Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ on a Monday afternoon, after no contact in almost two weeks, Annie had phoned and invited Courtney to her house. Her grandmother dropped her off at the Hamlins’ on her way to the church, where Vera volunteered at the library once a month. Before she moved to Seattle, Courtney had assumed her grandmother sat in front of the television and knit most afternoons. Boy, had she been wrong. Vera was at the pool four mornings a week and ate a robust breakfast. Then she worked in her yard and garden. She probably spent as many hours doing volunteer work, including various church committees, as she would’ve spent on a full-time job.

      As Grams drove off, Courtney stood on the sidewalk and examined Annie’s house. She immediately liked the brick structure with its steep front steps, rounded door and the gable that jutted out over the small porch. It reminded her of homes in some Chicago neighborhoods.

      Homesickness rushed through her. Chicago was where she had friends, where everything was familiar. Courtney hated having to rebuild her life in her senior year of high school. She’d worked for eleven years to reach this point, and she’d looked forward to being with her friends, some of whom she’d known nearly her entire life.

      She found it hard not to feel sorry for herself, but Courtney knew, and had long ago accepted, that this sacrifice was necessary. Julianna had recently reminded Courtney that next year, when she left for college, she’d be experiencing the same kind of dislocation, so in essence Courtney was simply making the move a year earlier than she normally would. She’d be that much more prepared for college, Julianna said, and Courtney appreciated her sister’s insight. She relied on the contact with her family, especially Julianna, to ward off feelings of isolation.

      Annie opened the door before Courtney had even rung the bell. “I saw your grandmother pull up,” she said. She wore tight shorts, a loose T-shirt and big fuzzy slippers.

      And she wasn’t smiling. Their conversation had been short, and she wondered if it’d been prompted by Bethanne or if Annie was sincere about wanting to see her. At the time, Courtney had been too grateful to question the other girl’s motives.

      “How’s it going?” Courtney asked, walking into the house.

      “All right, I guess.” Annie turned and headed up the stairs.

      Courtney followed her, although she wished she could look around a bit more. The house was beautiful, with cream-colored walls, furniture upholstered in dark reds and greens, shining wood floors, simple but expensive-looking area rugs. Fresh flowers graced the mantel. As she’d expected, Bethanne had gorgeous taste.

      Photographs lined the wall, and she paused long enough to look at the family portrait, obviously taken in better times. Andrew resembled his father, with deep blue eyes and a strong square chin, and Annie took after her mother. “Where is everyone?” she asked, trudging up the carpeted stairs.

      “Out,” Annie responded. “Why? Is that a problem?”

      Courtney decided to ignore the lack of welcome. “It’s fine with me.”

      “Good.” Annie had reached the top of the stairs and frowned when she saw Courtney regarding the framed portraits. “I told Mom to throw those away, but she wouldn’t do it.”

      The glass in the most recent family photograph was cracked, and Courtney wondered if Annie had tried to destroy it. “There’s pictures of my mother all over our house in Chicago, too.” Or there had been before the house was rented. “I used to come home, all excited about something, and rush into the house. Then as soon as I saw Mom’s photo I’d start to cry.” Talking about it still had that effect on her, and she turned aside to blot her eyes with her sleeve.

      Annie didn’t respond for a moment, and when she did speak, her voice was barely above a whisper. “When Dad first left, I thought for sure he’d be back. I hated him for leaving us. I wanted to … to punish him, and at the same time, I wanted him here, the way he’d always been.” She looked away as if she’d said more than she’d intended.

      “I didn’t cry at my mom’s funeral,” Courtney confessed. “Everyone was sobbing and carrying on. Even my dad broke down.” It was difficult to tell anyone this, even now, but she felt Annie would understand.

      “Why not?” Annie asked.

      “I think I must’ve been in shock. So many people came to the funeral and there was all this talk about how good Mom looked. She didn’t look good—she looked dead.” Her voice cracked as she said this and she lowered it, not wanting Annie to hear how emotional she got talking about her mom. “I wanted everyone to go away. I didn’t want all those people around me. That night—” she paused, swallowing hard “—after everyone left and we’d gone to bed, I couldn’t sleep. Then it hit me. We’d just buried Mom. This wasn’t like some TV show. She was gone. I couldn’t stand it. I started to scream.”

      Annie stared at her. “You must’ve felt bad,” she said quietly.

      “I did. So bad.” Courtney nodded. “I couldn’t stop. I screamed and screamed. Everyone came rushing into my room, and all I could do was scream. I wanted my mother. I wanted her with me. I felt like I was the one who died, not her. I wished it was me.”

      “What did your dad do?”

      “Dad held me.” Tears streaked her face and once again she wiped them away.

      “Then Jason and Julianna sat on my bed with Dad and me, and we all cried together. Up until then, I’d been the youngest, you know? Julianna and I weren’t that close—Jason and I weren’t, either—but we became real brother and sisters that night. Our whole family changed. We’re all so close now.” She was embarrassed to have said this much.

      Annie looked as if she didn’t know what to say.

      Courtney wanted her to realize that while she’d lost her father, he was still a part of her life, and she should be grateful for that.

      “My room’s over here.” Annie gestured down the hallway.

      Courtney gave the photos one last look and followed her slowly up the rest of the stairs and into the bedroom.

      Annie was sitting on her bed when Courtney came in. Discarded clothes littered the floor and the dresser was piled with CDs, books, makeup and magazines. A picture of a boy was stuck in a corner of the mirror.

      Courtney walked over to study the snapshot. Another one she hadn’t initially noticed was taped to the bottom edge of the mirror. It was of Annie and the same boy at a school dance, standing beneath an archway of white and black balloons. Annie wore a pink party dress with a matching floral shawl and her date had on a suit.

      “That’s Conner,” Annie whispered, her voice quavering. “We broke up a couple of months ago. He said I’d gotten to be a drag.”

      “He’s cute.” Courtney assumed Annie still cared about him, otherwise she wouldn’t have kept the photos.

      Annie shrugged. “He’s all right.”

      “Do you ever see him anymore?”

      “Once in a while. He’s going out with someone else now, but he’s on the football team with Andrew, so it’s unavoidable, you know? You like my brother, don’t you?”

      Courtney whirled around at the unexpectedness of the comment and felt color flood her face. “I—I think he’s nice.” She was afraid to say СКАЧАТЬ