Ava hurried into the kitchen and returned with a beer can. She handed it to her grandmother.
“You could open it for me, you know,” Mrs. Carmichael complained, as she took the aluminum can out of her granddaughter’s hand. “I’ve got arthritis in my hands. I wish you’d learn to be more thoughtful.”
“Sorry, Grandma.”
Darlene Carmichael mumbled under her breath. She handed the empty can to Ava and took a deep swallow from the full one before setting it down next to the ashtray.
“I was saying that Ava looks like she’s gained weight over the summer,” Lydia said. “And I—”
“I’ve been telling her the same thing,” Mrs. Carmichael said, interrupting her. “I tried to put her on a diet but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”
“I believe I know the reason for Ava’s weight gain,” Lydia said, speaking quickly. She refused to be deterred. Either she forged ahead or lost her nerve.
“So do I.”
Lydia straightened. “You do?”
“She doesn’t get enough exercise. Ava spends half the day in her bedroom, and she steals snacks out of the kitchen. I swear Ava and her brother eat me out of house and home. They think money grows on trees, apparently. Last week alone I spent over a hundred dollars on groceries. I can’t afford that and now they need new school clothes. Jackson wants to play sports and he had to get a physical. Those doctor visits don’t come cheap.” She shook her head as though overwhelmed by it all.
“I think the weight gain might be due to more than snacks between meals,” Lydia suggested.
“Oh?” Darlene Carmichael frowned.
“I’m afraid Ava might …” Lydia paused and gathered her courage. “Actually, I believe Ava might be pregnant.”
“Ava, pregnant?” The old woman laughed as though this was a bad joke. “No way. She’s only thirteen.”
“I know. She needs to see a physician.”
Darlene rose to her feet, paused just long enough to take another drink of her beer. Then she shouted for Ava, who’d recently left the room. “Ava, get in here!” Her shrill voice rang through the house like a foghorn.
Nothing.
“Ava!” she shouted again, more threatening this time. “Get in here. Now.”
The bedroom door opened again and Ava slowly made her way down the long, narrow hallway. Her grandmother met her halfway and grabbed her by the upper arm, practically dragging her into the living room. She brought her to stand in front of Lydia. Ava hung her head.
Lydia wanted to shout for Darlene to release the girl but knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“Are you pregnant?” Darlene Carmichael demanded of her granddaughter.
Tears streamed down Ava’s ashen face. “No, Grandma.”
Darlene let go of Ava’s arm as if that was all the proof she needed. “What did I tell you?” she stated calmly. “The girl eats too much. Isn’t that right?” The question was posed to Ava.
“Yes,” Ava whispered, keeping her head lowered.
“Now I think you should know that I don’t appreciate you coming into my home and making accusations. I take care of my own, and my granddaughter doesn’t sleep around.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I know you probably mean well,” Darlene said, cutting Lydia off. “But I don’t appreciate you butting your head into my family business. Ava says she’s not pregnant and I believe her. I don’t know what makes you think my granddaughter is having a baby, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Now I’d appreciate it if you left my home.”
“I … I …”
Darlene walked to the front door and held open the screen door. “You listen, Ms. Goetz, if I hear any rumors about my granddaughter sleeping around I’ll know where they got started. So you better not be saying anything about my Ava, understand?”
“Of course … I wouldn’t.”
“Now it’s time for you to go.”
Lydia reached for her purse and stood. “I understand. I apologize; I didn’t mean to upset you, Mrs. Carmichael.”
“I’ve met busybodies like you before, sticking your nose into everyone’s business, pretending to be all neighborly,” she said, frowning all the while. “Bringing cookies … well, you can take that plate back home with you. We don’t want them and we don’t need them. Most likely Ava would eat the whole plate herself and then you’d be telling me she’s giving birth to twins.”
Lydia walked out of the house. She paused and turned around and saw that Darlene was still standing in the doorway as if she wanted to be sure Lydia didn’t linger.
“Mrs. Carmichael, if you … if you find out differently about Ava, please feel free to call me. I want to help.”
Darlene’s scowl deepened. “I believe you’ve already done more than enough.”
With a heavy heart, Lydia drove back to the house. Both Brad and Casey were waiting for her when she walked into the kitchen.
“Well?” Casey asked.
“How’d it go?” Brad asked.
No need to sugarcoat the truth. “It was dreadful, just dreadful,” she whispered. Lydia had felt sorry for Ava before, but now that she’d seen her home life, she felt like weeping. Tuesday she’d talk to Libby and see what the two of them could do to help poor, sweet Ava.
Chapter 21
Libby walked into A Good Yarn fifteen minutes after ten. She didn’t want to appear overly eager but she was excited about talking to Ava. It had taken real courage for the teenager to contact her. While progress had been slow, she could see that they were making headway.
“Morning,” Libby greeted as she entered the store. Her gaze automatically went to the back of the shop, where Casey and Ava generally hung out. The table was empty.
“I’m so glad you’re here early,” Lydia said, coming around the front counter and taking Libby’s hands in her own. Dark shadows appeared under her eyes as though she hadn’t slept well.
“Lydia, what happened?”
The other woman looked like she was about to break into tears. “Oh, Libby, I think I made a terrible mistake.” She started toward the back of the store and into the office where she kept a microwave. She filled the teapot with water and set it inside, then pushed the button to heat the water.
“I’ll feel better with a cup of tea.” She automatically brought down two cups.
“Where are Casey and Ava?” The pregnant teenager had told Libby she would be at the yarn store on Tuesday and now there was no evidence of either girl.
“I know, I know. Ava was at the house yesterday afternoon,” Lydia explained. “She stayed in Casey’s bedroom most of the day, crying her eyes out.”
“Why, what happened?” Libby was immediately alarmed.
“I think your talk with her … the day you took her to lunch …”
“Yes. Did I do anything to upset Ava?”
“No … no, it wasn’t anything you did. Frankly, I don’t think Ava realized she was pregnant until you told her.”
“I was afraid of that.” Clearly Ava was several months along. In discussing the matter with Phillip, he thought she might even be heading into her eighth month. The baby must be growing and moving.
“And now she’s frightened to death. Her biggest fear isn’t for her own well-being or even that of the baby. She seems most concerned about what her grandmother will do once she finds out.”
“Oh, no.” Libby felt dreadful and wondered what she could do to help.
“Casey pleaded with me to go over to Ava’s grandmother’s house and talk to her,” Lydia continued. “Casey was convinced that once Darlene Carmichael knew about the baby the worst would be over. She thought Ava could then get the medical attention she needs. All the poor girl could do was worry about hiding the pregnancy from her grandmother.”
Libby already knew what was coming. “You told the grandmother, didn’t you?”
“I tried. It wasn’t a job I relished. I talked it over with Brad and we both felt I should probably be
the one. Ava trusts you but you’ve never met Darlene Carmichael and we thought she’d probably take the news better from me than from someone she’d never met.”
Libby agreed. “How’d it go?”
The microwave beeped and Lydia shook her head. “I doubt it could have gone much worse.”
“Oh dear.”
Lydia removed the teapot and then added two tea bags, which she allowed to steep. Carrying the ceramic pot to the table, she set it down next to the empty cups.
“Oh, Libby, you can’t imagine how awful it was,” Lydia said. “I brought a plate of cookies and if I hadn’t I don’t think Darlene would have even let me in the house. Ava mentioned that her grandmother is upset because she thinks she’s getting fat, so that was the way I approached her.”
Libby nodded, hoping to encourage her.
“When I suggested there was a reason Ava had gained all that weight and what I suspected, she dragged Ava into the room and asked her outright if she was pregnant or not.”
“What did Ava say?”
“She denied it. Really, who could blame her? I probably would have done the same thing.”
“In other words the grandmother refused to believe it?”
Lydia nodded, her brown eyes round and sad. “She claimed Ava was just fat and that I was a busybody … and she basically threatened me if I started spreading rumors about her granddaughter sleeping around.”
“Oh, Lydia …” Libby felt dreadful for her friend, and for Ava, too.
“I don’t think that’s the worst of it, though.”
“What do you mean?”
Lydia sat down and poured them each a cup of tea. The steam rose from the cups. Her hand lingered on the teapot as she set it back down on the table. “This morning Casey phoned Ava to tell her we were on our way to pick her up so she would be ready when we got there.”
“And?” Libby feared she already knew what was coming.
“Ava said she couldn’t come. Her grandmother won’t let her have anything more to do with me or Casey.”
At first Libby was at a loss for words, but as Lydia had said, Ava trusted her. “Maybe I should stop by her house this morning,” she suggested. Perhaps if she talked to Ava, reassured her that everything would work out, then the teenager might agree to let Libby pay for a visit to the doctor. She’d talk to Sharon first and get a recommendation for a female obstetrician from her. Libby’s own was male but she felt Ava might be more comfortable with a woman. Normally she would have asked Phillip. He was the first person who popped into her mind, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to do that. Still, he remained constantly in her thoughts.
“Would you be willing to go see Ava?” Lydia asked. “I’d feel so much better if you did.”
“Of course.” She sipped her tea and brought out her knitting. When Libby was this upset putting her hands to work calmed her. She wasn’t sure how this newly developed habit would play out in the office when dealing with a client, though. The thought of her reaching for her knitting in the middle of a legal discussion produced a smile.
“I feel just terrible,” Lydia murmured, elbows at her sides, holding her teacup with both hands.
“You did what you could,” Libby assured her. “I doubt it would have gone any better no matter who told Ava’s grandmother. While she might choose to deny that Ava is pregnant, she’ll be forced to acknowledge the truth soon enough.”
“But what happens until then?”
The teenager was Libby’s biggest concern as well. “I’ll do what I can to help her.”
“I’m so grateful.”
The bell above the door chimed, announcing a customer. Lydia helped the knitter, who was looking for alpaca yarn. She rang up the sale and then returned to the table.
“Where’s Casey today?” Libby asked. She liked talking to Lydia’s daughter. Perhaps she could learn something from her.
Lydia reached for her own knitting. “She’s with my mother. Casey and my mother have a special bond. Our daughter never knew any of her grandparents before we adopted her and she loves listening to my mother’s stories. She simply enjoys spending time with Mom, and it’s good for my mother, too. I do worry, though …” She let the rest fade.
“Worry?”
“My mother’s health is failing and I can’t help being concerned how Casey will deal with the loss once Mom … dies.” Her voice cracked as the last half of the comment came in a whisper, as if she had a difficult time facing the possibility of life without her mother.
“Don’t borrow trouble,” Libby suggested. This was something her own mother had told her. “There’s enough to handle for today; we don’t need to take on the worries of another day.”
Lydia’s hands rested in her lap. “You’re right.”
The back door that led to the alley where the staff parked opened and Margaret came into the store. She smiled when she saw Libby. After greetings all around, Margaret tucked her purse away, grabbed a cup, and joined them at the table. Soon the three were chatting, occasionally interrupted by a customer.
After hearing about the events of the night before, Margaret offered Lydia her own words of reassurance and basically said the same thing Libby had. It wouldn’t have mattered who delivered the news, Darlene’s reactions would have been the same.
“Ava will listen to you,” Margaret assured Libby. “She looks up to you.”
Libby appreciated the encouragement. She needed it.
Libby remained at the store until lunchtime. “I’ll get something to eat and take it over to Ava’s with me,” she said. She would bring a green salad and fresh fruit. As she gathered her knitting and her purse, she experienced a wave of affection for these two women who had become her friends.
For Libby to have spent two hours in a yarn store, visiting with Lydia and Margaret, would have been completely unheard-of only a few months ago. Once her law practice took off, she probably wouldn’t find the time to do it often.
She hadn’t taken a lot of time in the last ten years to cultivate friendships. There simply weren’t enough hours in a day to work as hard and long as she did and still have time for a social life. Her new friends gave her a sense of belonging, and community. Libby knew she could discuss her troubles with Lydia and Margaret and they would listen, really listen, because they cared and wanted what was best for her.
Making friends hadn’t happened overnight, but gradually, as she extended herself, she found connections with others. By being open she’d been the one to receive this precious gift of friendship. There was Sharon Jennings from the hospital, and Libby had connected with Abby Higginbotham in HR, too. They’d met for coffee in the hospital cafeteria a couple of times and had laughed together.
Phillip, too.
Her spirits faltered as she thought about him—not that he was ever far from her mind.
Phillip had been another surprise, but instead of appreciating him for the gift he was, she’d blown it, which was fairly typical of most of her relationships with men. She had no one to blame but herself, but this time she felt deep regret, and an even deeper sense of loss. She couldn’t help wondering if it was too late to make things right with him. She’d like to try but was afraid.
On her way out the door of A Good Yarn, Libby checked her cell to be sure she hadn’t inadvertently missed Sarah’s call. The paralegal had said she’d get back to her about the job offer after she’d spoken to her husband. Libby expected her to phone at any time.
No calls. Surely she’d hear from Sarah by the end of the day.
After stopping by The French Cafe for two take-out lunches, Libby got into her car and checked the address Lydia had given her for Ava’s grandmother’s house. She followed the tin voice from the navigational guide to Jefferson Street, and parked in front of a plain white house.
The first thing she noticed was that the yard needed mowing. Where once there’d been flowerbeds, there was now nothing but tall weeds. The contrast between this house and the one next to it was s
triking. The lawn next door was well groomed, with vibrant flowers hanging from baskets across the porch. Two boys sat on the front steps of the neighbor’s house, one holding a basketball.
Libby opened her car door and climbed out. She walked down the cracked cement walkway leading to the front door and rang the doorbell. No one answered right away, so she knocked against the wood.
One of the boys from the house next door ran across the lawn toward her. “Whatever you’re selling, we aren’t buying.”
Libby smiled at the youth, who looked to be fifteen, maybe slightly older. “I’m here to see Ava.”
“What for?” he demanded. He tucked the basketball under his arm and regarded her suspiciously.
“I’m a friend of hers. Just tell her Libby is here.”
He broke into a smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth. “Are you the lady who took her to a restaurant lunch the other day?”
“That’s me.”
He relaxed right away. “Oh, hi, I’m Jackson.”
“Ava’s brother.”
“That’s me,” he said. “Come on in. I’ll get Ava for you.” He opened the front door and led the way into the house. “Ava!” he shouted. “You’ve got company.”
Libby stood in the middle of the living room and looked around. A couple of empty beer cans sat next to an overflowing ashtray by a recliner. Her attention went to the kitchen. The table still had dirty breakfast dishes on it—crusted bowls and a cereal box, plus an empty milk container that was on its side. The sink appeared to be filled with unwashed dishes.
The bedroom door opened, and Libby saw Ava walking toward her. Ava broke into a smile as soon as she saw her. “Libby, what are you doing here?”
“I thought we were going to meet up at the yarn store?”
The teen’s face went slack. “Grandma said I can’t go there anymore.”
“Oh dear, then I guess that means I’ll just have to come to you. Have you had lunch yet?”
Ava shook her head.
Jackson spoke. “She didn’t eat breakfast, either.”
Instinctively Libby knew why. If Ava stopped eating she’d lose weight and her grandmother might not guess she was pregnant. “Oh, Ava, you need to eat.”
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