Their walk home held that rich, comfortable silence that fell only when everything important had been said. But even before they reached the residents’ wings, the heavy thump of bass could be heard from the lit windows of the main house. They stopped and grinned at each other as they recognized the Beatles’ White Album.
“Thank God, Cleo has commandeered the stereo for a while.” Abby chuckled. “I was afraid we were in for an all-Fergie night.”
“We still could be.” Mac scratched Abby’s back lightly. “Maybe Danny’s being generous right now, but it’s her party, she can call the tunes until dawn.” She looked back over her shoulder, and felt an unexpected, sweet wistfulness at the emptiness of the trail.
“Did you hear something?”
“Nope.” Mac pressed Abby’s shoulders gently. “Not a thing. Let’s go party.”
*
Cleo glanced at Mac and Abby as they stepped down into the living room, and then threw a dark glare at Danny. “Danielle, I told you that music was too loud and you’re disturbing the residents. You turn it down right now.”
Danny just snickered, since Cleo was the one standing by the CD player and was doubtless the one who had jacked “Mother Nature’s Son” too high in the first place. “You guys took long enough,” she said to Mac. “We ran out of cider already. Scratch is in the kitchen brewing more.”
“In the meantime, I’ve discovered some wonderful tea.” Abby touched Mac’s face and then started toward the kitchen. “You’ll have to try it, Danny, it’s sort of the Beatles of teas.”
“Cool beans.” Danny was seated on the floor next to the rocking chair where Vivian held reign, both of them flipping through the stack of DVDs on her lap. Mac was relieved to see some natural color in the girl’s face again. The mood cast by this slumber party was already warm and friendly, and there were no shadows in her eyes for the first time in weeks.
Cleo had graduated to a neon-blue walking cast, and was working her way stolidly over to the deep couch. She sank into it next to Mac with a sigh, her one furry bear slipper extended in front of her. “How was your first sojourn into the outside world, Counselor?”
“A real nice walk.” Mac smiled down at Cleo’s cast and tapped it. “That’s a work of art, you know. We should cut off your leg and frame it on the wall.”
Cheated of a plaster canvas, Danny had made do with white acrylic paint on the plastic shell of Cleo’s walking cast, which was covered entirely with intricate swirls, patterns and symbols. Cleo lifted the thick boot onto a small footstool with a satisfied grunt. “I already promised Danny she could cut off my leg for the portfolio she’s sending to the art department at UMW in town. I figure if she includes decorated body parts from all of us, she’s in for that scholarship.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears, Cleo.” Vivian rocked gently, peering down at a DVD cover. “You do have a true artistic talent, Danielle. That school would be insane not to jump on you.”
“I don’t even know where I’ll be living next fall.” A crease appeared in Danny’s forehead. “Or how I’d get to the campus, if I get the scholarship, from wherever I’ll be.”
“Let’s take one pressing issue at a time.” Cleo looked at Mac and closed one eye slowly.
“Is it out there?” Mac whispered.
Cleo nodded, with a smug smile.
The solution to Danny’s transportation problems was parked on the circular drive out front, concealed by the darkness. Not a Ferrari, quite a far cry from it, but it was adorable, a blue Volkswagen Beetle hatchback, of used vintage but classy trim. And its engine ran like a fine watch, Scratch had seen to that. A gift from them all. It awaited Danny’s discovery the next morning, its small windshield bedecked with a huge festive bow.
“Our victuals, women.” Abby backed out of the kitchen, carrying a platter laden with bowls of popcorn and pretzels. Scratch followed, bearing a lighter tray of steaming tea and fragrant cider.
“Hot doggy.” Danny went up on her knees and accepted a brimming bowl of popcorn from Abby. Mac grinned, wondering if Danny and Cleo knew they were starting to share each other’s catch phrases. The simple happiness on Danny’s face went straight to Mac’s heart. Not many high school seniors would consider a non-alcoholic slumber party with older adults the height of celebration, but time with the people who loved her was what Danny needed and wanted most. Family time.
“Thank you, dear heart.” Vivian took a cup from Scratch and tilted her face so he could kiss her cheek. “Danny here was just expressing curiosity about her living arrangements next fall.”
“Ah, I’m pleased to be back in time for this discussion.” Scratch settled into the stuffed recliner next to the sofa, and laid his large hand on Mac’s knee. He arched one grayed eyebrow at her inquiringly, and Mac nodded assurance she was feeling fine. Scratch patted her knee and sat back. Mac loved these nonverbal conversations that served as affectionate shorthand between people who knew each other well. She was growing fluent with everyone in this room. Abby sank into the sofa between her and Cleo, and Mac took her hand as naturally as drawing her next breath.
“Next fall nothing, I don’t know where I’ll be living next week.” Danny’s smile was fading again. “You guys have that new staff person coming tomorrow, right? She’s going to need my room. Maybe I can stay with my friend Lucy for a while.”
“Whelp, let’s look at some possibilities.” Cleo brushed her palms together, watching Danny. “Dan, you know UMW has dormitories. We could still shoot for a dorm room next fall, if you’re accepted.”
“If I’m accepted,” Danny repeated listlessly.
“Right. And even if you’re not, you’ll still have a home at Fireside.”
“I will?”
“You will,” Vivian nodded. “For up to two years, if need be. You’re a solid member of Fireside’s team now, Danny, and you’re also one of her clients. Now that you’re eighteen, you can live in one of the single units in the east wing, if you wish.”
“You’re kidding.” Danny’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief. “But I can’t pay any rent.”
“You’re already earning part of it,” Abby reminded her. “With some excellent housecleaning services. And it wouldn’t surprise me if our new child advocate could use a hand with babysitting, occasionally. Rent is workable, honey.”
“And so is the possibility of the dorms.” Cleo shrugged casually, Mac observed, just as if they all weren’t rock-solid against Danny moving into town. “That scholarship covers living expenses, so that would be your call. Living on campus would just be a tougher row to hoe, and starting college is tough enough. I’d like you here with us, this first year at least, so we can look after each other.”
Danny smiled into her lap, and when she lifted her head her eyes were shining. “Thanks. A lot, really. Let me think about it for a while.”
“A wise decision.” Mac pressed Abby’s hand. “Important choices should be allowed some pondering time.” She smiled at Vivian.
“So, Cleo.” Mac threw Cleo a challenging look. “I believe you have an early birthday present you wanted to bestow upon young Danielle. Isn’t that true?”
Cleo scowled. “Oh, it ain’t early. Danny doesn’t turn eighteen until midnight.” She rummaged in the pocket of her baggy jeans and pulled out a small gift-wrapped box. She shook it at Danny, then tossed it to her. “You don’t get to use these for another four hours, so don’t get all righteous on me before then.”
“Okay.” Danny peeled back the silver wrapping. She slid out a box of nicotine patches, and stared at Cleo. “Get out of here. You’re kidding.”
“You need to slap a handful of those directly in my mouth whenever you see me. But not until midnight. I can sneak in the rest of my last pack before then.” Cleo lifted her finger. “And I warn you all, stay the hell out of my face for the next three weeks. There’s gonna be carnage, blood on the walls—”
“Cleo.” Danny scrambled to her knees and threw her arms around her. “You are so bo
mb-dot-com. Thank you, Cleo.”
Mac read more than congratulations in the tightness of Danny’s hold around Cleo’s thick waist. There was deep relief as well.
“It’s a great present for everyone who loves you, Cleo.” Abby started to pat her arm, but Cleo slapped her hand away.
“Yeah, we’ll see if you feel that way tomorrow morning, Brit-twit, after I chew your leg off at breakfast.”
“Speaking of nice gifts, Danny.” Scratch leaned out of his recliner. “I’m wondering if you’d like to share that drawing you were working on earlier today.”
“Eh, Scratch.” Danny made a face. “That drawing’s so da—it’s so mushy. I was in that kind of mood, this morning.” She sighed. “Oh, all right, I guess I’m in that kind of mood again now.”
Danny got to her feet with the kind of fluid ease Mac doubted her thirty-year-old back would ever allow again, and wove between the furniture to the breakfast nook. She opened one of the side drawers and took out her drawing tablet, then brought it back to the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Remember, I warned you about the mushiness.”
And she had, but Mac was still unprepared for the emotional wallop of Danny’s latest sketch.
It was Fireside, from the front yard of the main house. Faint traces of the residents’ wings extended off on either side in the background. Their home was rendered with strong, clear lines, accurate to the last column, shingle and chimney, but Mac’s gaze was drawn at once to the people standing in the yard.
One was a toddler, taking what might be his very first steps. Wide-eyed, small hands spread, the child was tottering over the lawn, toward the lower left side of the drawing. Five adult figures stood in a close group behind him, watching him go, each face instantly recognizable.
Danny herself, slightly older than the Danny watching their reactions now, standing beside a young man with unfinished features, who was pointing at the stumbling child with a broad smile. Cleo, also slightly older, crouched beside Danny, her eyes wise and warm and proud as she watched the boy. Vivian and Scratch stood arm and arm next to Cleo, Scratch sporting his devil hat, both of them laughing in delight.
“Oh, Danny.” Vivian’s admiration was evident in her voice. “This is you, bringing your family to visit Fireside in some future spring, isn’t it? Look, our cherry trees are blooming.” Her tapered nails hovered over the other side of the drawing. “And here are Mac and Abby. I knew who they were immediately, but the way you’ve drawn them, they must be what, seventy years old?”
“Yeah, somewhere in there,” Danny replied.
Their faces were wrinkled, their hair thinner, their bodies visibly frail. Abby and Mac sat comfortably together on the rocking swing on the front porch, their gnarled hands entwined, looking at each other with a shining warmth Mac had seen before. This was how Danny had drawn the love Cleo and her mother had shared, in her birthday present for Lily Sherrill. Abby covered her hand with her own.
“I can see you guys together, when you’re this age.” Danny nudged Abby with her shoulder. “I can picture it in my head, the two of you growing old with each other.” She smiled at Mac, a simple affirmation of faith, and Mac kissed Danny’s forehead soundly.
“Oh, baby.” Cleo’s voice was suspiciously thick. “This one’s going up in my room.”
“Oh, I’m afraid not, Ms. Lassiter.” Vivian snapped open her purse and drew out a tissue. “This one’s being framed over the hearth.”
“I’d like to make the frame, Danny, if that’s all right.” Scratch beamed down at the drawing. “This is fine work.”
“Sure. That would be great.” Danny’s face was a little flushed with pleasure. “Hey, let’s build a fire now!”
“Tonight?” Vivian peered at Danny over her oval glasses. “Danielle, it’s the last week in May.”
“Yeah, but it’s the last night of my youth.” Danny looked at Vivian plaintively. “Come on, Vivian, I’ll probably be scarred for life if you don’t let us have a fire.”
“Way to go, Viv, crushing this child’s dreams.” Cleo struggled out of the deep sofa, and Danny clasped her hands and pulled her gamely to her feet, minding her cast. “Come on, Scratch, shift your bones and help us stack the grate with the last of the wood.”
“With pleasure.”
“I concede gracefully.” Vivian lifted herself from the rocking chair. “Mac, you’re still working on your cider. Abby, can I get you more of that nice tea?”
“Yes,” Abby said quietly. But her gaze was on Mac’s face, and it stayed there as Vivian went to the kitchen.
Mac heard something in Abby’s voice. They both looked down at Danny’s drawing, at the elderly women sitting together with lovingly clasped hands.
“My answer is yes,” Abby repeated.
Mac smiled. She bent her head and kissed her, and that familiar sensation of coming home filled her again, light and certain.
“I love you,” Abby whispered.
“I love you back.”
And then, of course, there was a knock at the front door.
“Damn, is it really that loud?” Cleo looked guilty as she pivoted away from the fireplace and limped toward the CD player. “Busted.”
“Probably just someone locked out of their unit.” Mac made herself get out of the couch, wincing at the ache in her side but grinning when she felt Abby’s proprietary pat on her butt. She cupped Abby’s chin. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
“See if they have marshmallows,” Danny called from the fireplace as Mac headed for the entry.
“Also chocolate bars,” Cleo added. “We want s’mores.”
“Perfect,” Mac agreed. An evening that began with fireflies, continued with toasted marshmallows, and would end with dawn rising on a living room filled with sleeping family suited her just fine.
She strolled to the front door, unbolted it, and pulled it open.
A young woman with sandy hair lowered her balled fist quickly and took a step back. She looked a bit travel-worn. She blinked up at Mac, and folded her arms.
“Is this Fireside?”
“It is. My name is Mac.”
“The police officer said I could come here.”
“Yes, you can.” Mac smiled. She stepped back from the door. “Come on in, and meet my friends. I believe they’re building a fire.”
About the Author
Cate Culpepper is a 2005 and 2007 Golden Crown Literary Award winner in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy category, and a 2008 recipient of the Alice B. Readers’ Choice Award. She is the author of the Tristaine series, which includes Tristaine: The Clinic, Battle for Tristaine, Tristaine Rises, and Queens of Tristaine. Cate lives in Seattle, where she supervises a transitional living program for homeless young gay adults. She’s currently working on a paranormal suspense novel set in the desert Southwest.
Fireside Page 20
