Three Little Words (21 page)

When Gay reheated some chicken from the night before, I said, “We never have to eat leftovers at The Children’s Home.”

“Help yourself to an alternative meal if you want,” she responded.

I poked around in the pantry and came out cradling a bag of Doritos.

“That’s not a nutritious choice,” Gay groaned.

I rattled the chip bag, then slowly parted the sides. My mischievous look dared Gay to say something as the bag burst open.

“Put that back!”

“Would you like me to make you a grilled cheese sandwich?” Phil asked.

“Sure. I’m
starving!
I want five.”

“Five!” Gay exploded. “You can have two,” she sputtered, “then have some salad or fruit. If you are hungry after that, you can have more.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just make her what she’ll eat,” Phil replied.

“She’ll never eat five sandwiches.”

“Then she’ll learn to self-limit,” he said.

I wolfed down three of the sandwiches, belching loudly to punctuate my victory. I plopped myself on the couch to watch television. Gay fumed as she cleaned up the waste.

I overheard her whispering to Phil in the kitchen. “We have to teach her healthy eating habits. And, besides, this was about control.”

“Who lost control?” he countered.

“You didn’t back me up, so she won.”

“She’s lost control of her whole life. Isn’t it good that she has some now?”

“There’s a difference between self-control and manipulation,” Gay snarled, and stomped upstairs to her office.

Phil came and sat beside me on the sofa. I plopped my feet in his lap—a signal for a foot rub. It was nice to have him on my side.

After the New England trip I asked to move in with the Courters full-time. “You haven’t completed the visitation schedule,” Beth Lord reminded me.

“I don’t want to waste more time at Roland Park Middle.”

“There are technical problems,” the adoption worker admitted. “The Department of Children and Families hasn’t completed some paperwork.”

The next time I saw Gay, I appealed to her. “I want to celebrate my birthday with my new family; and now because they can’t get the papers done in time, I can’t.”

Gay contacted Mary Miller. “We’re licensed as foster parents,” she told my guardian. “We can take her as a foster child while they work out the details.”

Mary Miller agreed to the plan; however, the department didn’t have anyone available who could supervise me. Beth Lord, who often visited her mother in Citrus County, offered to do it.

My last day at The Children’s Home was Halloween. For Luke’s sake, I went trick-or-treating in the university dorms. The next day Phil picked me up. I packed every last possession, said my farewells to Sabrina, the rest of the cottage staff, and the other kids, and headed out the door.

Luke trailed me. “Don’t go yet,” he whined.

“The Hudsons are picking you up soon,” I said. “You’re going to visit them.” He clutched my arm. “C’mon, Lukie. I gotta go.” It was like trying to disengage an octopus. As soon as I unwound one arm, he curled his leg around mine.

When a staff member pulled him off me, Luke turned and kicked the wall. Phil hurried me to the car. In the distance I could hear my brother screaming. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”

When I arrived at the Courters’, Gay helped me unpack. She held up one of my collared Roland Park shirts. “Since you won’t be wearing uniforms, you’ll need more school outfits.”

“May I get new sneakers, too?”

“Yes,” Gay said. “But you still have to try everything on.”

I agreed, but I refused to allow Gay in the fitting room.

Phil asked me to model my new outfits. “Which should I wear the first day?”

“What about the overalls?” he suggested.

“That sounds good,” I said, and laid them out with a pink tie-dyed shirt.

At bedtime the Courters came to tuck me in. Phil said, “We like to give good-night kisses. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes,” I replied, “but I’ll never kiss you back.”

“That’s fine”—he brushed my forehead with his lips—“though you can always change your mind.”

After Phil left the room, Gay stroked my hair. “It’s okay not to love us.” I kept my face buried in my pillow, yet my ears were on full alert. “And I’m not going to say that I love you, because I haven’t known you long enough to feel that way. I like you very much and I want you to be my daughter forever, but love is something that grows with shared experiences. I feel the buds of love growing, but it hasn’t blossomed yet.”

I could not believe she was being so honest. She took a long breath. “There is nothing we can say to make you believe that we’ll be here for you. You’ll only learn it by living with us year after year after year.” She smoothed my hair again and stood up. The bedsprings creaked. I turned enough to see her hovering over me, and for the first time, I saw her as more of a protector than a stranger. “Ashley, one of these days I will tell you that I love you. When you hear those three words from my lips, you will know they come from my heart. Sweet dreams, sweetie,” she said, and stepped out in the hall.

On my first day of school Phil handed me a lunch box containing cheese sandwiches and pickles. “I want to be certain you’ll have something you like.”

“I’ve never taken my own lunch.” I had always been a free-lunch kid.

He handed me two dollars. “Here’s money in case you want to buy something else. Later you can choose whether you want to pack lunch or buy it.”

Since Phil’s office was close to the school, he said he would drive me. “You’d have to get up an hour earlier for the school bus, and some of those kids can be tough.”

“No kidding!” I told him about the time one of The Children’s Home kids had terrorized a bus and the police had to rescue us.

The guidance counselor knew Phil, and they chatted while he filled out the enrollment forms. Phil noticed that I was quivering. “Cutie-pie, you’re going to be fine, but if you need me, I can come back in two seconds.”

A girl walked up to me. “I’m Grace Morrow,” she said. “I’m here to walk you to Ms. Mac’s class.” I followed her closely because my eyes were blurring. “We have a bunch of the same classes.” The hallway swarmed with so many students that I almost lost sight of my guide. Grace waved me into the science classroom.

“Hi, I’m Ms. MacDonald, but everyone calls me ‘Ms. Mac.’” The teacher smiled. “You came on a good day, because we’re watching a movie and having popcorn. But don’t think it’s always this much fun.”

A pack of students thundered into the room. My knees felt like jelly. Tears spurted unexpectedly. Ms. Mac steered me into the hall. “Honey, are you okay?”

“I w-want to go h-home!” I wailed.

Ms. Mac asked Grace to take me back to the guidance office. In a few minutes Phil was sitting beside me. “Take me home!” I begged.

“Ash, I’ll do that if you want, but you’ll still have to come back tomorrow.” I soaked Phil’s handkerchief. “Okay, cutie-pie? You can do it!”

Grace walked me back to the class, where everyone was now watching the movie. At the bell Ms. Mac said, “Why don’t you stay and help me pop the popcorn for the rest of my classes today?”

Gay picked me up at the end of the day. “We’re proud of you for sticking it out,” she said. “Tomorrow will be easier, and in a few days you’ll make a friend.”

“I doubt it,” I mumbled, although two days later Grace invited me to a slumber party at her house with her friend Tess. I had never been allowed to stay overnight at a friend’s house before. “Please can I go?” I begged Gay.

“You’re still a foster child.”

“So I can’t go?”

“I don’t want to risk them sending you back on a technicality, even for a few weeks, but there’s no reason Grace can’t come to our house.” She gave a theatrical groan. “And then we have to plan for your birthday the week after that.”

“I hardly know anyone here to invite.” I sighed.

“The only solution is to have two parties,” Gay replied. “We’ll have a few of your school friends and family here, and then we’ll invite all of your Children’s Home friends to a restaurant in Tampa. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” I said, fully expecting something would go wrong the way it always did.

On Friday, November 21, we had a dinner party at our house to celebrate my twelfth birthday. Guests included two girls in our neighborhood, Tabitha and Jillian; Gay’s father, Grampy Weisman; the Hudsons and Luke, who was having an overnight visit with them; and a few other family friends. Gay somehow knew that I had never recovered my dolls from Mrs. Moss and gave me a doll designed to look like me. It came with an overalls outfit and a nightgown along with matching clothes in my size. Even though I really was too old for a doll, I was glad to have it. I had chosen the dinner menu, so I liked everything—especially the ice-cream cake.

Early the next morning the phone rang. Gay came into the kitchen with a peculiar expression on her face. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

I expected that somebody at the cottage had flipped out and ruined the day for everyone. “So is the party off?” I asked.

“Not all news is bad news,” Gay said. “That was the director of the Dave Thomas Foundation for Adoption inviting us to Busch Gardens for an event later today. She also said we could bring other adoptive families with us.”

Daphne, who was now living with her family full-time, was coming to my party, so I asked if her family could be included.

“I already invited them.”

During the long drive I asked the Courters, “How did you hear about me since you live so far from Tampa?”

“We have some friends from there—in fact, you’ll meet them at Busch Gardens today,” Phil said. “They handed us Hillsborough County’s children-in-waiting directory, which had your picture with Luke.”

“Phil, remember how it had a clever poem and picture on the cover that was signed by someone named Ashley?”

“And you thought it might be the Ashley whose photo was inside,” he continued.

“Were there two couples and two houses in the drawing?”

I asked.

“Yes!” Gay said. She turned to Phil. “I told you it was
our
Ashley!”

“Gay fell in love with you then,” Phil said, “but she’s a sucker for sappy poems.”

So I
had
won the contest! And the Courters had seen it! What if Mr. Irvin hadn’t talked me into going to the photo shoot that day? Maybe my luck really was turning and this would be my best birthday ever.

All the kids from Lykes, as well as some of my friends from other cottages, met us at a buffet restaurant. Gay had ordered a cake decorated in the autumn colors I had decided were my favorites. I showed off my twin doll and received a giant card signed by all the cottage residents. Next, it was off to Busch Gardens with Daphne’s family and the Paines—the people who first had told the Courters about me.

“Did you know that Dave Thomas was adopted?” Phil asked me. “That’s why he wants every child to find a home.”

At the pavilion Mr. Thomas was about to receive a donation for the foundation in the form of a giant cardboard check. As a photographer positioned everyone for the best angle, the foundation’s director pushed me forward. “Go stand next to Dave. You are what this is all about,” she said.