had dinner with my stepdaughter Friday night.”
“I take it the evening wasn’t pleasant.”
“No… Melissa had recently gone to Robert’s office and discovered that his personal assistant had a baby.”
Elise straightened her shoulders. “A baby…” she repeated. “Is it Robert’s?”
Anne Marie shrugged. “I’d say it’s highly probable.”
Elise’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re not sure?”
“No.”
“You’re going to find out, aren’t you?”
“I…I don’t feel it’s my place to say or do anything.”
“Yes, it is!” Elise said adamantly. “Who better than you? Robert was your husband.”
“But…”
“And so far the identity of the father is pure conjecture.”
“Well, yes, to a certain extent. Apparently while Robert and I were separated, Melissa discovered her father and Rebecca in a, uh, compromising position. Nine months later, Rebecca turns up with a baby. What else am I to think?”
Elise pursed her lips. “It does seem suspicious. The only way to know for sure is to ask her.”
Anne Marie saw the wisdom of confronting Rebecca, but she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t convinced she’d ever have the courage to speak to her. “Brandon and Melissa are the ones who need to know.”
“You, my dear, were Robert’s wife. Yes, I’m aware that you’d separated. He behaved badly, and I’m positive that if he was here, he’d tell you how much he regrets everything that happened.”
“He didn’t want another family…. Perhaps he just didn’t want children with me.”
“Don’t say that,” Elise said sharply. “Don’t think it, either. If Robert was alive he’d be aghast at this news.”
“You never knew him.”
“But I know you,” she came right back. “From what you’ve told me, Robert loved you.”
“I thought he did.” All of a sudden Anne Marie couldn’t help wondering. She’d lost Robert to a heart attack and now the vision of the man she’d so desperately loved had been destroyed. Along with it, all her dreams of the future, the hopes and promises she’d hung on to during their separation, had fizzled out to nothing.
“Don’t leap to any conclusions until you talk to Rebecca yourself,” Elise warned her. “No one has more of a right to the truth than you.”
Elise made it sound so simple, so straightforward and uncomplicated.
The server brought the steaming soup, and Anne Marie inhaled the gingery scent. For the first time in days she felt like eating. Elise reached across the table and clasped her forearm.
“Promise me you’ll contact Rebecca and ask her. Do it for yourself,” Elise said.
“I can’t….”
“You can and you will,” the other woman insisted. “Don’t you remember what Scripture says? ‘The truth shall set you free,’ and until you know the truth you’ll be held captive by your fears and doubts.”
Anne Marie merely nodded as she tasted her soup. Delicious. They’d used coconut milk, she guessed, allowing herself to be momentarily distracted.
“Find out,” Elise urged again as she picked up her spoon. “Don’t accept all this conjecture and half-baked information. Melissa might have misjudged the situation entirely.”
“I…don’t think so.” Naturally Anne Marie wanted to believe that Robert would never cheat on her. And yet she had to be realistic, too.
“But you don’t know and you won’t until you speak to this woman.”
Anne Marie was forced to agree.
“You’ll do it, then?”
Reluctantly she nodded. Not now, though, not when the pain was still so fresh and her heart was aching.
“You won’t disappoint me, will you?” Elise held her gaze for a long moment.
“No,” Anne Marie promised. “I’ll get in touch with Rebecca and I’ll ask her.”
Then and only then did Elise smile. “Remember—the truth shall set you free.”
Chapter 7
The minute Anne Marie entered the school grounds at Woodrow Wilson with Baxter on his leash, she was surrounded by children, apparently out for a late recess or an early lunch. Baxter looked up at her expectantly and, fearing the small dog might be overwhelmed, she lifted him into her arms.
“I brought Baxter to visit Ellen Falk,” she explained as the children gathered around.
By the time Anne Marie had walked inside, Ellen’s second-grade class had been dismissed for lunch. She found the little girl waiting in the hallway by the lunchroom. She stood with her back against the wall, staring down at the floor.
“Hello, Ellen.” Anne Marie spoke softly so as not to alarm her.
Ellen glanced up and when she saw Baxter, a tentative smile slid into place. “You brought him!??
?
“I called and Ms. Mayer said it would be all right to bring Baxter so the two of you can meet.” Bending down to her constant friend and companion, Anne Marie said, “Baxter, this is Ellen.”
Ellen stared at the dog. “Hi,” she said and offered him her hand to sniff. “Would it be okay if I petted him?” she asked, her eyes filled with longing.
“I’m sure he’d like that.”
Even with Anne Marie’s permission, Ellen hesitated as she raised her hand and gently touched the top of Baxter’s head. As if he understood how badly this little girl needed a friend, Baxter licked her hand.
“He likes you,” Anne Marie told her. “Would you like to hold him?”
The girl’s eyes grew large. “I’m allowed to do that?”
“Of course. Let me show you how to carry him.” She gave Ellen a demonstration of the way she tucked Baxter between her arm and her side, then handed her the dog.
Baxter wagged his tail, and Ellen couldn’t stop smiling.
“Shall we get some lunch?” Anne Marie asked. “Ms. Mayer said we’ll need to take our lunches back to the classroom. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” Ellen looked at her anxiously. “Baxter can come, too, can’t he?”
“Of course,” Anne Marie assured her.
The Yorkshire terrier attracted lots of curious attention as Ellen waited outside the busy cafeteria. “I’ll get our lunch while you watch Baxter,” Anne Marie said.
The menu for the day was chili with corn bread, which Anne Marie remembered was Ellen’s favorite. She chose a fresh salad and canned peaches for herself. Her appetite was improving. Since her lunch with Elise the day before, she’d actually felt the faint stirrings of hunger. Talking to her friend had made her feel calmer and more rational, although Anne Marie wasn’t ready to confront Rebecca yet. She would in time, as soon as she was emotionally prepared to deal with the other woman’s answer.
When she’d assembled their lunch, several of the children had gathered around Ellen, asking questions about Baxter.
“I have to go now,” the child told the others, and Anne Marie grinned at the importance in her voice. Ellen dutifully followed her down the hall toward the classroom, carrying Baxter as though he was the most precious burden imaginable.
The door was open and Ellen led the way to her desk. Anne Marie set the tray down and pulled up a chair next to Ellen’s.
“What about Baxter?” Ellen asked, carefully putting him down. “We can’t eat in front of him, can we? That would be impolite.”
“Yes, it would,” Anne Marie agreed. She’d brought along a small can of gourmet dog food, which was a rare treat for him. As she retrieved it from her purse, Baxter practically did flips of joy.
Ellen giggled, covered her mouth with her hand, then giggled again. “He’s so funny.”
“Yes, he is,” Anne Marie said, smiling, too.
Ellen seemed far more interested in Baxter than in eating her own lunch. She watched Baxter wolf down his food before she turned to her own plate. “One time my mama said she’d buy me a dog.”
Knowing the girl lived with her grandmother, Anne Marie wasn’t sure how to comment.
“What kind of dog do you want?”
Ellen looked up from her chili. “Any kind. But Mama made lots of promises she never kept. I live with my Grandma Dolores now.”
“Does she have a dog?”
Ellen shook her head. “She said she’s too old to take care of a dog.”
“How old is she?” Anne Marie asked.
Ellen contemplated the question. “Really, really old. I think she’s over fifty.”
Anne Marie managed to suppress a smile. “That old,” she said, exaggerating the two words. Her guess was that the woman was actually quite a bit older.
“She sleeps a lot.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t mind. She lets me watch TV as long as I do my homework.”
“She loves you very much, doesn’t she?”
Ellen swallowed a bite of her corn bread. “And I love her,” she mumbled.
“I’m sure you do.”
“Only…only Grandma’s too old to get me a dog.”
“I’ll be happy to share Baxter if you’d like,” Anne Marie offered.
Ellen’s eyes lit with pure joy. “You promise?”
“We’re Lunch Buddies, aren’t we?”
Ellen nodded enthusiastically. She took another spoonful of her chili and paused long enough to pet Baxter.
“We should probably take him for a walk once you finish your lunch.” Anne Marie had brought a plastic bag in case nature called while Baxter was outside.
“I’m full,” Ellen said decisively, planting both hands on her stomach.
“Positive?”
“Yup. Can we go now?”
They brought their trays back to the cafeteria and Anne Marie carried them inside, remembering how Ellen had instructed her the week before. When she’d put them away, the two of them walked outside.
Typical for early March in the Pacific Northwest, a fine mist was falling. Most of the children ignored the rain, as did Ellen and Anne Marie. They strolled through the yard, making for a small grassy area nearby, and Anne Marie let Ellen take the leash. A dozen kids trailed behind as if she were the Pied Piper. They would’ve followed Ellen and Baxter out of the yard if the recess monitor hadn’t intervened.
As usual, Baxter sniffed every inch of territory as he trotted toward the gate. “How’s school?” Anne Marie asked, walking side-by-side with the eight-year-old. She hoped to become better acquainted with Ellen, although it seemed she had to drag every morsel of information from the child. Thus far, all she knew was that Ellen liked dogs and lived with her grandmother, who was over fifty and therefore “really old.”
“Good.”
That wasn’t a lot of help. “Do you have any problems with math?”
“Nope. Grandma Dolores says I’m smart.”
“I’ll bet you are.”
Ellen seemed to have nothing else to say. She concentrated on the dog, praising him and periodically bending down to stroke his silky ears.
Anne Marie had hoped for more progress today. She’d seen some, thanks solely to Baxter, but now that she’d made a commitment to the program and to Ellen, she was eager for the next breakthrough.
“Does he know any tricks?” Ellen asked.
“Baxter? He can sit on command.”
Ellen seemed pleased. She stopped walking. “Sit,” she said sternly.
Her Yorkie immediately complied, and Ellen beamed. “He’s smart, too.”
“Yes, he is. He doesn’t know how to roll over, though. I’ve tried, but I can’t make him understand what I want him to do.”
“I’ll get a book from the library and teach him,” Ellen instantly volunteered. “Can you bring him next Wednesday?”
Anne Marie had discussed the situation with Ms. Mayer. The point of the Lunch Buddy program was for Ellen and Anne Marie to become friends. Helen Mayer’s concern was that Ellen would bond with Baxter and not Anne Marie. She’d suggested the dog only visit once a month.
“I’m afraid Baxter won’t be able to come next week,” Anne Marie explained. “But I’ll bring him again soon.”
The light seemed to go out of Ellen’s eyes and she docilely accepted the news. “I like Baxter,” she said a few minutes later.
“I can tell, and he certainly likes you.”
Her returning smile was fragile, as if she’d long ago learned to accept disappointments.
What little conversation they exchanged after that was focused on Baxter. When the lunch bell rang, Ellen lingered on the playground.
“I’ll see you next week,” Anne Marie promised.
Ellen lowered her eyes and nodded.
Ellen was obviously accustomed to adults making promises they didn’t or couldn’t keep. Anne Marie wanted to reassure the youngster that if she said she’d be at the school, she would be, but actions spoke much louder than words. S
he hoped that over time Ellen would come to trust her.
“Can I hug Baxter goodbye?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Crouching, Ellen petted the dog, then picked him up and gently gave him a hug. “Thank you for bringing him.”
“You’re welcome, Ellen.”
With that, the girl raced toward the school building. She was the last one to enter and Anne Marie hoped she wouldn’t be late for class.
“Well, Baxter,” she murmured to her pet, “you were a real hit.” As she hurried toward the parking lot, Helen Mayer stepped out of the school, walking purposefully in Anne Marie’s direction.
“How’d it go with Ellen this week?” she asked, quickly catching up. She wore only a sweater and shivered as she wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Okay, I think,” Anne Marie said. “Thanks mostly to Baxter.”
“I thought that might be the case.”
“She wanted me to bring him next week, but I told her he couldn’t come and it would only be me.”
“That little girl’s been through a great deal,” Ms. Mayer said, lowering her voice. “As I explained earlier, the privacy laws prohibit me from saying any more, but rest assured that Ellen badly needs a friend.”
Anne Marie immediately felt guilty for wishing she’d found another volunteer effort. But she’d made a four-month commitment and she planned to see it through. She had no intention of being another adult in Ellen’s life who broke her promises.
The school counselor walked her to the parking lot. “Next Tuesday afternoon, the school’s putting on a play.”
Anne Marie nodded.
“Ellen has a small role in it.”
“Ellen?”
“She’s in the chorus.”
“How nice. She didn’t mention it.”
Ms. Mayer didn’t seem surprised. “She wouldn’t. She’s such a shy child. She’s gifted vocally, you know.”
“It’ll help her self-esteem if she excels in singing.” Anne Marie didn’t say that she used to sing, too. Or that she hadn’t sung in months…
“Oh, I agree, this opportunity is wonderful for Ellen,” Ms. Mayer said. “She’s the only second-grader in the chorus.”
“That’s terrific.” There was no personal reason for Anne Marie to feel proud of Ellen, but she did.