Last One Home (3 page)

“Not at all,” Mrs. Belcher assured her. “I’m just grateful to get an appointment. You’re always so busy, and Cassie, my dear, just look at how long my hair is. I’m desperate. I can’t do a thing with it. My husband told me this morning that I resemble a shaggy dog, and he’s right.”

Cassie met the other woman’s eyes in the mirror and smiled. “I’ll take care of that in short order. Now let me take you to the shampoo station.”

It wasn’t until five o’clock that Cassie had the chance to retrieve her sister’s letter. She stared at the envelope several moments before she had the courage to tear it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper. Rosie watched as Cassie read the letter. It didn’t take her long.

“Well?” Rosie asked. The receptionist was the salon owner’s cousin and not the least bit shy about asking awkward questions.

“This is the first time Karen has reached out to me since my divorce,” Cassie said, unable to tear her gaze from the letter.

“Do you think your sister wants to mend fences?” Rosie asked, lowering her eyes toward the printed page as if hoping to read a few lines herself.

“I don’t know.” Cassie wasn’t getting her hopes up.

Rosie’s dark, expressive eyes widened. “Are you mad at her?”

“I was never angry with her,” Cassie explained. Once Cassie had left the women’s shelter, her first thought had been to go home. She’d contacted her family, needing financial help. Grief-stricken, dealing with the aftermath of her husband’s sudden death, Sandra Judson, Cassie’s mother, had asked Karen and Nichole to answer Cassie’s plea.

According to Karen, who spoke for both her and Nichole, neither sister was financially able to help. Karen’s husband had gone through a period of unemployment and they were barely making it. And Nichole had recently married and wasn’t in a position to be lending anyone money. The bottom line was that Cassie had made her own bed and it was up to her to climb out of it.

As for their mother, she was completely overwhelmed dealing
with the insurance company and attorneys. The death of their father had been unexpected, and she, too, was under a financial strain.

When Cassie had defied her family and married Duke, her father had predicted that one day she’d come crawling home. At the time, he’d been angry and upset. But Cassie figured he was right—she’d gotten into this mess all by herself. So she’d better be able to get herself out of it, too. With no help from her family, Cassie had struggled for years, working odd jobs, living on food stamps and in government housing, and eventually getting her certificate in cosmetology. Only then, after working a year in Florida, did Cassie have the means to return to the West Coast. For safety reasons, Cassie chose to move to the Seattle area. If Duke were ever to look for her, it would be in Spokane, not South Seattle.

Despite her brave front, Cassie had been hurt and angry to have been abandoned by her family. In the years she’d lived with Duke she’d held on to the hope that if she found the courage to leave she could rely on them. That had been an empty dream. She’d been foolish, and it seemed that in her family’s eyes, what she’d done was unforgivable. Cassie had been living in Washington state for two years and this was the first time that either of her two sisters had reached out to her.

It felt as if the letter was hot enough to burn her fingers. Cassie had been waiting a long time for this moment. She’d been eighteen and pregnant when she’d run away with Duke. Now, at thirty-one, Cassie was wise beyond her years.

Cassie’s tiny two-bedroom apartment was walking distance from the school where Amiee attended seventh-grade classes. It was hard to believe her twelve-year-old daughter was in junior high.

By the time she finished with the last hair appointment of the day, Cassie was tired. She’d been up since four that morning and the day had run her ragged both physically and emotionally.

“I cooked dinner,” Amiee announced proudly, when Cassie walked in the door.

“Great. What are we having? Cordon bleu? Steak Diane? Don’t tell me you made my all-time favorite … lasagna.”

“Mom,” Amiee groaned. “I don’t know how to cook any of that stuff. I made tuna casserole, only I tried to do it on the stovetop ’cause the oven doesn’t work.”

Cassie had complained to the landlord, not that it’d done her any good. The stove was on the fritz, the faucet leaked in the bathroom, and there was only intermittent hot water that went from hot to freezing cold without warning, most often when Cassie’s head was covered with shampoo.

“I saw a recipe on YouTube and it looked pretty easy,” Amiee explained as she stirred the pot. She beamed with pride at being
able to cook dinner, and Cassie was pleased that Amiee took the initiative.

Cassie flopped down on the sofa and removed her shoes before she rubbed feeling back into her toes. Next paycheck she’d get new shoes. Her current ones hurt her feet.

“How did the court case go with Maureen?” Amiee asked, as she continued to stir the pot.

“Really well.” Cassie had gotten the phone call shortly before she left the salon. Lonny had been sentenced to a one-year prison term with a $5,000 fine. He wouldn’t be bothering Maureen for a long time. “Maureen and her children are safe.”

Amiee studied her mother. “That’s good! Right?”

“Very good.” Cassie set her feet on the coffee table and leaned her head back to momentarily close her eyes. She didn’t dare let herself drift to sleep, although it was a tempting thought. After dinner she’d visit Maureen and then help Amiee with her homework. “How was school today?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Anything important happen?”

Amiee shrugged. “Not really. Claudia posted an ugly picture of Bailey on Facebook and then Bailey got mad and they wanted me to take sides. But I didn’t and then Bailey put a snarky comment about Claudia on Twitter that went all over school and then Mr. Sampson got involved and called both mothers to the school.” She paused and released a drawn-out sigh. “Do you want to hear more?”

“Not really.”

“I don’t blame you. The whole thing was cool.”

“Cool?”

“Bogus. Cool can mean a lot of things now, Mom, more than just … cool.”

“Right. It’s hard to keep up with it all,” Cassie said, doing her best not to smile, as her daughter was completely serious.

“I like Claudia, but Bailey is my BAE.”

“Your what?”

“My BAE. My best friend.
B
efore
A
nyone
E
lse. Get it?”

“Oh.” It was getting more difficult to keep up with her daughter.

Amiee brought down two mismatched plates from the cupboard and set them on the table and then carried over the pot with tuna casserole and placed it in the middle. “You ready to eat?”

“Ready and able.” Cassie’s half-a-banana lunch had long since left her starving. She moved from the couch to the table and noticed that the tuna casserole resembled a thick soup more than a casserole. From the time she was young, Cassie hadn’t been fond of canned tuna fish, but she didn’t have the heart to mention it to Amiee, who couldn’t get enough of it. Her daughter’s all-time favorite food, however, was KFC. Cassie swore her daughter would eat an entire bucket of chicken by herself if given the opportunity.

They sat across from each other, and after a brief prayer, Cassie dished up her plate. “This looks good.”

“Mom, you don’t need to say that. The sauce is runny and I overcooked the noodles. It looks awful, but at least I tried.”

“Honey, I came home to a cooked dinner; I’m not going to complain. Besides, while it might not look like much, it tastes great.” A slight exaggeration, but one that was warranted.

Amiee tried to hide how pleased she was. “So,” she said, looking across the table at her mother, “how was work?”

“Good.”

“Sorry, Mom, you can’t answer with one word—remember the rule. It’s got to be more than
good
or
okay
. We need to communicate. Isn’t that the word you used?”

“Right.”

Amiee wagged her index finger like a pendulum. “No one-word answers, Mom.”

“Okay, give me a minute to think. I was late for my appointment to cut Mrs. Belcher’s hair, but she didn’t mind. Oh, and I got a letter from my sister.” Was it a mistake to mention it, especially in light of the unfriendly tone?

Right away Amiee’s eyes brightened. “Which one?”

“Karen.”

“The one who lives in Spokane?”

Cassie nodded. Her daughter had a fascination with the aunts, uncles, and cousins she’d never met. Karen lived not far from the very home where they’d all been raised, and Nichole lived in Portland, Oregon.

“What did she say?” Amiee asked excitedly.

Cassie was sorry she’d mentioned the letter now. Her daughter wouldn’t understand the family dynamics with Cassie and her two sisters. Furthermore, it would be much too difficult to explain. “Not much,” she murmured, hoping to avoid details.

“Is she coming to visit, because she can sleep in my room and I can meet my cousins and they can sleep on the couch and I’ll sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag and we can watch movies and pop popcorn and stay up all night and talk and get to know each other. Cousins do that, you know. Bailey has a cousin who lives in Gig Harbor and she spends a lot of weekends with her. They’re BFFs. Wouldn’t it be cool to have a cousin who’s your BFF?” All this came out in one giant breath.

“Your BAE?” Cassie teased.

“That would be so cool,” Amiee said, sighing.

How Cassie wished life were that simple. Unwilling to disillusion her daughter, she made up an excuse why it was impossible for the families to get together. “Unfortunately,” Cassie said, “my sister Karen has an important job with a title company and she
can’t take time off work, so she probably won’t be visiting Seattle anytime soon.”

“Oh.” Amiee’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “What did her letter say?”

It could be a mistake to mention this, but Cassie did anyway. “She basically said she had something for me, but she didn’t say what and she said I should call her since she lost my phone number.”

“Did you?”

“Not yet.”

“Mom,” Amiee cried in a high-pitched half-moan. “What are you waiting for? Call your sister!”

“I will.” Cassie needed to think about this before she placed the call. It was those difficult family dynamics again. It didn’t help that Karen had made it perfectly clear that as far as she was concerned, Cassie had burned her bridges with the family.

“Call her, Mom.” Amiee insisted. “Why would you even hesitate? This is your sister. Do it.”

“But Karen’s probably just getting home from work and busy with dinner. Her daughter is only ten and is likely not as helpful in the kitchen as you,” she said, grinning.

“Can we visit her?” Amiee asked next.

This was a tricky question, too, and Cassie had to be careful how she answered. “Not for a while, I’m afraid. Our car, old and run-down as it is, would never make it to Spokane.”

Amiee was instantly unsettled. “I hate that car,” she cried. “It’s so old it should be in a museum. We could probably sell it for lots of money as an antique.”

“It gets me to and from work, so I’m not complaining.” Although, with more than 250,000 miles on it, how much longer her Honda would last was a major concern. Cassie was convinced heavenly intervention was the only reason the car continued to run.

“Call your sister, Mom. Please.” Amiee folded her hands as if she was in church and praying. “It’s not right that I’ve never even met my cousins.”

“Okay, okay.” Deep down, Cassie wanted to speak to her sister, but she was afraid. Until now, Karen had made it clear she’d prefer it if Cassie kept her distance. The letter she’d received hadn’t been written out of love. She wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted her sister to write it, but Cassie had the feeling she’d find out soon enough.

Even now, all these years later, Cassie remembered fighting with Karen. They had the same argument often. Her mother had told Karen to cook dinner so that Cassie could practice the piano. Then later, after Nichole had set and cleared the table, their father had asked Karen to wash dishes while Cassie played for him. He claimed listening to Cassie play helped him to relax.

That night Karen and Cassie had gotten into a huge fight.

“You’re spoiled rotten.” Karen had hurled the words at her like a World Series pitch right through the strike zone.

“I’m not,” Cassie had insisted.

“Are too. And don’t think I’ll help you study for that math test, either. If you’re so smart you’ll figure it out yourself. Or else run to Daddy for help. You’re his favorite, anyway.”

“I’m not, either,” Cassie insisted, but deep down she knew it was true. Their father had even promised her the cameo, which was a family heirloom, handed down from their grandmother to their father.

“You think you’re so special because you can play the piano.”

“You think you’re better than anyone else because you got your driver’s permit,” Cassie flashed back.

And so it had gone on, until it became a shouting match. Eventually their father had stepped in and separated them. Even then, as teenagers, their relationship was strained. From those dreamy summer evenings as children playing in the park it had all seemed
to go downhill. It hadn’t gotten any better in the intervening years, either. But that angry exchange of words didn’t compare to the final one just before Cassie ran away from home.