“How do you remember the things that upset her?” Leslie asked, genuine interest in her eyes. “I mean, they can be such small things. And it seems like they could be anything.”
Erica considered the question as she glanced at Siena again to make sure she was still in control of herself. “I suppose it isn’t any different than with anyone you love. You just learn and remember the little things about them that are important because you care about them.”
Leslie bit her lower lip and nodded. “Should I get rid of the burgers?”
“Would you mind?” Erica gave her an apologetic look. “She’s not going to want to sit near them.”
“No problem.” Leslie rose and grabbed the bag, then headed back to her house.
“Siena,” Erica called, “whenever you’re ready, come eat some dinner. The hamburgers are gone.”
Siena didn’t answer, but Erica knew she’d heard because she rose to her feet from her squatting position.
By the time Leslie returned, Siena was in her seat with a drumstick, some orange chicken, an ear of corn sitting in a pool of melted butter, and a lone pot sticker she’d conceded to trying on her plate. Leslie seemed a bit subdued, and Erica noticed Siena scanning the tabletop every few minutes as though checking to ensure the offending burgers hadn’t somehow found their way back, but all in all, everything appeared to be mostly back to normal. Erica smiled to herself, categorizing the incident as a success. “Did you get some things checked off your list today?” she asked Leslie, keeping her manner casual.
Leslie glanced at Siena, then took a deep breath. “I did,” she said, scooping some vegetable fried rice onto her plate. “I have furniture coming on Thursday. Just the basics. I’ll have to go out again when I figure out what I want to do with the extra bedrooms. I even ordered an outdoor set, a patio swing, and some lounge chairs to go by the pool, in case, you know…” She winked at Erica. “I have a pool party or something.”
Erica blushed. It would be a while before she heard the end of this one.
“Did you get a blue couch?” Siena asked eagerly.
“Oh, Siena,” Erica said, “not the blue couch again.”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Leslie grinned at Siena. “And it’s the best blue couch I’ve ever seen. Wait till it comes. You’re going to love it.”
Siena let out a loud squeal and bounced in her chair. “See, Mommy. Blue couches are fun!”
Erica laughed. “All right, I stand corrected. I’m outnumbered.” She looked at Leslie questioningly. Had she and Siena really talked about her getting a blue couch?
While they ate, Siena gave Leslie a recount of her and Gus’s day, which included the slaying of a dragon right in Erica’s backyard. Erica hadn’t had a clue. Gus, apparently, had been very brave. When only the lone pot sticker still sat, untried, on Siena’s plate, Erica said, “What happened to just a taste?”
Siena frowned. “I don’t know what’s inside.”
“That’s easy,” Leslie said. “I’ll show you.” She cut one of her own in half, then flipped it around with her fork to display the contents. “It’s a mixture of…” She peered into the dumpling. “Well, I’m not sure either. But it’s really good.” She stabbed half of it, swirled it around in a puddle of soy sauce, and stuck it in her mouth.
Siena watched closely, then looked at her own. She picked it up with her fingers and took a miniscule bite. She chewed much longer than the small amount could possibly require.
Erica rolled her eyes.
“Well?” Leslie asked.
Siena took another bite, this one bigger. “It is good,” she said, sounding surprised.
“I told you.” Leslie popped the rest of her own into her mouth. “You can trust me. I won’t steer you wrong.” She exchanged an amused glance with Erica.
Siena ate two more, then asked if she could be excused.
“You may, but it’s time for your bath, and then bed,” Erica said, geared for the usual argument. “It’s a school night for you.”
“Why do I have school tomorrow but you don’t?” Siena asked.
“Because my school has a vacation before the next semester starts.” Erica began closing the takeout containers. “Your summer program goes right up until your regular school starts.”
“That’s not fair.” Siena slipped off her chair.
“I know.” This was a standard exchange between them that took place any time Siena felt the injustice of the world.
“Can Gus take a bath with me?”
“Gus just had one yesterday. Remember?” Leslie said before Erica could answer. “I think he’s clean, but maybe he can sit in the bathroom with you to keep you company, if it’s all right with your mom.”
“That’s fine,” Erica said as she stood and picked up two of the plates. “Run and get your pajamas, and I’ll be right up to fill the tub.”
“I can get this,” Leslie said, rising to Erica’s side. She took the dishes from her.
Erica looked up at her in surprise. She remembered how shocked she’d been the previous night to come downstairs and find that Leslie had cleaned up everything. She was sweet, but it made Erica uncomfortable. “That’s okay. You brought dinner. I’ll deal with it after Siena’s in bed.” She might as well agree, though. Leslie would most likely take care of it while Erica was upstairs, like the night before.
“I don’t mind,” Leslie said. “You go.”
Erica smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to leave, then hesitated. “There’s some wine in the fridge, if you’d like to stay for a while. I’d love some adult conversation.”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
With Siena tucked into bed, Erica came downstairs to find the kitchen spotless again and Leslie seated at the cleaned-off patio table with a glass of white zin in hand and another beside her. The bottle sat in the center. Leslie’s long legs were stretched out, and her head was tilted back, her attention on the night sky. Erica remembered Siena’s recitation of “Star Light, Star Bright.” She wondered if Leslie was making a wish and, if so, what it might be. “Siena would like you to come up and say good night,” she said from the doorway.
Leslie twisted around in her chair, then stood, looking surprised. “Okay, sure.” She picked up the second glass and held it out to Erica. “Why don’t you relax. I’ll be right back.”
Erica was touched by the simple gesture and Leslie’s willingness to take the time to say good night to Siena. A lot about Leslie touched her. “I think I will.” She took a seat and set the baby monitor she carried on the table.
Leslie glanced at it.
“I still use it at night for peace of mind, so I can hear if she gets up or has a bad dream.” Erica was a little embarrassed to admit this overprotective characteristic of her nature to someone who wasn’t the parent of a child on the spectrum. In her support group, she wasn’t an oddity, but most parents of neuro-typical children had put away the baby monitor well before their child was seven. Then she realized Leslie might not even know what it was, since she didn’t have kids. “It’s a nursery monitor.”
Leslie gave her a look of understanding. “I know. And I get it.”
Erica held Leslie’s gaze a little too long, as a sense of truly being seen and accepted stirred deep within her. She brushed her hair back and glanced out into the yard. “Her room’s upstairs, second door on the left.” She took a sip of wine.
After almost ten minutes, she realized she’d failed to turn on the monitor, as she customarily did when leaving Siena’s room. It was as though she’d known somehow Sienna would be safe with Leslie. Even so, they were at such an early stage of whatever this was between them. She quickly flipped it on to hear Leslie reading the familiar lines from The House at Pooh Corner, one of Sienna’s favorite books, and smiled. She settled back into her chair and listened. Leslie’s voice was soothing as it drifted through the speaker.
When the story ended, there was a silence, then the creak of the rocking chair Erica knew so well. S
he pictured Leslie rising.
“Come on, Gus,” Leslie whispered.
“I want him to stay until I go to sleep,” Siena said drowsily.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Another silence and Erica could see Siena shaking her head, her eyelids drooping.
“All right, but you need to go to sleep. No playing,” Leslie said. “And, Gus, don’t you start reading another book and keep her awake.”
Siena giggled softly.
The sound filled Erica’s heart.
“Good night, Siena,” Leslie said with a chuckle.
“Good night.”
Erica waited to see if Siena remembered to say thank you for the story.
She didn’t.
As Leslie sat down across from her once more, Erica watched her. “You do a great Winnie the Pooh voice,” she said teasingly. “And your Piglet…” She lifted her wine in a toast.
Leslie glanced at the monitor. Her cheeks pinkened under the mini white lights that softly illuminated the patio. “Thank you.” She touched her glass to Erica’s.
Erica laughed quietly. “Don’t be embarrassed. That was the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time. And the melody you put with Pooh’s outdoor hum…Well, that was pure—”
“All right.” Leslie chuckled. “You realize you weren’t supposed to hear any of that, right? I mean, clearly, I forgot about the monitor.”
“I’m serious,” Erica said. And she was. “Yes, I’m having fun with it, but that’s just to get even for your earlier remark about having a pool party. It really was charming. And thank you for reading Siena a bedtime story.” Never mind that I already read her one and she was stalling. Siena did love The House at Pooh Corner, though, and would listen to it over and over again.
Leslie ducked her head with a sheepish grin. “Well, thanks.”
A flutter of arousal tickled Erica’s more sensitive parts. Her nipples tightened. There was so much about Leslie that turned her on—her looks, her kindness, her genuine interest in Siena, and now, this adorable shyness. She was enjoying this budding friendship too much to go there, though. She wasn’t going to jeopardize it, or the one blooming between Leslie and Siena, for a tumble between the sheets. “Would you like some more wine?” she asked, noticing Leslie’s glass.
“That’d be nice,” Leslie said, clearly grateful for the change in subject.
Erica poured Leslie a refill, then added to her own. She felt nervous for some reason, then realized this was the first time they’d been alone together, where they could have an actual grownup conversation. There were so many things she wanted to ask, not the least of which was to revisit the question of whether Leslie had, or had ever had, kids. Especially after hearing her read to Siena, not to mention how naturally she interacted with her. She couldn’t believe she didn’t have more experience than simply being around other people’s children. But Leslie had seemed uncomfortable with the subject, so Erica moved on. “Do you have a job waiting for you once you’re settled?”
Leslie sipped her wine, then leaned back and sighed. “I have work waiting for me—a ton of it—as soon as I can get Wi-Fi hooked up in the house. It’s first on my list tomorrow.” She visibly relaxed into the subject. “I’m a website designer. Self-employed. So I didn’t have to quit a job to move out here, then find another one. I just had to time the move between some big projects and take off a couple weeks from a few others.”
Erica raised an eyebrow, impressed. “A website designer. That sounds interesting.”
“It can be,” Leslie said, looking thoughtful. “Or it can be incredibly boring, depending on the site. I’ve learned a lot about different subjects. What I like best, though, is the creativity involved and the freedom from a nine to five schedule. I can work whenever I want, even in the middle of the night, as long as I get the job done.”
“That sounds heavenly,” Erica said, trying to imagine, but it was the routine of the life she’d built here with Siena that they’d needed.
“Speaking of schedules,” Leslie continued. “You said you’re off right now?”
“I did?” Erica had no recollection of that.
“Well, okay, you told Siena the reason she has school tomorrow and you don’t is that yours has a break before the next semester. Are you a student or a teacher?”
“Ah, yes, I do remember that,” Erica said. It was refreshing to have someone around to witness the conversations that seemed so repetitive sometimes. “I teach journalism at Pasadena City College.”
Leslie looked intrigued. “Why journalism?”
“It made the most sense,” Erica said with a small shrug. “I used to work in television news, I have a master’s degree, and colleges are always eager to hire instructors that have field experience. Hearing from someone who’s actually lived the life makes it more interesting to students, not to mention the contacts and connections we have.”
Leslie nodded. “Did you work around here?”
“No. I was in Chicago.”
“Chicago? How’d you end up in California—and Burbank, of all places?”
Erica laughed. “It was for Siena. She needed someplace quieter. Being in such a busy big city, the tall buildings, the trains, the noise in general—all made it hard for her to be out in the world. Years ago, we had friends who lived in Burbank, and I always liked the older, quieter neighborhoods, while still being so close to the conveniences and activity of a larger city like Los Angeles, so I looked for a job in this area.”
“That’s quite a change, going from something so fast paced as broadcast news in Chicago to college professor in Burbank.”
Erica ran her fingertips up and down the stem of her wine glass, remembering all the decisions she’d had to make during that time. “It wasn’t as abrupt of a shift as it sounds. I’d already taken a leave of absence when Siena was born. Then shortly after she turned a year old and we realized something wasn’t quite right with her development, we started taking her to specialists. When she was actually diagnosed with ASD, I decided not to go back to work and stay home with her. A year and a half later, we moved here.”
“Those are all big decisions,” Leslie said softly.
Erica considered each one. “I guess they are, but they didn’t seem so at the time. As each came up, all I had to do was listen to my heart, and my heart said to do what Siena needed. So I did. And I’m glad.” She took in the peace and comfort of her backyard. “Because each one led us here, and Siena is doing much better.” When her gaze met Leslie’s once again, she realized she hadn’t allowed herself to think about that major life change from an emotional perspective in a long time—and she’d never talked about it. Usually, she avoided the topic altogether, keeping any explanations factual. She couldn’t help but wonder, once again, about this new next-door neighbor.
“What?” Leslie asked into the silence.
Erica smiled slightly, a little embarrassed. “You’re easy to talk to.”
Leslie hesitated. “Thanks,” she said, looking into the tree as though there was something of interest there.
Erica knew there wasn’t.
“It’s great that you and your husband were on the same page with all that,” Leslie said.
“What?” Erica asked, confused at what seemed like a drastic change in subject. Trent?
“I’d think some couples would have difficulty agreeing on those kinds of priorities,” Leslie said. “Trent was obviously willing to relocate as well. I think that’s great.”
Erica blinked. “Oh,” she said, realizing the misunderstanding. She’d let Leslie assume they were still married. “Actually, Trent and I fall into the first category—the couples who don’t agree on priorities. He isn’t my husband. He’s my ex husband.”
Leslie looked confused. “Ex? But I thought…”
“He was just visiting.” Erica stifled her irritation at Trent’s early departure and focused on coming clean. If she sidestepped the topic one more time, it could be perceived as a deception, a
nd there was no reason for that. “We split up at about the halfway point between Siena’s diagnosis and the move out here. Siena and I came alone.”
“Oh,” Leslie said, straightening almost imperceptibly.
Had she lost a little color? “Trent’s always had difficulty accepting Siena’s autism,” Erica said, adopting her more matter-of-fact delivery.
Leslie’s forehead crinkled. “So he just left?” She seemed to have recovered from whatever her initial reaction had been, unless it’d simply been replaced by disbelief.
“Again, not as abruptly as it sounds. It happened over time.” Erica never liked people thinking badly of Trent. He was a decent guy. He just had his limitations. Don’t we all?
Leslie stared at her, evidently waiting for more.
Erica found she didn’t mind explaining. “He never wanted a traditional life with a stay-at-home wife, kids, and a steady, predictable job to go to every day. Neither of us did. When we met and fell in love, it was that element in our relationship that made it exciting. He loved being with a woman who was up-and-coming in the fast-paced world of broadcasting, who traveled all over at a moment’s notice, and I loved being with a band manager in the wild world of rock and roll. Neither of us wanted kids, and there was no room or time for them in our lives.”
“So what happened?”
Erica laughed. “Siena happened. I got pregnant. Against all odds. I was on the pill. I was forty-three. I was already in perimenopause, according to my gynecologist. Hell, Trent and I were barely having sex every couple of months by that time.”
Leslie made a face.
“Okay, TMI. But you get the picture,” Erica said with a chuckle. “And then, out of nowhere, there was this little baby fighting her way into the world.”
Leslie laughed. “She does know how to get her way.” A whine came from the other side of the screen door, and Leslie got up to let Gus out.
“Definitely.” Erica took in Leslie’s easy gait as she walked, enjoying the movement of her backside in her snug jeans. Then she lifted her wine to her lips as Leslie made her way back to her seat. “And she’s been doing it ever since.” She refocused. “The point is, Trent never wanted to have a family, and he’d been clear about that from the beginning. When I found out I was pregnant, he tried to go with it, but when Siena started showing signs of…” Erica sighed. “He certainly didn’t know what to do with a special needs child.”
A Wish Upon a Star Page 7
