Bittersweet Summer (9 page)

M
OM WAS IN MY
dreams all night. First she sang. Then she held me close, and I saw tears come into her eyes. In my last dream, she held out a piece of pizza. “No mushrooms,” she said.

When I woke up, I looked at her poster. She was probably on her way to Spokane right now. Maybe she was looking out the RV window and thinking about August and how we would be together.

She was probably thinking about the next concert. She was probably practicing the cardplaying song.

In the kitchen, I poured myself some Cheerios and sat down at the table with Dad. “There’s one good thing today. Ms. Morgan’s barbecue.”

“Right,” Dad said.

I sat up straight, remembering. “Did you hear about her boyfriend? That’s why she’s having the barbecue.”

“I heard that,” he said, cranking his head around to loosen his neck.

“Claire’s really sad that Ms. Morgan can’t be her new mother.”

He was quiet. “Today is the day,” he finally said, “when SolaCom said they would call me back about a possible job.”

Solacom. It didn’t even sound nice.

He sipped his coffee and set the mug down. “If they want me, I’ll tell them I’ll think about it. I have to talk with Mr. Flagstaff first.”

I sighed and pushed my spoon through my cereal.

“He’ll be back on Tuesday,” Dad said.

“Tuesday is years from now.” I took a big mouthful of cereal and chewed it. Swallowed. “Maybe we can get Lucy today.”

“That man said he’d call. They have to make sure she’s healthy.”

I stared into my bowl of cereal, and all the little circles blurred together. “She’s worried. She’s wondering why we haven’t come to get her. She doesn’t have any family right now.”

Tyler dragged into the family room with his blanket around him. He curled into a chair at the table. Dad brought him a bowl of cereal.

Tyler picked up his spoon and right away dropped it on the floor. “My spoon,” he wailed. His eyes filled with tears.

“Uh-oh,” Dad said, getting him another spoon. “This is going to be a long day. For more than one reason.”

I thunked my own spoon on the table. “Nothing is ever settled,” I said. “I want Sierra to come back so we can do stuff before we move away. This summer vacation is the dumbest one I’ve ever had.”

Dad nodded at me. “It’s hard on all of us.”

“We could settle one thing,” I said. “We could decide about getting Lucy right now.”

Dad got up and went to the kitchen to pour more coffee. He didn’t answer.

I watched Tyler loading his new spoon with Cheerios. He put one more on the top of the heap and opened his mouth. I looked away.

When the phone rang, Dad handed it to me.

“I cried all night,” Claire said, “because Ms. Morgan has a boyfriend. She’ll never be my mother.”

Or mine, I thought. But then, as usual, I thought of Mom. But today I knew for sure that Mom was never coming back. “Things are awful here, too,” I told her. “Everything was simpler when we were in fourth grade.”

I could tell she was nodding at the other end of the phone. “Anyway,” she said, “I’m writing songs for your mom to sing.”

“For Mom?”

“I’ll need you to send them to her, okay? She’s going to love them. She’ll probably pay me.”

I slid down to the floor and rested my head on my hand.

“I’ll sing you one right now,” Claire said. She began to sing and right away stopped. “I’ve lost the note,” she said. “I have to go find it on the piano.” She hung up.

In the utility room, Dad was flattening cardboard boxes.

“We can use some of these for moving,” he said.

“Wait!” I yelled as he reached for the next box. “Stop! I need that one!”

“I’m making space in here,” he said. “This box is too big for anything anyway.”

“I want it,” I said. Tears flew into my eyes. “Please, Dad?”

He looked at me. “Why?” he asked, pushing it toward me.

I stepped into it and curled myself into a ball. “It’s perfect.” I stuck my head up to look out at him. “When Lucy comes. . .”

He shook his head at me.

“If. If Lucy comes, this will be her bed. If we move, she won’t be a bit worried because her bed will go everywhere we go.”

He heaved a big sigh.

“Please, Dad?”

He shook his head again. “You can play with the box. I won’t flatten it yet.”

“Now,” I told him, “all she needs is a really nice blanket. Some toys. A pretty dish for water...”

“Y
OU FOUND THE RIGHT
place,” someone called, and there was Ms. Morgan, coming down from her front porch to meet us. “Welcome,” she said, and her green eyes sparkled at us. She scooped Tyler up for a hug. “You were so brave on that big stage!”

“Mommy says I’m in her band now,” he said, “but I don’t think so.”

“How is everyone doing?” she asked Dad.

“Okay, I think,” he said. “Tyler took a good nap this afternoon.”

He didn’t mention that Tyler napped on his blanket in Lucy’s cardboard box. We were going to have a big problem, Tyler and I, deciding which room Lucy would sleep in. If we got her. Ms. Morgan let Tyler slide down and held his hand as we walked up the steps. “Did you get your phone call?”

Dad shook his head. “They’ll probably call on Monday.”

“I’m interested,” she said. “Let me know what happens.”

I had forgotten all about Dad expecting the solar company to call. He didn’t look upset. He was sure better at waiting than me.

“The backyard is a mess,” Ms. Morgan said, leading us into her house. “My backpacking tent came. I’m trying to set it up. I didn’t know it would have so many pieces.”

Ms. Morgan’s house smelled like apple pie. We walked through her living room that had books piled everywhere.

The backyard had red flowers along the fence. Yummy chicken smells came from the barbecue. At the other end of the yard, I saw tent poles and bags and a little orange tent with a sagging top.

I looked around for her boyfriend. No one else was here.

“Good idea to set up a new tent before you go,” Dad said. “Sometimes, they leave out an important part.”

“Can I go in?” Tyler peeked inside the tent. “Take off your shoes.” Ms. Morgan unzipped the door for him.

Tyler crawled inside and rolled onto his back. He smiled up at us. “I like it,” he said.

“No rain in the forecast,” Dad said

Ms. Morgan gasped. “I forgot about rain. Should I take a rain parka, too?” She waved her hand at the picnic table. “See this stuff? All of it is supposed to go into my backpack.”

I looked at the clothes and cooking pots and a sleeping bag and a pad. “It’s never going to fit.”

She made a face. “I’ve got to take less.” She grabbed a long fork off the table. “I’m not taking this in my backpack. It’s for turning the chicken.” We followed her to the grill.

“May I do it?” Dad asked, holding his hand out for the fork. “Where are you going to backpack?” he asked as he turned the chicken pieces.

“Mt. Jefferson Park,” Ms. Morgan said.

“A beautiful trail,” Dad said. A minute later, they had put the cover back on the grill and were bent over forest maps, discussing the trails.

In the tent, Tyler was singing a song about spruced-up trees. Ms. Morgan and Dad weren’t paying any attention to me, but it didn’t matter. I leaned back against the table and listened. This party felt cozy. If only Sierra were here, it would be perfect.

Nobody else heard the knocking on the front door.

W
HEN I WENT INSIDE
Ms. Morgan’s house, Claire and Mr. Plummer stood on the front porch. “Please come in,” I said, pretending I was Ms. Morgan.

Mr. Plummer moved some books on the coffee table so he could set down a vase of roses. “The Peace rose is in full bloom right now,” he said. “I can bring some to your family, too, Katie.”

“Thanks.” I breathed in the heavenly rose smell.

When I straightened up, I saw Ms. Morgan’s mantel. There, in the exact center, was the bluebird plate I had made. That bird looked right at home.

Claire pulled me away from the mantel. “Did you see him?” she asked.

“Him?”

“Her boyfriend.” She frowned at me. “I already hate him.”

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

They followed me through the house and out the back door. Soon we were all trying to make the tent stand up better.

Sometime later, I heard another knock on the door. Ms. Morgan was turning the chicken again, and the fathers were discussing tent stakes, so I went to the front door. This time it would be the boyfriend.

But no!

It was Mrs. Ramirez, the one who owned the bride shop, and Alex was with her. I stared at Mrs. Ramirez. She was surely here to help Ms. Morgan plan her wedding to the boyfriend. They would be choosing dresses and stuff. They were going to ruin the barbecue.

“We live next door,” Mrs. Ramirez said. “I think you and Alejandro know each other.”

I stared at her a moment before I realized what she had said. They had also been invited to the barbecue. They were neighbors. That explained why Ms. Morgan and Alex biked to the library together.

Mrs. Ramirez had wound her long black hair into a fancy knot at the back of her head, and a soft blue scarf floated across her shoulders. “We brought tamales,” she said. “I’ll leave them here on the kitchen counter.”

Alex had on his favorite shirt. “Hi, Katie.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. He had to lift up the shirt flaps to do it.

“They’re in the backyard,” I said. “Ms. Morgan has a new tent.”

“Cool.” Alex followed his mother and me out the back door. Claire was sitting at the picnic table. When she saw Alex, she rolled her eyes. Then, she saw Alex’s mother’s blue scarf and her eyes lit up.

“I’m Claire Plummer,” she said, and held out her hand to Mrs. Ramirez.

Mrs. Ramirez looked amazed. “I didn’t know young people were brought up this way anymore,” she said.

Dad grinned at me as he introduced himself. “See?” he said. “Manners are important.” He winked at me and went back to the tent.

“I’m Tina Ramirez,” Alex’s mother said to Mr. Plummer. “Janna tells me we have much in common.”

“Tina Ramirez,” Mr. Plummer said. “Yes, we do. I’m an interior decorator. I’ve wondered many times who designs the windows of your store. They are very nicely done.”

“I do it,” Mrs. Ramirez said as she and Mr. Plummer settled on the picnic bench next to Claire. They began to talk about wedding fashions. “Come on, Alex,” I said. “Let’s look at the tent.”

Tyler came running. “My library friend!” he yelled. “Did you bring your bridge book?”

“I can go next door and get it,” Alex said. “First, I want to see the tent.”

“Please take your shoes off before you go in,” Ms. Morgan reminded us. “One person at a time.”

Alex and Tyler and I took turns going in and out and lying flat on the floor of the tent, looking up through the mesh ceiling at the trees and the sky. We loved that tent.

“Now that everyone’s here, I need to call Eric.” Ms. Morgan looked at the back door and smiled. “There you are! I thought you were going to sleep forever.”

A
TALL, DARK-HAIRED MAN
came into the backyard.

“This is Eric,” Ms. Morgan said, putting her arm around the man’s waist.

He held his hand out for Dad to shake. “I’ve heard all about this family,” he said with a grin.

“The famous Katie,” he said, “and the famous Tyler.” As he turned to me, I saw his green eyes were just like Ms. Morgan’s eyes.

All at once, I knew exactly who he was.

“Eric is my little brother,” Ms. Morgan said. “He got in late last night from Seattle, so I let him take a nap. We’re going backpacking together.”

“Good to meet you,” Dad said, shaking Eric’s hand.

Claire looked up. “Brother?”

At that moment, Mrs. Ramirez’s scarf slid off her shoulders. Claire jumped up. “Let me fix it for you,” she said.

“Thank you. You have a sweet daughter,” Mrs. Ramirez said, smiling at Mr. Plummer. She turned to Claire. “This would look nice on you.” She tied the scarf around Claire’s shoulders.

“I knew the three of you would hit it off,” Ms. Morgan said to Claire. “The chicken is done,” she said as she stuffed things quickly into her backpack. “We need this table for eating.”

In the kitchen, we walked along the counters and spooned our plates full of tamales and baked beans and fruit salad. Then we went out to the grill where Eric served us the chicken.

“I had so much fun getting ready for this picnic,” Ms. Morgan said as she sat down at the table. She looked all around the group. “This is my first big party here in Hartsdale. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Five years between us,” Eric was saying to Dad.

“The same as Katie and Tyler,” Dad said.

“What’s the same?” I asked.

“Age difference,” Dad said. “Ms. Morgan is five years older than Eric.”

I swallowed a bite of chicken and looked back and forth at the two of them. I had never thought that some day Tyler would get as tall as me. That he would grow up to be a man!

“We’ll have to talk,” Ms. Morgan said, winking at me, “about what it’s like, having a little brother in the family.”

“Don’t tell every story,” Eric begged. “Only tell her the good things.”

“There are lots of good things,” Ms. Morgan said, “but they’re not as interesting as the bad things.” She patted her brother’s arm.

Across the table, Tyler smacked his lips and I saw a blob of macaroni and cheese fall down the front of his shirt. I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine him growing up.

Tyler cleared his throat. “We might get a dog,” he said to everyone.

“We had one while I was growing up,” Ms. Morgan said. “I shared my dog biscuits with him.” She laughed. “I was sure they were my biscuits. Not the dog’s.”

“Those were my biscuits,” Eric said, spreading butter on a hard roll. He winked at me and pushed the butter plate toward Dad.

“The dog I had was a mutt,” Dad said. “We answered an ad in the classifieds.”