Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(78)

“Where do you think she might be?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I…I don’t know. I never expected her to be gone this long.”

I started to rub my palms together, a nervous habit I’d developed over the summer—or more accurately, since Casey’s arrival. I could tell that Brad’s day hadn’t gone well, because it wasn’t like him to be short-tempered. “Well, where did she say she was going?” he asked impatiently.

“That’s just it. She didn’t.”

Brad frowned, even harder this time. “Do you suppose she’s run away again?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “No, why would she?”

“Why does she do anything?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air. “That kid’s impossible to understand.” He grinned, then added, “You’d think she was a teenager or something.”

The “or something” was right. Casey wouldn’t actually be a teenager until the following year, but she showed all the signs of being one now—especially the moodiness.

“She’ll be back,” Margaret assured us. She f inished counting out change for a customer who’d come in to purchase an extra skein when she’d run out of yarn on a project.

“How can you be so sure?” Brad asked when the woman had gone.

“Two things.” Margaret walked around the counter. “First, Casey didn’t collect her pay for this morning and secondly—”

Margaret pointed at the crocheting Casey had left on the lesson table “—she didn’t take her work with her.”

I nodded; my sister was right. “You might as well relax until she turns up,” I advised my husband.

Brad muttered a comment under his breath, then accepted the inevitability of waiting. Sighing heavily, he sat down at the table. Five minutes later, Casey strolled in as though she’d hardly been away at all.

Instantly Brad was on his feet. “Where were you?” he demanded.

“Out,” Casey blurted, glaring at him def iantly. In an effort to avoid an argument, I rested my hand on Brad’s. “Everything’s f ine now. She’s back and she’s safe.”

Casey pretended not to hear me as she walked over to the table and grabbed her crocheting, stuff ing it inside the quilted bag I’d lent her. Then she straightened. “Are you ready?” she asked as if Brad had kept her waiting.

Brad glanced at me, eyebrows raised. I shook my head as the two of them left, giving each other the silent treatment. Margaret watched them walk away and turned to me. “I bet you’ll be glad when she’s out of the house.”

I didn’t know exactly what I’d feel. What surprised me, though, was the sense of loss that came over me at that statement.

Despite the diff iculties we’d had with Casey, I’d become genuinely fond of the girl. I would miss her, and so would Brad and Cody.

In fact, Casey’s stay with us had been good for our son. He’d learned the concept of sharing. Cody was the sole focus of our love and attention. Of course we hoped to add another child to our family, but as it was now, our lives revolved around his. He’d been a friend to Casey, and in the process had learned communication skills. Despite the moodiness she sometimes displayed, she seemed to like him.

“I’m going to miss her.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud until my sister made a huff ing sound. “What does that mean?”

I asked, challenging Margaret to state her opinion. She sent me that familiar disapproving look and simply shook her head.

That evening Alix was the f irst to arrive for class. As she walked into the store, I could smell cigarette smoke on her. As if she could guess what I was thinking, she announced to both Margaret and me, “Okay, I’m smoking again. I went four days without a cigarette but I’m back to three a day, so don’t give me any grief.”

Obviously Alix and Casey were both in unsociable moods that day. “Three is better than ten or twenty or whatever you started out with.” I wanted her to be aware that I wouldn’t judge her.

“There is medical help, you know,” Margaret said. “And if you weren’t so stubborn you’d get it.”

“No.” Alix brief ly shut her eyes. “I can do this. If I’m a little short-tempered it’s because I just smoked my last cigarette for the day and I’m already craving another.”

It was more than needing a cigarette. Alix was so rarely that I knew something else was troubling her. And my guess was that it had to do with Jordan. He wasn’t with her, although he usually walked her to class and then either went over to the church or met with a men’s group while Alix knitted.

“Jordan isn’t with you tonight?” I ventured.

“No,” she snapped.

I held up both hands as if to say sorry I asked—and I was. Margaret, however, had never steered clear of a fight. “What is it with everyone today?” she said, arms akimbo. “First Casey and now you.”

Alix’s shoulders relaxed. “I didn’t mean to be cranky. Jordan and I had a small argument.”

“I’m sorry.” I could sympathize. Whenever Brad and I were irritated with each other, I felt dreadful. I’m sure I wasn’t much fun at times like that, either.