Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(26)

“Oh?” Teresa watched her carefully. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Anne Marie braced her elbows on the desk and covered her eyes. “I’m not sure…. I need time to think.”

“If I can help in any way, just let me know,” Teresa urged.

Anne Marie murmured a thank-you. It would take a while to f igure out what to do about this diff icult conversation—

including the fact that Tim had threatened legal action. Fine, she’d f ight him with every resource she possessed. First, however, she needed to f ind out what her own rights were. Her hand shook as she f lipped through the Rolodex on the corner of her desk until she came to Evelyn Boyle’s name. Evelyn, as a social worker, knew adoption law. Evelyn would be able to tell Anne Marie her rights.

Her heart felt as though it might implode. She’d already lost her husband, becoming a widow at the age of thirty-eight. Then life had taken a wonderful and unexpected turn and brought her Ellen. Anne Marie wasn’t going to give the child up. Not for anyone.

Chapter 9

We don’t knit to make things. There are cheaper, faster and easier ways to obtain a sweater than to knit it. We knit to make ourselves happy.We are in charge of getting the most joy out of our yarn and stitches.

—Annie Modesitt, author of Confessions of a KnittingHeretic and Knit with Courage, Live with Hope. www.anniemodesitt.com

Lydia Goetz

Tuesday evening my stomach was in knots as I pulled into the driveway after work. Casey had been with us for almost a week. Before I left the shop, I’d gotten no less than three phone calls from Cody and had talked with Brad an equal number of times. Each and every one of those calls had been about Casey. The girl had created a complete upheaval in our peaceful family life. As Evelyn had said, there were a few adjustment problems. She’d also predicted that the kids would accept each other in a day or two; it hadn’t happened. Brad felt inadequate to deal with the conf lict between Cody and Casey on his own. He seemed to think I’d handle it better, but I wasn’t really sure what to do, either.

“I’m home,” I called as I entered the kitchen through the door that led from the garage. I realized an announcement had been unnecessary. Both Cody and Brad were waiting for me. The relief on their faces was comical and they released a collective sigh at my arrival.

I kissed my husband on the cheek. As he usually did, Brad had started dinner—chicken and Spanish rice. Casey sat at the kitchen table with her head bent over one of my cookbooks, open to the section on baking. I found that interesting but knew better than to comment.

Cody scowled at her from the other side of the room. “I need to talk to you,” he said, then added “privately” in a whisper.

“Okay,” I agreed. I went over and hugged him, but he remained stiff and angry.

It took me a moment to divest myself of my purse and bag and to change shoes. “How was school?” I asked Casey, coming back into the kitchen.

She shrugged.

“What can I get you?” I decided to ask a question that required an actual response.

“I don’t need anything.” The words, as well as her body language, were def iant.

“Okay, but let me know if you do.”

“Can I talk to you and Dad now? ” Cody asked.

“Okay by me,” Brad told him. He turned down the burner under the pan of rice. The chicken was in the oven, and it would be about half an hour before the evening meal was ready.

“Would you excuse us for a few minutes?” I asked Casey. Once again she didn’t bother to respond. Brad and I left the kitchen. Cody led us into his bedroom with Chase a step or two behind. He waited until we were inside, then f irmly closed the door. Brad and I sat next to each other on Cody’s sloppily made bed and my husband reached for my hand.

Before Brad could even ask what this was all about, Cody whirled around, frowning at us. “I don’t like her.”

“Cody…”

“She’s rude and mean and she said I’m spoiled and called me a baby—right to my face!”

“Cody—” Brad tried again, but our son was in no mood to be reasonable.

“The three of us talked about adopting, remember?” Cody asked. “And I said okay, and you said you’d listen to what I wanted.”

“Of course we’ll listen! But Casey will only be with us a couple more days—at the most,” I reminded him. It wasn’t as though the girl was about to become part of our family.

“She was supposed to stay two nights and now she’s here for a whole week.” Cody’s eyes f lashed with indignation.

“Seeing that you let her stay longer than you said, I have a list of demands.”

“A list? ” I repeated.

“Demands?” Brad arched his eyebrows.

“Go ahead and read us your list,” I said. I felt we owed Cody that much. He was right; the situation had changed without warning and without real discussion. Granted, he was nine years old; he wouldn’t be making decisions for the family. But this did affect him and we needed to acknowledge his feelings—and accommodate them where we could. The fact that Cody had actually been thinking about the possibility of adoption pleased me. I wanted open communication among all of us, especially when it came to something as important as bringing a baby into our family.