“Just you?” Anne Marie feigned surprise.
“Yup, just me. Mrs. Maxwell said maybe by the time I’m in fourth or fifth grade I might get to sing a solo.”
“Ellen, that’s wonderful. Congratulations.” Anne Marie had never seen the girl this excited.
The classroom had begun to fill up with other children and parents.
“Would you like some juice?” Ellen asked politely. The juice and cookies were set up on a table in the front.
Anne Marie noticed that the other students were delivering refreshments to their parents.
“That would be very nice. Thank you, Ellen.”
The child waited for her turn and poured Anne Marie a small paper cup full of juice, which appeared to be some watered-down fruit punch. She also brought her two small cookies, definitely a store-bought variety.
“You didn’t get anything for yourself,” Anne Marie said.
“That’s because you’re supposed to serve your guests first,” Ellen informed her solemnly.
“Of course,” Anne Marie murmured. “I must’ve forgotten my manners.”
Silently Ellen stood next to her.
Anne Marie bent down and whispered, “What’s going to happen next?”
“Nothing,” Ellen said. “You’re supposed to drink your juice and eat your cookies.”
“Okay.” Anne Marie sampled a cookie, which crumbled in her mouth at the first bite. She washed it down with a gulp of juice that was far too sweet. Ellen waited until Anne Marie had finished before she returned to the refreshment table and poured a second cup of juice and took two small cookies for herself.
“Baxter wanted me to tell you hello,” Anne Marie said when she came back.
Ellen swallowed the cookie she was chewing and nodded. “He’s a good dog.”
“A little spoiled, though.”
“I’ll teach him how to roll over the next time you bring him to school,” Ellen promised. “I got a book from the library and I read about teaching dogs tricks. Baxter’s smart and I know how to get him to roll over.”
“I hope you can show me how to teach him, too.”
“I will,” Ellen said.
“I’ve tried to teach Baxter new tricks, but he doesn’t seem to understand the concept.” Anne Marie felt it only fair to warn Ellen; she didn’t want to discourage the girl, nor did she want her to think it would be an easy task.
One of the other mothers glanced speculatively at Anne Marie and Ellen and moved toward them. “Are you Ellen’s mom?” she asked Anne Marie.
“Actually, no, I’m her friend.”
“Anne Marie is my Lunch Buddy,” Ellen explained proudly. “She brought her dog for me to meet.”
“Oh.” The other woman drew a tiny long-haired girl close to her side. “I’m Shelly Lombard and this is my daughter, Cassie. She’s friends with Ellen.”
“Hi, Shelly, Cassie,” Anne Marie said, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I wanted to ask if Ellen could come over for a play date one afternoon. Would that be possible?”
This wasn’t something Anne Marie could answer. “You’ll have to ask her grandmother.”
“Ellen lives with her grandmother, then?”
Anne Marie nodded.
“Oh…well, I don’t know if that would work. I was actually hoping we could exchange play dates once in a while.”
“I see.”
“It’s just that occasionally I have an appointment after school and it’s difficult to find someone to look after Cassie for just an hour or two.”
“You could always ask her grandmother,” Anne Marie said a second time.
“Yes, of course, but if she couldn’t arrange to come for Ellen’s performance, it’s unlikely she’d be up to looking after an extra child.”
Shelly had a point. Anne Marie remembered Ellen’s saying that her grandmother slept a lot, which made her wonder if the woman was ill.
Shelly drifted away to chat with another parent. Anne Marie wanted to leave but she could tell that Ellen was desperate for her to stay. She searched for a topic of conversation.
“Would you like to show me your schoolwork?” Anne Marie asked. She remembered that during her brief orientation, this was an option suggested for Lunch Buddies.
“Okay.” Ellen sat in her small chair and opened her desk to retrieve a notebook. Everything inside was impeccably organized.
Ellen set the notebook on top and flipped it open for Anne Marie to examine. On nearly every page the teacher had written a comment praising Ellen’s work.
“You’re an excellent student,” Anne Marie said.
“Grandma Dolores makes me study every night.” Ellen didn’t seem happy about this.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” Ellen shrugged.
“Then you get to watch TV, right? That’s what you told me before.”
She bobbed her head. “We watch shows on the religion channel.”
“What about cartoons?”
“Grandma Dolores doesn’t think cartoons are good for kids. She saw South Park once and got upset. She hid my face in her apron and started praying to Jesus.”
Anne Marie bit her lip, trying not to smile.
A buzzer rang, announcing the end of the school day. In short order, children and parents began to vacate the classroom. Ellen looked up at Anne Marie. “I need to catch my bus.”
“Would you like me to walk outside with you?”
“Yes, please.”
While Ellen put on her coat and gathered her things, Anne Marie went to introduce herself to the teacher. Ms. Peterski smiled at Anne Marie. “I’m so pleased you could come.”
“I am, too,” she said and she meant it.
She and Ellen walked out to the schoolyard, negotiating their way through the laughing, shouting throngs.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at lunchtime,” Anne Marie said as they neared the area where the children lined up for their buses.
“You’re coming tomorrow, too?”
“It’s our lunch date, remember?”
Ellen blinked hard, apparently overwhelmed that Anne Marie would come to see her two days in a row.
“I can’t bring Baxter, though,” Anne Marie reminded her.
“That’s okay.” They approached the bus stop, and suddenly Ellen slipped her hand into Anne Marie’s.
It felt as if the warmth of that small hand reached all the way to her heart.
Chapter 11
Wednesday evening as Anne Marie prepared for bed, her phone rang. At the time she was brushing her teeth. Frowning, she turned off the tap and spit into the sink, then wiped her mouth before she went into the kitchen.
She couldn’t even guess who’d be phoning after eleven o’clock. Caller ID told her nothing. It said Private Caller, which meant it was probably one of the widows. If Elise, Lillie or Barbie was calling her this late, that meant trouble of some kind, although she couldn’t imagine what.
“Hello,” Anne Marie answered cautiously. Nighttime phone calls usually brought bad news, and she’d had enough of that.
“This is Anne Marie?” The voice, that of an older woman, was barely audible.
“Yes.”
“Anne Marie Roche?”
“Yes.”
“I need…help.” The woman, this stranger on the other end of the line, was close to panicking.
“Who is this, please?”
“Dolores. Dolores Falk.”
“Who?”
“Ellen’s grandmother.”
Anne Marie sucked in her breath as a dozen disturbing possibilities ran through her mind. “Is Ellen all right?” she asked, fighting down a sense of panic.
“Yes…no. It’s me who needs help… I wouldn’t call you if there was anyone else.” Each word seemed labored.
Anne Marie didn’t know what she could possibly do. “Do you want me to call someone?” she asked, wondering how she might assist the older woman. Surely she had a neighbor or a friend she could contact.
Anne Marie was a stranger.
“No, the aid car is on its way.” The woman’s breathing became harsh and irregular. “Just come…please. Hurry.”
Anne Marie didn’t understand. “Are you saying you want me to come to your house?”
“Please. Just…hurry.”
“But…” How did Ellen’s grandmother get her phone number? And what did she want? She was clearly in distress, but how could Anne Marie help?
“I don’t have anyone else to take Ellen,” Dolores gasped.
“Me? You want me to take Ellen? But I can’t—” It was out of the question. Anne Marie didn’t have room for a child.
“They’re going to bring me to the hospital. Please. I’ll refuse to let them unless you come.”
Talk about emotional blackmail! In just the few minutes Anne Marie had been on the phone with Ellen’s grandmother, she’d realized the older woman was badly in need of medical attention. As much as she resented this, Anne Marie didn’t have a choice. She’d have to go and then try to sort out the situation later.
“What’s the address?”
Dolores gave it to her with the added pressure of, “Hurry, please hurry.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Exasperated, she replaced the phone and exhaled sharply. How had she ended up in this predicament? She’d volunteered to be a Lunch Buddy, not a…she didn’t know what.
Pulling on jeans and a shirt, Anne Marie complained to Baxter, then promised to return as quickly as possible. With the address scribbled on a grocery-store receipt, she headed for her car. All she needed right now was to get attacked in the alley.
The alley was actually well lit, not that it would help her any if someone decided to leap out of the dark and mug her. Unlocking her car with shaking fingers, she climbed inside and started the engine.
Anne Marie considered herself the least capable person to deal with someone else’s problems. If she’d had the school counselor’s home number, she would’ve called Ms. Mayer and handed the whole mess over to her. Rescuing her Lunch Buddy in the middle of the night was not what she’d signed up for.
Dolores Falk’s house was only about four miles away, but the neighborhood, an older working-class area, was unfamiliar. By the time Anne Marie arrived, the aid car was parked out front. A fire truck was there, too, plus paramedics. Several neighbors stood on their porches watching all the activity.
Anne Marie parked across the street, well away from the emergency vehicles. Purposefully she trudged over to the house.
The instant Ellen saw her, she bolted down the porch steps, then raced across the yard and threw her arms around Anne Marie’s waist.
“What’s going on?” Anne Marie asked, placing her hands on the child’s shoulders.
“These men are taking Grandma to the hospital,” Ellen sobbed, clinging to Anne Marie.
“But they’re going to help her. Isn’t that what we want?” she asked softly.
“N-o-o! She-e-e mi-gh-t d-i-e,” the girl wailed.
“Let me talk to them,” she said and gently loosened the child’s arms. She walked Ellen back to the porch and left her sitting on the bottom step, still sobbing.
“Are you Anne Marie Roche?” an emergency medical technician asked as he stepped out of the house.
“Yes.”
“Good. The grandmother refused medical treatment until you got here.”
“Why me?”
“You’ll have to ask her that yourself.”
“Then let me talk to her.”
He shook his head. “I’d prefer if you did that at the hospital.”
“I only need a minute,” she insisted stubbornly.
“The grandmother told us you’d be taking the child,” the paramedic said as he started into the house.
“I’m her Lunch Buddy.” She wanted to explain that her entire role in this child’s life was to have lunch with her once a week. She’d met her exactly four times, if you included the brief orientation the previous month.
Lunch. That was supposed to be the full extent of her commitment.
No one had said anything about taking Ellen home with her. That was probably against the rules, anyway, and there seemed to be a lot of those.
“Isn’t there someone else?” she asked, following the EMT into the house.
“Apparently not.” He hurried to a bedroom in the back, Anne Marie directly behind him.
She discovered Dolores Falk on a stretcher. The woman’s complexion was sickly and gray, and every rasping breath seemed to cause her pain. Her hand rested on her heart, her eyes tightly shut. Ellen had said her grandmother was over fifty; in Anne Marie’s observation, she had to be in her mid-sixties but looked older.
“Wheel her out,” the EMT instructed the other two.
The woman’s eyes flew open. “Wait.”
“I’m here,” Anne Marie rushed to tell her.
Dolores reached out and grabbed Anne Marie’s hand in a grip that was shockingly strong. “Don’t let them put Ellen in a foster home. I’ll lose her if they do.”
“But, Mrs. Falk… Where do you want me to take her?”
The woman’s eyes closed again. “Home. Take her home with you.”
“With me? I can’t—”
“You have to…”
The EMT came in then and they rolled the stretcher down the hallway and out of the house. Anne Marie trailed behind, watching helplessly as the emergency crew loaded Ellen’s grandmother into the aid car and drove off, sirens screaming.
With her hands covering her face, Ellen sobbed as she huddled on the steps, her shoulders trembling. Her pitiful cries were drowned out by the screeching aid car.
Anne Marie crouched so they were at eye level. “Your grandmother’s going to see the doctors and they’re going to make her well again.” She prayed with all her heart that this was true.
Ellen nodded tearfully. “When will Grandma be back?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She was so far out of her element here that she was breaking into a cold sweat.
“Where will I go?” Ellen asked.
“For tonight,” Anne Marie said, mustering as much enthusiasm as she could, “you get to come home with me.”
Ellen dropped her hands long enough to look up at Anne Marie. “With you?”
“Yes, that’s why your grandmother called me.”
“Is Baxter there?”
Anne Marie nodded. She should’ve thought of that sooner. Ellen loved Baxter and he’d help take the child’s mind off what was happening to her grandmother.
“Baxter’s waiting for us to get back to my apartment so he can see you. Didn’t you say you wanted to teach him to roll over?”
“Yes-s-s.” For the first time since Anne Marie had arrived, the eight-year-old stopped weeping. She bit her lip and managed to control her sobs.
“We should pack a few things for you.”
“I have my backpack,” Ellen said, looking small and lost and terrified.
“Good idea. We’ll put what you need in there.” Taking the child by the hand, Anne Marie went into the house. It was an older single-story home, probably built soon after the Second World War. The floors were linoleum and the furniture shabby and dated. The hallway led to three bedrooms.
Ellen’s room was the farthest down the hall on the right-hand side.
It was furnished with a single bed, a dresser and a child-size desk and chair. The closet was narrow but more than big enough for Ellen’s few clothes.
“Just get what you’ll need for school tomorrow,” Anne Marie said. In the morning she’d drive Ellen to Woodrow Wilson Elementary, then she’d talk to Ms. Mayer and find out what could be done for the child.
“I brushed my teeth already,” Ellen said. Kneeling down on the braided rug next to her bed, she stuffed a pair of neatly ironed jeans and a pink sweater into her backpack.
“Don’t forget your shoes and socks,” Anne Marie told her. Ellen was wearing bedroom slippers and well-worn pajamas over which s
he’d pulled a sweatshirt. “Did you have any homework?”
Ellen nodded and hurried to the kitchen, returning with a small binder. “It’s math,” she explained as she added that to the pouch, along with her tennis shoes and a pair of socks.
“This is way past your bedtime,” Anne Marie said.
“Grandma said she wasn’t feeling well when I got home from school,” Ellen told her. “She said I could have cornflakes for dinner.”
“Did you?”
Ellen shook her head. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Most likely Ellen was too worried about her grandmother to have an appetite. “Who called for the aid car?”
“I did.”
“You?”
“Grandma didn’t look good and she didn’t answer me when I talked to her and I got scared.”
“That was a smart thing to do.” Anne Marie had to credit the child with fast thinking. “Do you know how your grandmother got my phone number?”
“No.” Ellen lowered her eyes. “But I’m glad she did.”
Now that she’d seen the situation for herself, Anne Marie was glad, too, and grateful she’d come when she had. She could only imagine how much greater the trauma of this evening would’ve been for Ellen if she’d been handed over to Child Protective Services and placed in temporary foster care.
“Are you ready?”
Ellen nodded solemnly and reached for Anne Marie’s hand. The child turned off all the lights on the way out. She stopped on the porch and took out the house key, hidden beneath a ceramic flowerpot, then locked the front door. When she’d finished, she replaced the key.
“Will I be able to visit Grandma in the hospital?” she asked, staring up at Anne Marie with huge eyes.
“I’ll find out for you in the morning, okay?”
“Please,” she whispered, and the plaintive little voice broke Anne Marie’s heart.
As they drove back to Blossom Street, Anne Marie suspected the girl would fall asleep on the silent ride there, but Ellen appeared wide-awake. When they got to the bookstore, Anne Marie pulled into the alley behind it.
“This is your house?” Ellen asked.
“I have a small apartment above the bookstore.”
“You live over a bookstore?” she whispered, as if Anne Marie resided in some enchanted castle.
Twenty Wishes Page 11
