Blossom Street Brides (34 page)

Lydia looked away from the mirror, the eye-shadow applicator in her hand. “Cody’s spending the night with Jaxon.”

“Yeah, but I heard you talking to Jaxon’s mom,” Casey said as she leaned against the doorjamb, “and you
asked
if Cody could spend the night.”

“I did,” Lydia concurred.

“It’s not my birthday,” Casey reminded her.

“Yes, honey, I know.”

Casey straightened, left momentarily, and then just as quickly returned. “Are you mad at me about something?”

“No. Your father and I wouldn’t be taking you to dinner if we were upset about something, would we?”

Casey frowned with uncertainty. “Ah … I guess not.”

“My girls ready?” Brad called out from the living room. He’d been dressed and prepared to leave ten minutes earlier.

“Give me another second,” Lydia called back.

“I’m ready … I think,” Casey added. She walked out of the bedroom and came back a second time. “This dinner is about Grandma, isn’t it?”

“Casey, relax.” Lydia should have known her daughter would be apprehensive. She wished now that she’d explained matters earlier. “Yes, your father and I want to talk to you, but it isn’t anything bad.”

“I know Grandma’s getting worse,” Casey said, with a slight edge to her voice. “She sometimes can’t remember who I am now … and she forgets to eat.”

Her mother remained a major concern for Lydia. Earlier in the week Margaret and she had met with the director of the assisted-living complex regarding her mother’s return from the hospital. Since Mary Lou’s fall and stroke, her physical and mental health had rapidly deteriorated. Before the end of the meeting, Mrs. Wilson had recommended that Lydia’s mother be transferred to a memory-care facility.

Lydia hated the thought of bringing her mother into a completely new environment. While in the hospital and nursing home, she’d looked small and lost and afraid. Like everyone, her mother was most comfortable with what was familiar. And while she didn’t participate in many of the
social activities at the retirement facility, her mother had settled nicely into her own small apartment.

“Margaret and I are thinking about moving Mom,” Lydia explained.

Casey was instantly concerned. “Moving her? Where?”

“We don’t know yet. We’ve just started looking.”

Anxiety tightened Casey’s sweet face. “She’ll still be close by, won’t she? You aren’t taking her out of the city, are you?”

“Casey, I don’t know. Now, let’s get going; your father’s made reservations.”

Brad was already in the car by the time Lydia and Casey joined him. Casey climbed into the backseat, and, after snapping the seat belt in place, she tightly crossed her arms.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Brad asked, looking at Casey from the rearview mirror.

“Mom’s moving Grandma.”

“We really don’t have any choice, Casey,” Lydia explained with a tired sigh. “I don’t like it any better than you do.” This was a difficult decision and Lydia and her sister took their responsibility for their mother seriously.

“Grandma needs us,” Casey insisted.

“Which is what this is all about,” Lydia said, doing the best she could to explain. “Moving Mom to a memory-care facility is taking care of her the best way we know how.”

“Will I still be able to visit?”

“Of course.”

“What if this new place isn’t on a bus route?”

“Margaret and I will take that into consideration when
we check out the facilities.” The closeness between the two was an asset to her mother’s health. Casey’s attention and devotion had helped Mary Lou tremendously, and, for that matter, Casey, too.

“Promise you’ll do your best to keep Grandma close so I can visit her?”

“Promise,” Lydia echoed.

“Is all that settled now?” Brad asked. He still hadn’t backed out of the driveway.

“I guess,” Casey muttered with a pout. “But I don’t like the idea of Grandma moving.”

“I don’t think anyone wants this,” Brad assured her, “but, like your mother said, it’s necessary.”

“Whatever.”

Brad had made reservations at a fun Italian restaurant in the downtown Seattle area that specialized in spaghetti. The atmosphere was homey, and the food was good and relatively inexpensive. It was one of Casey’s favorites places to eat. Cody’s, too.

The hostess escorted them to a booth, and Casey sat across from Brad and Lydia. Brad ordered two glasses of Chianti Classico for Lydia and himself. Casey kept her gaze focused on them both after the server took their drink orders.

“Whatever it is you want to talk about must really be bad,” she muttered, studying her menu as if it were the final test for getting her driver’s license.

“Bad?” Brad asked. “What makes you say that?”

“I know stuff,” Casey said, leaning back in the polished
wooden booth. Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t live in as many homes as I have without picking up on things.”

“Really?” Brad leaned forward, highly interested, it seemed. “And what have you learned?”

“First off, I could always tell when a family had decided to pass me off to someone else. They reacted one of two ways. Either they completely ignored me as if I was already out the door. Or they started doing all kinds of nice things for me.”

“Like what?” Brad asked. “Taking you out to dinner in an Italian restaurant?”

“Not anything that big. Little things, like buying me a new pair of shoes or getting my hair cut or something like that.”

“You don’t think your father and I are going to pass you off to another family, do you?” Lydia asked. This had been a keen concern of Casey’s earlier. Lydia hoped that by now Casey had come to understand that she was their daughter, a part of their family, and a big part of their hearts and their lives.

“No, no,” Casey assured them. “It’s not that.”

“So what are you thinking?” Brad asked.

The server returned with the two glasses of wine and Casey’s favorite soda. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

They each decided on something different. Lydia enjoyed the eggplant Parmesan, Brad asked for spaghetti and meatballs, and Casey wanted lasagna. After writing down their requests, the server left.

Brad waited until the young man was gone before he
said, “Getting back to your answer to my question.” He gestured for Casey to continue with her explanation. “You think something’s up because your mother and I are taking you to dinner.”

“Without Cody,” Casey added pointedly, “who you made sure was someplace else this evening.”

“Without Cody,” Brad said, and reached for his wineglass.

Her husband, Lydia noticed, seemed to be enjoying this.

She wasn’t. Already, her stomach was in knots, and she wondered if she’d even be able to taste her dinner.

“I figure you and Mom want to tell me something,” Casey continued, “only I don’t know what it is.”

“We aren’t sending you away,” Lydia reiterated.

“Well, duh. If you were going to do that you would have done it long before now. I’m not the easiest kid.”

Brad chuckled. Sensing her nervousness, he reached for Lydia’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Casey, you aren’t so bad.”

“My grades were good.” Casey was proud of her final school report, and well she should be. She’d scored As and Bs in every subject. When she’d first come to them, her grades had been below average and she’d struggled in reading and math skills.

“Your grades weren’t just good; they were great. Even in math,” Lydia added. The subject had been her daughter’s weakest. It was because Casey needed to attend a summer-school course in math that she’d originally come to live with them.

“You’re taking me to dinner because you wanted to tell me about Grandma?” Her voice elevated with the question as though she was afraid of what they had to say.

“Not really,” Lydia said, “although that’s part of it.”

Casey shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the nightmares, then, isn’t it?”

“Indirectly.”

“You’re afraid what’s going to happen to me if Grandma dies.”

“It has us worried, honey,” Lydia agreed. “And it isn’t if Grandma dies, it’s when.”

Casey brushed off their concern. “I’ll be okay.”

“What about the nightmares?” Brad asked.

“They’ll go away eventually,” Casey answered, as if these horrific dreams were a small thing.

“They’ve been happening more frequently lately.”

Casey lowered her eyes and nodded. “I know, but it’ll get better soon.”

All evidence pointed to exactly the opposite.

“I’ve had these dreams before, and they come and go,” she mentioned casually. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

Brad looked over at their daughter, and his words were low and serious. “Casey, these dreams terrify you; we want to help.”

Their daughter looked up again and blinked several times. “You want me to tell you about the dream, don’t you? That’s why you brought me to dinner.”

“No, sweetheart, we don’t need you to tell us, especially since you feel strongly about it. You haven’t
wanted to talk about what the dream involves, and that’s fine.”

“It is?” A look of relief came over her as her shoulders relaxed against the back of the booth.

“But you need someone who can help you.”

Right away, Casey tensed again and adamantly shook her head. “I don’t need anyone.”

“Casey …”

“I’ll outgrow it.”

“Sweetheart, listen,” Lydia said gently, and leaned forward, stretching her arm across the table, “we aren’t doing this because we’re angry or upset. We want to help you get over whatever it is that is causing you to have these nightmares.”

“I don’t want to know what’s causing them,” she said, her voice growing stronger now. The people in the booth across from them glanced over, and right away Casey lowered her voice. “I’ll be okay … I won’t have the dream anymore.”

“You’re being unrealistic. Sooner or later you’ll need to confront whatever is behind this.”

“No, I won’t,” Casey insisted, in complete denial.

“All we’re asking,” Brad said in gentle, encouraging tones, “is that you talk to someone trained in this area who will help explain why this is happening. And then they can give you a means of dealing with it.”

“Like who am I supposed to talk to?” That suspicious edge was back in full force.

“A trained professional.”

Casey flattened her hands on the tabletop and half rose from the bench seat. “Are you going to send me to the loony bin?”

“Loony bin?” Lydia said, unable to hold back a smile. “Where in heaven’s name did you ever hear that expression?”

“From Grandma.”

“Of course,” Lydia whispered. It should have been obvious.

“To answer your question, your mother and I aren’t sending you anywhere. You’re staying with us.”

Casey took a long drink of her soda through the straw. “That’s a relief.”

“But we want you to talk to someone.”

“Who?” Casey’s eyes narrowed.

“A counselor.”

Even before the word was completely out of Brad’s mouth, Casey started to shake her head. “No way.”

“Casey, please listen.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

The waiter delivered their dinners, but they barely noticed. Casey sat with her back as stiff as a corpse, determination written on every part of her body.

“Besides, we can’t afford for me to talk to anyone. I heard you and Dad discussing this a few months back. When Dad found out how expensive seeing a counselor was, he said there was no way the family could fit it into the budget.”

“But I also said,” Brad interrupted, “that we would find a way, because that’s what families do. You need help, and as your parents, we are determined to see that you get it.”

“A counselor costs lots of money,” Casey reminded them, looking smug.

“The thing is,” Lydia said, gripping her daughter’s hand, “we have already made an appointment with a counselor. Evelyn Boyle recommended one who is willing to charge us on a sliding scale.”

“A what?” Casey asked with a frown.

“We’ll be charged according to our income level,” Brad explained.

“And because of the boom in sales at the yarn store, we’re able to do this. I need to thank whoever it was who put out those baskets.”

“The yarn baskets?” Casey echoed, her frown darkening.

“I don’t know who is behind this, but I owe them a huge debt of appreciation. My business has gone way up due to all the publicity. I’ve been able to give Margaret extra hours and make some improvements I’d been putting off due to finances. And now we can get you the help you need, too.”

“Whoever thought of that idea did your mother a huge favor,” Brad added.

Her daughter lowered her head, but not before Lydia noticed a huge smile come into place. “Casey?”

“It was Grandma and me. Oh, and Ava helped me, too.”

“Excuse me?” Lydia was sure she hadn’t heard correctly.

Casey looked up. “It was Grandma and me,” she repeated, louder this time. “I heard you and Dad talking about how the yarn store is barely surviving financially. I told Grandma, and we decided we should do something to help.”

“You seem to listen in on other people’s conversations a lot,” Brad noticed.

Casey shrugged. “It’s a habit I picked up in foster homes. It was the only way I knew what was happening.”

“Go on,” Lydia said, anxious now to hear about her mother and Casey’s scheme.

Excitedly, Casey reached for her fork and waved it about. “Like I said, I heard you tell Dad that the yarn store wasn’t doing so great. Then I told Grandma. Together we came up with the idea of putting baskets with yarn around for people to knit.”

“Who thought of it?”

Casey shrugged. “Grandma, sort of. She said whenever she saw a basket with yarn in it she wanted to sit down and knit a few rows. That got me to thinking that maybe other people might feel the same way.”

“But, my goodness, where did you get all those baskets?”

“From Grandma.”

Mary Lou had several such baskets, but Lydia specifically remembered clearing them out of the house when they moved their mother. “Margaret and I gave those baskets to charity.”

“You tried, you mean,” Casey said, her smile huge now. “Grandma took them out of the pile and had them placed in a box in her storage unit at the assisted-living place.”