The Foster Girls

by Lin Stepp

  Tad suggested, “Honey, you just need to jump him. Let him know how you feel.”

  But a part of Vivian didn’t want to take their relationship back to that old level. She didn’t really want to be backed up against walls and counters with Scott trying to push their relationship into a purely sexual encounter.

  “I want more,” she admitted to herself softly. “I’ve fallen in love with him, and I don’t want just an affair. Plus I couldn’t stand it if that was all I ended up with. It’s hard enough now, loving him and not having any idea how he feels about me.”

  She sighed and looked out the window from her desk in the upstairs sitting room. She’d been writing all morning, then editing, and now she was ready to call it quits for the day.

  A flit of yellow among the maple trees caught her attention. It didn’t fit into the normal landscape of the yard she was so used to viewing. She looked more carefully and saw it again.

  “Now what was that?” she asked herself. It looked like a fairy running in and out among the shrubbery, a fairy with yellow wings.

  Just then, the shape slipped out from behind the old snowball bush, and Vivian could see that it was a little child and not a fairy. A small girl in a fluffy yellow tutu with matching yellow fairy wings. She was pretending to fly, lifting her arms up and down, and flitting in and out among the shrubs and trees. Vivian smiled to herself.

  “Wonder who she is?”

  Well, it was certain she’d need to find out. There weren’t many families around here with children, and Vivian had met most of them already. This little girl didn’t look familiar at all. She might be lost. Maybe she was visiting over at the camp and had wandered away from her family.

  Vivian slipped her feet into her shoes below the desk and started down the stairs for the front door. When she got outside – with Fritzi happy to tag along beside her - she couldn’t see the child at first. Then she saw the edge of her behind some trees beyond the swing.

  Vivian went over to sit down on the swing and said calmly, “You know, Fritzi, I think I saw a little fairy behind that tree over there. I hope she’s a friendly fairy and that she’ll come out and talk to us.”

  A small head looked around the corner of the snowball bush. She had dark red hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose, and a sweet, impish grin. She looked to be about five or six years old, probably the same age as Chelsey. There was something oddly familiar about the child, but Vivian couldn’t place it.

  “Hi,” Vivian said. “What’s your name?”

  “Ophelia Odelia, queen of all the yellow flowers,” she announced in a regal voice.

  Vivian smiled. “And where does Ophelia live?”

  “Sometimes she makes herself small and lives inside a daffodil. She can do that, and she can fly, too.”

  “I see,” Vivian observed.

  The child came out from behind the bush and cocked her head to one side impishly.

  “Ophelia really likes to live inside an old tree trunk, the kind with a big hole in the front, but she hasn’t found one today.”

  “You know, I saw one of those on my hike up past Slippery Rock Falls a few weeks ago. It had a wonderful big hole in it, and, at the time, I thought that it would be a fine tree for fairies to live in.”

  The child came closer now, her blue eyes big with wonder. “Is that tree far from here?”

  The girl looked a little less like a fairy up close. There were shorts and a t-shirt under her fairy clothes and tennis shoes on her feet. But around her head was a garland of yellow artificial flowers with streamers down the back. Goodness, she was cute.

  Vivian smiled at her again. “Too far for you to go alone. But maybe if you tell me where Ophelia lives when she turns herself into a little girl, I might take that little girl there some day. Although it’s a long walk up the mountain.”

  She pointed up toward Buckeye Knob and watched the child’s eyes follow the direction of her hand.

  “I’m strong, and I can walk far,” she informed Vivian. “My mother and I used to go walking together a lot up in the big mountains there.” She pointed up toward the misty Smokies’ ranges in the distance.

  Her face fell dejectedly. “But then she died,” the child said very quietly, looking down at her feet and scuffing her shoe in the dirt.

  Vivian’s heart wrenched. “I’m sorry.” Vivian spoke the words softly and reached out to put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “My mommy died, too, when I was small. I remember how much it hurt to lose her.”

  “You’re nice.” The child moved a little closer toward Vivian and leaned up against her leg. “What’s your name?”

  “Do you mean my real name or my fairy name?”

  The little girl giggled. “Both, maybe.” She turned her head to grin at Vivian then. “Do you really have a fairy name?”

  “Of course. My favorite fairy name was always Princess Willowdeen Willowette. I remember Princess Willowdeen had a long silky green dress with silver trim and a real tiara with a jewel in the front. Her favorite home was under the low hidden branches of a weeping willow tree in my back yard. But when Willowdeen went home to her own bed at night her other real name was always Vivian Leah Delaney.” She looked at the child then. “What’s your other name, Ophelia?”

  “Sarah Louise Taylor.” She recited her name in a sing-song voice. “And right now I’m staying over at the Greene’s with Ellen, Quint, and Chelsey.”

  She hung her head and scuffed her shoe along the ground again. “I’m a foster child,” she said quietly. “And the Greenes are keeping me for a while until somebody might want me to live with them.”

  Vivian felt an old pain streak through her heart that she had almost forgotten. “I was a foster child, too, once long ago, Sarah Louise.”

  “Did you find a nice family?” Sarah lowered her voice. “Someone that wanted you?”

  “That I did.” Vivian smiled at Sarah. “A very nice man and lady who raised me just like their own little girl and who still love me a lot, even now that I’m grown up.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you miss your mother?”

  “Oh, yes,” Vivian assured her. “And I still do. My mother will have a very special space in my heart forever. You should never forget your mother either, and it is all right to miss her and even to cry sometimes. But a heart is big enough to be able to have love for other people in it. Yours will love again, too, after some of the sadness goes away.”

  “Maybe.” Sarah considered this idea while watching Vivian swaying back and forth in the old tree swing.

  “Will you swing me in your swing?” she asked, in the way of children who can handle only so much analytical talk before shifting their thoughts in another direction.

  “For a few minutes.” Vivian paused. “If you’ll let me walk you back over to Ellen’s house afterwards. She might be worried about you, Sarah. Did you tell her you were coming over here?”

  Sarah hung her head again. “No. Ophelia just got to flying and before we knew it we were over here. Did I come far?”

  “Not very far. But I’ll walk you back after we swing, just in case Ophelia can’t remember the way she flew.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said.

  A short time later, Vivian walked Sarah back over to the Greene’s place. She left Sarah at the house with Quint and Chelsey, and then went down to the barn to find Ellen. It was Thursday and one of Ellen’s regular soap-making days.

  “Lord, I thought that child was in the house with Chelsey and Quint all this time,” Ellen said, after Vivian told her why she’d come over. “Quint was home this morning, and he said he would watch both the girls while I did my soap. I don’t like the children out here playing when I’m doing soap. Because of the lye mix. It’s so caustic.”

  Vivian laughed. “Well, Quint had fallen asleep on the sofa with Chelsey after reading both of them to sleep over a pile of picture books.” She peered into the vat where Vivian’s soap mixture was bubbling. “But they’re up now, and Sarah is
playing with Chelsey outside in the front yard while Quint is trimming some shrubs. No harm was done, Ellen.”

  “Maybe, but we should have been watching her more closely than that. I promised Alice I would look after Sarah carefully for her.” Ellen stirred her mixture while she talked.

  “Vivian, hand me that bottle of peppermint oil,” she directed, pointing out a brown bottle sitting on a side shelf. “The soap is tracing now and it’s almost ready to pour out. See?” She demonstrated, pulling the stirrer out so Vivian could see the soap stringing down from it in long, sticky strands like hot pizza cheese.

  Ellen added the peppermint oil and some herbs and continued her stirring. “In a few minutes I can pour this batch out in those wooden molds over there and then I can sit down to take a break and talk with you.”

  Vivian leaned against the barn wall, watching Ellen work. “Quint said Sarah was a foster child.”

  “Yes. Alice Graham is a real good friend of Quint’s, and mine, and a social worker with the Wayside Agency. She needed a temporary place for Sarah until she could find her a permanent foster home. Every now and then we help Alice out when she gets in a bind about a child.”

  “Tell me about Sarah. She seems like a nice little child.”

  “Oh, she’s a delight. And Chelsey’s enjoying having her. Sarah’s mother died a few months ago. I actually knew her. She had a little shop at the west end of Gatlinburg, sold wind chimes and whimsical items and bought some of my soaps, too, for the store. She was a charming woman. Died of an aneurism or something. Real sudden and unexpected, Quint said. There wasn’t any family to step in.”

  Ellen stopped stirring and began to dip out the soap mixture, pouring it into the wooden molds.

  “Gosh, that smells wonderful,” Vivian sniffed appreciatively as the odor of the soap mixture permeated the air.

  “Yeah, I always like making peppermint soap. It smells so good.” Ellen grinned. “It makes me want homemade peppermint ice cream every time I make it, so Quint and I are making some up for our Thursday night dinner. This will get you in the mood.”

  “Ummmm. What a great idea. I haven’t had homemade ice cream in years.”

  The Greene’s Thursday night gatherings had become a weekly ritual for Ellen, Quint, Scott, and Vivian. They were always fun.

  “What about Sarah’s father?” Vivian asked, returning to their former conversation again.

  “He’s not in the picture.” Ellen found a new set of molds and started to dip out soap again. “Alice told us Sarah’s mother Eleanor never married him or even told him about Sarah at all. It’s always been just the two of them – Eleanor and Sarah. Alice said Eleanor never even recorded the father’s name on the birth records. So he can’t be tracked down.”

  “Aren’t there any other family members to step in?”

  “Evidently not,” Ellen confided. “After Eleanor died, Sarah stayed with an older couple who own a shop near Eleanor’s, but they had to take off to help one of their grown children who had a new baby coming in. And they can’t take Sarah permanently. So Quint and I said we’d fill in for a little while - especially because we knew Eleanor and because we’d met Sarah. She’s a really bright and good child. I’m sure Alice can find her a nice family.”

  “Most people want babies and not children Sarah’s age.” Vivian frowned.

  “Sarah’s only just turned five,” Ellen responded. “She’s still young. She hasn’t even started school yet. But she can already read and do numbers. In fact, she’s teaching Chelsey and getting her more psyched up for kindergarten this fall, which is a good thing. Sarah also has this huge imagination and loves to play pretend games.”

  “Like fairies?” Vivian smiled. “She was dressed up like a fairy when I found her over at the farmhouse.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s her favorite, playing fairies of some sort and creating all sorts of stories about them. We had to go out and buy fairy wings for Chelsey after Sarah arrived with hers. You know, I remember Eleanor used to sell fairy wings, garlands, wands, and all sorts of fairy figurines and chimes at that store of hers. I guess that’s what kicked Sarah off on the fairy jag.”

  Ellen paused to ladle out the last of the soap mixture into the molds. “Actually, it has been really good for Chelsey having Sarah here.” She pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “It has given Chelsey someone to play with. All the other children around here are really too old for her. I sort of hope Sarah will get to stay for at least part of the summer with us. But Alice is hoping to get her settled with a new family before fall so she won’t have to change schools.”

  Finished with pouring the soap now, Ellen wiped off her hands and gestured to Vivian to follow her out to a couple of lawn chairs by the barn door. Both were set up in a shady spot out of the sun.

  “Want a cola?” Ellen asked Vivian. “I keep some in the cooler out here.”

  She pulled two out and then plopped down in one of the chairs with a sigh.

  “Don’t worry too much about Sarah.” Ellen leaned over to tie a loose shoe string. “Alice is wonderful in finding just the right families for her kids.”

  She smiled. “You know, she’d probably have taken Sarah herself for a while. Alice does that sometimes. Except that she’s fostering six children right now that just lost their parents in an accident. It’s really hard to place six kids in one family, Alice says, and she doesn’t want to break the family up. So she’s helping out with them right now. She has her hands full.”

  “She sounds remarkable.” Vivian was impressed.

  “Oh, Alice is great, real smart and a dynamo of energy.” Ellen took a long drink of her cola. “You’d never know it to look at her though. She’s one of those petite, pretty, fragile little blonds. Looks like the type you’d want to shelter and protect.”

  Ellen laughed. “But no one had better try that with Alice. She’ll put them in their place real quick.” She smiled at Vivian. “I’ll introduce you to Alice when she comes over the next time. You’ll like her.”

  “I like her already for what she’s doing for Sarah and those other kids,” Vivian said. “You know, I was a foster child myself for a time - just after my mother died when I was nine. I know how much it means to have someone that cares helping you find a new home when yours is lost. It’s a devastating time for a child.”

  “I’d forgotten that you had that experience.” Ellen propped her feet up on a stump.

  Vivian told Ellen briefly about moving around in a few foster homes before she found her way to the Mero’s home. However, Vivian decided against telling Ellen about the experience with Joe at the Patterson’s. There didn’t seem to be any point in it. She just told Ellen she hated it there and that she had run away once.

  After their visit, Vivian went back to the farmhouse. There she made potato salad and cookies - her contributions toward the Thursday night dinner. The four of them always chipped in together now to come up with their weekly meals. The men usually grilled some type of meat outdoors, if the weather permitted, or they bought a ham or barbeque. Ellen and Vivian took care of vegetables and desserts.

  Tonight, Quint and Scott were grilling hamburgers. Scott was bringing the meat and helping with the sides. Ellen was making baked beans, and Quint was making the homemade peppermint ice cream, a specialty of his. Also, they were eating outside on the patio tonight, since the days were getting longer.

  As Vivian worked preparing the potato salad for dinner, her mind kept returning to thoughts of Sarah Taylor. She knew so well the sorrow in the little child’s heart right now and about the brave front she put up for everyone.

  “I’m going to be a special friend to her,” she promised herself. “I know what it’s like to be alone as a child.”

  In fact, Vivian decided to go on over to the Greene’s early so that she could entertain the girls while Ellen got ready for their dinner. She called and left Scott a message just to meet her there.

  Chapter 19

  As May settled in, Scott�
��s days at the camp grew longer and busier. Returning from town, Scott stopped by the camp mailbox and rolled his eyes at the huge stack of mail he found. Applications still swamped Buckeye’s mailbox everyday, despite the fact that most of the camp sessions were already full.

  “Morning, Nancy.” Scott dropped the fistful of envelopes on Nancy’s desk as he walked into the camp office.

  Nancy groaned as she added them to the towering stack of mail in her in-box. “I think this is the most applications we’ve ever received for the camp, Scott.”

  “Better too many than not enough.” Scott grinned at her, dropping down into the chair across from her desk.

  Nancy pushed a neat stack of papers his way in reply. “Here are the last of the signed contracts from the camp counselors for you to look over. On the top is that agenda you wanted me to type up for the counselor-training week the first of June. Check that over, too, and if it’s all right I’ll start running copies for the training staff and counselors.” She paused. “And don’t you dare take off again before you look over that list of camp supplies that has been ordered so far. It’s on your desk in your office.”

  Scott glanced over the training schedule Nancy had typed, drumming his fingers on the table and whistling under his breath.

  Nancy put a hand on her hip. “Honestly, Scott Jamison. You’re not stressed at all, are you? Look at you, relaxed and whistling. You’re just in your element now that camp is ready to gear up.”

  “That I am.” He reached over to tweak her cheek. “I’m a man who loves his job.”