Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(42)

“Especially Baxter,” Anne Marie agreed. She looked at the clock.

“It’s past your bedtime, young lady,” she said with mock severity. Ellen didn’t protest. “Can I read before I go to sleep?” she pleaded. Anne Marie nodded. As was her habit, she knelt next to the bed and listened to Ellen’s prayers. The girl yawned loudly halfway through the list of friends she prayed for every night and ended with a sweet, heartfelt request that God say hello to her Grandma Dolores.

“Are you sure you want to read tonight?” Anne Marie asked as she bent to kiss Ellen’s forehead.

Her daughter’s eyes were half closed. “Maybe…not,” she whispered. Anne Marie smiled, then turned off the light and tiptoed from the room.

For a long time afterward, she sat in the living room, deliberating about Tim Carlsen. At first she was convinced she’d made the decision that was best for Ellen. After all, Carlsen had no legal rights. She wasn’t fooled. There was a very good reason he’d decided not to pursue this through the courts. He’d discovered what Evelyn Boyle had already conf irmed; because the birth certif icate hadn’t acknowledged him as Ellen’s father, the courts had no means of contacting him before the adoption. Which meant Tim wasn’t part of this scenario and had no place in Ellen’s life. Even if he could prove he was Ellen’s biological father, it was too late.

The only way Tim would be able to know Ellen was if Anne Marie allowed it. She wasn’t about to do that. The man had been a drunk and a drug addict. It didn’t matter that he was clean and sober now—or claimed to be. There were consequences when you’d lived that kind of life. Besides, what guarantee was there that he wouldn’t backslide? Anne Marie wasn’t willing to risk that. No, it was better that Ellen never f ind out about this.

Having justif ied her decision yet again, Anne Marie was determined to stand by it. She got ready for bed and, unlike her daughter, managed to sit up and read for at least thirty minutes. But despite her most strenuous efforts, her thoughts repeatedly returned to Tim and their telephone conversation. After she’d read the same paragraph three times and still missed its meaning, she slammed the book shut and set it on her nightstand.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, switching off the lamp. She slid down in bed, arranged her pillows and nestled against them, then closed her eyes.

Instantly Tim Carlsen’s image rose before her. “Go away,” she groaned out loud. “Leave me alone.”

She turned onto her side and tried to force herself to sleep. An hour later she was still awake.

After Robert’s death, Anne Marie had diff iculty sleeping. For a while she’d taken coated aspirins that were supposed to aid sleep without upsetting her stomach. They almost always worked. Retrieving a tablet from the bathroom, she swallowed it, then sat in the living room for another thirty minutes, knitting while she waited to feel sleepy. But even knitting didn’t quiet her thoughts. Anne Marie sighed, feeling confusion, guilt, frustration. If Ellen hadn’t mentioned her father, she would’ve dropped the whole matter and the two of them would’ve gone peacefully about their lives.

What was it with kids? Ellen seemed to have built-in radar, zeroing in on the very topic Anne Marie wanted to avoid. Finally Anne Marie yawned and went back to bed. She crawled under the covers and closed her eyes with renewed determination to cast out all thoughts of Tim Carlsen and his unreasonable request.

She still couldn’t sleep.

Her mind whirled with a thousand different subjects. She’d talked to two real estate agents that day and had an appointment to look at a house after the holiday weekend. But regardless of what entered her mind, her thoughts always came back to one subject. Tim Carlsen.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. Throwing on her bathrobe, Anne Marie marched down the stairs to the bookstore. She switched off the alarm and turned on the lights as she went into her off ice, where she’d left the phone numbers Tim had given her. She punched out his home number, her jaw tight and her teeth clenched.

His phone rang four times. She half expected a greeting to come on, inviting her to leave a message.

It didn’t.

Instead, a groggy Tim answered. “This better be good,” he said hoarsely.

“Tim?”

A short pause followed. “Anne Marie?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“What time is it?”

Anne Marie hadn’t even checked. “Midnight,” she said, glancing at the store clock. She wasn’t about to apologize for phoning so late. He was the one who’d kept her up.

“Is Ellen all right?”

“Yes.”

“And you phoned because…”

“Because I’ve decided you can have Ellen’s DNA tested, but only under one condition.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Name it.”

“She can’t know.” That was Anne Marie’s stipulation and if Tim balked at that, it was over right then and there.

“Okay.”

She hadn’t expected him to agree so fast.

“When?” he asked.

“I…” Anne Marie hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Could we meet this weekend?”

“That’s the Fourth of July. We have plans.” It was the truth; she and Ellen would be with Melissa and her family for a barbecue.