the street where Dolores lived, Anne Marie examined the neighborhood more closely than she had before. It consisted of mostly older homes, many of them in ill repair. Now Anne Marie couldn’t help wondering if this was a safe place for Ellen—or Dolores for that matter.
It’d been weeks since she’d seen the Falk home, which seemed even shabbier and more run-down now that she really looked at it. The front porch tilted, indicating the foundation had eroded on one side. The roof had a plastic tarp over part of it. Funny, Anne Marie hadn’t noticed that before. The yard needed some serious attention; the flower beds sprouted weeds and a lone rosebush struggled for survival, choked off by the encroaching lawn. A pang went through Anne Marie at leaving Ellen here. Yet, this was her home….
“After we say hello to your grandmother, I’ll need your help carrying in the groceries.” Before heading over to Dolores’s house, Anne Marie and Ellen had picked up some necessities. She didn’t think Dolores would be up to a trip to the grocery store anytime soon.
“Okay,” Ellen agreed. She’d already put Baxter in the back and unfastened her seat belt.
With a smile, Anne Marie watched Ellen dash out of the car and fly across the yard. She threw open the front door, then barreled inside. By the time Anne Marie entered the house, she found Ellen in her grandmother’s arms, both of them a little teary. For an instant Anne Marie felt like an intruder.
Dolores Falk looked up at Anne Marie. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my girl.”
“I was glad to do it,” Anne Marie said simply.
Holding on to her grandmother, Ellen said, “Anne Marie’s still going to be my Lunch Buddy and she said I can see Baxter anytime I want. We’re growing seeds and she taught me to knit and we knit every night after dinner when I’m finished my homework.”
Dolores had heard about Ellen’s knitting at least a dozen times. The child was more animated today than Anne Marie had ever seen her.
Breaking away from her grandmother, Ellen raced toward the hallway. “I want to see my room!”
“I didn’t have an actual bed for her at my place,” Anne Marie explained. “She slept on a pull-out sofa.” She wished now that she’d purchased a bed for Ellen, but it hadn’t seemed logical at the time. She couldn’t possibly have known the girl would be with her a full month.
Obviously fatigued, Dolores sank into her recliner. “I’m just so grateful for everything you did.”
“I’m going to miss her.” The apartment, tiny though it was, would seem empty without her.
Ellen tore back into the living room. “Should we bring my clothes in now?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Anne Marie said briskly. For a moment she’d forgotten about Ellen’s bags and the groceries. “We got a few things we thought you’d need for the first couple of days,” she told Dolores. “Enough to last until you can get to the grocery store.”
Dolores seemed about to weep. “God bless you.”
Anne Marie shrugged off her appreciation and, with Ellen at her side, returned to her vehicle. Baxter, lying in the backseat, didn’t seem pleased to be left out of the action.
“Can I take Baxter for a walk?” Ellen asked as she pressed her nose to the car window.
“Help me first and then you can take him. Just be sure his leash is secure.”
“Okay.”
They collected Ellen’s various bags, unloaded the groceries and brought everything inside. Anne Marie sorted through the cartons of milk and juice, the vegetables, cereal, cheese and bread, and organized them as logically as she could so Dolores wouldn’t have any problem locating what she needed.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked Dolores once Ellen had come back with the dog.
“No, no—you’ve done far more than I would’ve thought to ask.”
Anne Marie moved toward the front door, reluctant to leave. “Ellen, finish your homework, okay?”
“I will.”
“See you soon,” Anne Marie said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
“Okay.” Ellen hugged Baxter goodbye, then ran across the living room to throw her thin arms around Anne Marie, holding tight. Her shoulders trembled with her sobbing.
“Hey,” Anne Marie said, bending down. “This is your home, remember? You’re back with your Grandma Dolores. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, but…” Ellen sniffled. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, but we’ll see each other often.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, and I always keep my promises,” Anne Marie said. “You know that, right?” She rubbed Ellen’s back gently as the child nodded. “In fact, why don’t I stop by tomorrow evening to see how every-thing’s going?” Glancing over at Dolores, she asked, “If that’s okay with your grandmother?”
“That would be just fine,” Dolores said.
Anne Marie left a few minutes later. As she drove away from the bedraggled little house, she experienced an overwhelming sense of loss. For one wild moment, she felt a compelling urge to turn back. She couldn’t imagine what she’d say if she did. Ellen belonged with her grandmother; Dolores deeply loved this child. So did she. Anne Marie realized it with a shock that galvanized her.
She understood now that what she’d seen as affection, caring, a feeling of responsibility—all emotions she’d readily acknowledged—added up to one thing. Love.
She loved this little girl and wanted to be part of her life for as long as she could.
“Well, Baxter,” she murmured, sighing loudly. “It’s just you and me again.”
Her Yorkie, who’d been sitting up in the backseat, turned in a circle several times, then dropped down. He curled up, nose to tail, and Anne Marie thought he seemed as despondent as she was.
When she reached her quiet apartment, she roamed from room to room, feeling restless. Dissatisfied. Living here was only supposed to be a temporary situation. The apartment was empty when she’d separated from Robert and it had seemed the logical place to live while they sorted out their differences. It really was time to look for a house, a home for her and Baxter. She might see if she could find one in the same area as Ellen, a fixer-upper she could keep for a while and then sell for a nice profit.
As she moved into the kitchen to prepare a sandwich, Anne Marie stopped abruptly, recognizing something about herself. She was different than she’d been a month ago. She’d gradually changed into a woman who could make her own wishes come true. A woman who was ready to move on with her life. This was the gift Ellen had given her. She’d opened Anne Marie’s eyes to the many ways she’d been blessed, despite her losses, and the many possibilities that still existed.
Preparing for bed, she paused in the doorway to Ellen’s room. The bed was a sofa again, and Baxter had
