Follow the Stars Home (30 page)

The dog let out a small bark, and with her eyes still closed she heard Amy say, “This is your home now, Orion. You don't have to be afraid.”

Since Lucinda was the guest of honor, she decided she could invite whomever she wanted to the library dance. She chose Dianne and Amy. A nurse's aide would come that night to stay with Julia. Orion would serve as watchdog while the family was gone.

The dance was to be held in the library itself, on the second Saturday of August. Dianne took Amy shopping, and they bought dresses at the Schooner Shop in Essex. This was
the
shop in the area, the place where all special-occasion clothes were bought. Dianne's mother had taken her there many times, and Dianne felt happy to be sharing it with Amy.

“Is it okay?” Amy asked, coming out of the dressing room in a yellow dress that made her dark curls and green eyes look even more beautiful.

“You look gorgeous,” Dianne said.

“I do?” Amy asked, turning as she looked in the mirror. Her face was a combination of shyness, pride, and excitement. Dianne had the feeling she'd never been to a nice dress shop before.

“You do,” Dianne said, turning Julia's stroller so she could watch Amy.

“You make me feel like a princess,” Amy said, flinging herself into Dianne's arms. “I've never been to a store like this. Thank you.”

But on the way home Amy seemed quiet. Crossing the Baldwin Bridge, she stared down the Connecticut River to Long Island Sound, deep in thought.

“What's wrong?” Dianne asked, glancing across the truck seat.

“Nothing,” Amy said, clutching the bag to her chest.

“You really look lovely in your dress.”

“Hmm.”

“I know who else would think so,” Dianne said.

Amy looked up.

“Your mother,” Dianne said. “Would you like to show her?”

“She doesn't have many pretty things,” Amy said, staring at her knees. “I'm afraid she'd feel bad.”

“Mothers usually hope their daughters can have the things they can't have themselves,” Dianne said.

The court had mandated that Amy be removed from her home until school started in September, and they were midway through the summer. Her mother had visitation rights as long as Buddy was nowhere on the premises. It was decided that Tess Brooks should come see Amy at the Robbinses on Saturday mornings, but she had canceled twice so far, saying she was sick.

Dianne had watched Amy close down each time her mother had backed out. Amy would stop playing with Julia, stop talking, stop eating, and just watch TV. She could stare at the screen for hours on end, no matter what the programs were. When Dianne or
Lucinda tried to ask her how she felt, Amy would just say she wasn't upset, her mother got sick a lot.

But it was clear to Dianne that she missed her mother terribly. She would wake up at night, hear Amy crying into her pillow. It frustrated Dianne all the more because Tess was supposed to drop off Amy's birth certificate. If they stopped by now, they could pick it up.

“We could call,” Dianne began.

“To make sure Buddy's not there?” Amy asked, sounding excited. “And then go see her?”

“Yes,” Dianne said.

They stopped at a Dairy Mart, and Dianne used the pay phone. There was no answer. They decided to drive past Amy's house. There was no sign of Buddy's truck, but the curtains were drawn in every room.

“Should we go in?” Dianne asked. “Would you like me to go first to make sure he's not here?”

“That's okay,” Amy said, staring at one window in particular. “We'd better not go inside. She gets pretty tired.”

Dianne imagined Amy's mother lying in bed, and she could see Amy worrying about what state she would find her in. It would be embarrassing with Dianne there. But as Dianne pulled away from the curb, Amy looked back over her shoulder, boundless love and longing in her green eyes.

Dianne was determined that Amy should see her mother. Besides, she needed that birth certificate. When she got home, she would call Alan. She knew he'd come through.

Anyone paying twenty-five dollars could attend the library dance. They were encouraged to contribute
more if they could. The Hawthorne Public Library needed more books, more computers, a new roof. The librarians were all underpaid. Every year Alan McIntosh wrote out a check for a thousand dollars, hauled out a blue blazer, and put on a tie.

This year he had a mission to perform on the way. Dianne had called, asking him for a favor. It was early when he stopped by to pick Amy up; Dianne was over in her studio with Julia. Lucinda was upstairs getting dressed, but Amy was ready and waiting. She stood just inside the screen door, looking out with anticipation and shy pride.

“Hi,” she said, beaming.

“Amy Brooks, is that really you?”

“Yep,” she said. Twirling around, she let him see her new dress. It was just right for her coloring, for an end-of-the-summer party. Alan felt as if he were picking up his own daughter, taking her to her first dance.

“Let's go, then,” he said, holding the door open, taking her arm, and walking her to the car. “You look beautiful, Amy. I'm proud to be seen with you.”

Amy beamed as he held the car door open. Alan looked up, saw Lucinda, a towel wrapped around her head, waving good-bye from upstairs. He glanced at the studio, saw Dianne in her work clothes, watching from the open door. Their eyes widened and locked, and they both smiled. He felt her watching them drive away.

“Mom knows we're coming?” Amy asked as he drove toward her house.

“Yes,” he said. “She's all ready.”

“Do I look okay? Will she think I'm too fancy?”

“You're wonderful,” Alan said. “That's what she'll think you are.”

Walking up her own front steps, Amy seemed
anxious, twisting her hands like Julia. Alan rang the bell. Footsteps sounded inside. Amy let out a big breath. She posed herself as if standing before a mirror: straight back, folded hands, unfolded hands, pleasant smile, no smile. But as soon as the door opened, her nervousness evaporated.

“Mommy!” Amy yelled, throwing herself into her mother's arms.

“Amy,” Tess Brooks cried. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Alan stood aside, watching the reunion. The mother and daughter just stood there, holding each other, rocking back and forth. After a while, taking Amy's hand, Tess led them into the living room. It was clean and bright, the curtains wide open.

“Look at you,” Tess said. “Just look at you!”

“Too fancy?” Amy asked, plucking her skirt.

“No, honey. You're beautiful. Oh, I miss you so much….”

“Mom, I miss you,” Amy said.

“You know, there's something I need to tell you. About being sorry those Saturday mornings,” Tess said. “When I didn't go see you.”

“I know there's something going around. Some flu or some awful thing,” Amy said quickly, as if she couldn't stand to hear this.

“It wasn't the flu,” Tess said, her hands shaking. “I've been sick in another way. I've been depressed …I have depression. That's what it's called. I wanted you to know it's an actual condition. I'm not just making it up or anything.”

“It's okay, Mom,” Amy said quickly. “You don't have to apologize.”

Alan remembered the feeling, wanting to let his mother off the hook. He admired Tess Brooks for what she did next. Taking Amy's hands in her own, she gazed into her daughter's eyes.

“Yes, Amy,” Tess said. “I do.”

“Shhh, Mom,” Amy said. “You don't have to—”

“Since your father died,” Tess continued on, “I haven't taken care of myself very well. It was so awful, such a nightmare, losing him. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep, so I wouldn't have to think. And that's what I did.”

Amy listened, wide-eyed.

“That was bad enough,” Tess said. “But the worst part was, I didn't take care of you very well either. I've been neglecting you—”

“No,” Amy said. “You don't—”

“I have, honey. It's okay. I have to start being honest, or we won't get anywhere. I've kicked Buddy out.”

“Mom!” Amy's eyes brightened.

“And I'm seeing a therapist to help me with my depression. Like I said, it's real. It's as real as pneumonia.”

“Then …I can come home?” Amy asked.

“Soon,” Tess said.

“Why not now? I don't have to go to the dance. Dr. McIntosh can take me back to get my things, or we can get them later. I don't care. I just want to stay home with you.”

“Amy, we have to wait and see,” her mother said gently. “The state says you should stay with the Robbinses, and I think that's a good plan. Just to make sure.”

“Make sure what?” Amy asked, aghast. It was as if someone had shown her paradise, then locked the door on it. Her face was twisted with disappointment and grief. “That you still love me enough?”

“Oh, Amy,” Tess said, pulling her daughter close. “That could never be in doubt.”

“Then what?” Amy cried.

“That she loves herself enough,” Alan said. “To keep taking care of herself.”

Tess looked up at him with gratitude. She nodded, unable to speak. Helping Tess and Amy, he felt he was being given a second chance with his own past. He was a physician now, a lot wiser than he'd been when his own mother had been so sick.

“You have to,” Amy said to Tess, holding her mother's face in her hands, staring sternly through tears into her eyes. “You have to take care of yourself.”

“I'm getting help,” Tess said. “It doesn't happen as fast as I want it to.”

“You have to get better or else!” Amy said, and her mother laughed.

“My little tyrant,” she said. “Always trying to boss me around.”

“I want to stay …” Amy said, clinging to her mother.

“Come on, Amy,” Alan said, pulling her gently from behind. “What would Lucinda think if you weren't there in the audience to see her get her plaque?”

“She did invite me,” Amy said solemnly to her mother.

“Then you'd better go,” Tess said.

“What made you kick him out?” Amy asked.

“When I saw the picture,” Tess said, swallowing. “Of your bruises. I was standing right here when he did it, but somehow I didn't see. I believed his story, that it was an accident. But when I saw that photo, saw his big handprint on your beautiful shoulder …” Bending over, Tess kissed Amy's neck and shoulder.

“Thank you,” Amy whispered.

“Now, it's a beautiful night,” Tess said, her eyes bright. “I want you to go to the library and dance one for me!”

“I will,” Amy promised.

“I'll make sure,” Alan said, giving Tess Brooks a long look. She handed him the white paper he had come for. He nodded his thanks.

“Have a wonderful time,” Tess said, “and send me …”

“Send you what?” Amy asked.

Tess just shook her head. She seemed young and hopeful, but Alan could see the raw hurt in her eyes, watching Amy leave. She was taking care of herself, trying to be honest, loving her child the best she could, letting go for now. From the doctor's point of view, that was how the healing began.

The library was transformed. The band played at the far end of the main reading room. All the tables and chairs had been taken out to create a dance floor. People sipped punch and ate small sandwiches made by volunteers. The only decorations were the books themselves, shelves full of them, their spines garnet, topaz, and verdant in the lamplight.

Dianne had pinned up her hair, put on a little makeup. She wore a brand-new dress, a sleeveless silk sheath of periwinkle blue she had bought because Amy said it matched her eyes. She also wore Dorothea McIntosh's diamond and sapphire earrings. As she stood in the corner, listening to the music, she felt excited and happy. She hadn't had a night out in a long time.

Watching her mother, she felt so proud. Everyone wanted to talk to Lucinda. They surrounded her, telling stories of how she had helped them do research projects, find favorite authors, learn about poetry. Lucinda took it all in, beaming.