Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(45)

“My mom and dad divorced when I was too young to remember my dad,” she said.

“What happened to your mom?” I asked when she didn’t immediately continue. I know I’d do whatever it took to make sure I kept Cody with me. My instincts toward our son were no less maternal than if I’d given birth to him myself. His mother, Brad’s ex-wife, drifted in and out of his life whenever the impulse struck her. Janice seemed to undergo periods of guilt, and then she’d want to spend time with Cody every week; after that, a month, sometimes two, would go by and we wouldn’t hear from her. Cody accepted whatever time Janice gave him, and never asked either Brad or me when he’d see his mother again.

“Did she die, Casey?” I asked, since Casey hadn’t replied.

“Forgive me for bringing it up if the subject’s too painful.”

“No,” she said softly, slowly. “It’s okay. She died, but it was…

later.”

She put aside her fork. “Mom got involved with this guy who used to slap her around. Lee tried to step in, but he beat Lee up, too.” She stared down at her plate as she spoke. “Then Martin started hitting me, and my teacher noticed the bruises and called Child Protective Services.”

“And they took you and your brother out of the home?”

Casey nodded. “The state said if Mom wanted to keep her children, Martin had to leave. But Mom loved Martin—and the things he bought her.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You mean your mother chose a man who abused her and her kids?” It was appalling to me—beyond appalling—that any mother would abandon her own children.

“Mom said we should go live with our dad, only no one knew where he was. When the state couldn’t f ind him, Lee and I were put in foster homes.”

“Oh, Casey, I’m so sorry.” I reached across the table and clasped her arm.

“Hey, it’s no big deal.”

She began eating again, but I could tell it was more to get me to move my hand than from any interest in her meal.

“What happened to your mother after you and Lee were out of the house?”

She went rigid, the fork still in her hand. “I don’t know. She died about three years ago. I think it was from drugs. Martin was her supplier.”

“Oh, Casey.”

She shrugged as if it hadn’t affected her one way or the other, but no child could remain untouched by that kind of betrayal. After lunch we drove back home. To my pleasure and surprise Casey wanted to bake cookies. After assembling all the ingredients, I let her work by herself while I folded laundry. Despite a small mishap, in which she set a kitchen towel on f ire taking the cookie sheet out of the oven, she did a good job. As she dealt with the dishes I went into the other room to call Evelyn Boyle. I told her that Brad, Cody and I had talked, and we’d arrived at a consensus—to let Casey stay with us until she’d f inished her summer school program. I could hear the relief in Evelyn’s voice.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “Casey’s doing so well with you and Brad.” Evelyn phoned Casey at least once a week. I wasn’t privy to the conversations and assumed the case worker knew better than I did how Casey was adjusting to our family. The f irst real sign of improvement I’d seen had come that afternoon. Apparently we’d made an impact on the girl’s life, and that thrilled me.

While I had Evelyn on the phone, I asked her about Casey’s parents. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe what the girl had said, but I suspected parts of her story were exaggerated. I was shocked to learn that everything Casey had told me was the truth.

“How’d the meeting between Casey and her brother go?”

Evelyn asked.

“Very well. She seemed like a different person afterward.”

“That’s wonderful.” Evelyn’s voice rang with satisfaction.

“You’ve made my day—no, make that my whole week.”

I f igured she had plenty of weeks when nothing at all went right, so I felt especially pleased that I’d contributed to one of her better days.

“Does Casey know she’ll be with you until summer school is out?”

“Not yet.” Brad and I planned to tell her at dinner that night, when the whole family was together.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Evelyn said fervently. I knew she’d been under tremendous pressure and that by volunteering, Brad and I had taken a load off her shoulders. The fact that Casey and Cody were now getting along made the decision easy.

That evening, as we sat around the dinner table, I gave Brad a meaningful look. He winked at me, understanding my signal that he should break the news to Casey.

“So, Casey,” he said as he passed the macaroni salad to Cody.

“I hear you had an exciting afternoon.”

She nodded. “I saw my brother.”

Cody grinned from ear to ear. “Tell her, Dad.”

Casey glanced from one to the other. “Tell me what?”

“Mrs. Boyle asked if you could stay with us until you f inished summer school. Your new foster home is in north Seattle, and rather than move you to another place so far from the school, we thought it’d be best if you stayed here.”

We all waited for Casey’s reaction.

“Okay,” she said.