At Home on Ladybug Farm Page 25

  “Lori, did he say anything, anything at all that might give you an idea where he might be going?” Bridget insisted.

  Lori shook her head helplessly. “We had a fight. It was a stupid fight. But we’re always fighting. Mom, I’m so sorry!”

  Cici put her arm around her shoulders in a brief squeeze. “It’s not your fault, honey. No one thinks that.”

  Lindsay said, “We should check the highway one more time. And one of us should go to Charlottesville, to start asking questions there. I’ve got some photographs of him in my digital camera. All I have to do is run them off on the computer—”

  “We can’t do this by ourselves. We have to call the sheriff.”

  Bridget nodded in agreement. “We should call Carrie.” She looked anxiously at her watch. “It’s almost three o’clock.”

  “You don’t suppose he overheard something, do you?”

  Lori drew a deep breath. “Mom,” she said, “there’s something I think you ought to know.”

  And then, from behind them, Noah said, “What’re ya’ll looking for?”

  With a cry, they rushed him. He was dusty and sweaty and his battered sneakers had left muddy footprints across the floor. Lindsay grabbed his shoulders and looked for a moment as though she would shake him, but embraced him instead. When she released him she had to turn away quickly and wipe the tears with both hands before he could notice.

  Bridget took Lindsay’s place, hugging him. “Where have you been? You scared us to death!”

  Lori said, “We’ve been looking everywhere!”

  “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?” Cici demanded, as she pulled him away from Bridget and hugged him hard.

  Noah looked embarrassed by all the attention, but, for the first time, also a little pleased. He shrugged away uncomfortably. “I had some stuff to take care of,” he said. “Didn’t mean to cause all this fuss.”

  Lori stood with her hands on her hips, scowling at him. “Well, you did. What have you been up to, anyway? We thought you’d run away!”

  He looked from her to the others, all of them gathered around looking anxious and relieved and waiting for him to say something. Ida Mae came in from the kitchen silently, sweeping up his muddy footprints, but even she had an obvious ear cocked toward the conversation. Noah shuffled his feet, looked at the ground. Then he looked from one to the other of them reluctantly. “I thought about it. Running away, I mean. Figured it would be for the best. But then I got to thinking, what kind of jerk would walk out on a bunch of women in trouble, all by yourselves like you are . . .” Just then, he flicked a quick glance toward Lori, who looked surprised. “So here.” He dug into his pocket and produced a roll of bills, which he presented to Lindsay. “Here’s what I owe you for the ticket, plus some extra. There’ll be more,” he promised. “But that’s all I could raise today.”

  Lindsay took the money, regarding it as though it had sacred powers. She looked up at him in confusion. “But—how . . . ?”

  “I sold some stuff,” he replied with a shrug. “That fancy iPod was nice, but I got too much to do to be fooling with it.” There was a small sound of protest from Bridget, but he went on. “And Jonesie gave me twenty-five dollars apiece for some of my paintings,” he added with an unmistakable note of pride. “He thinks he can sell them to tourists out of his store. He said that job of his is still open, too, but I’ve got to have your permission before he’ll hire me.” He was speaking faster now. “Two afternoons and a half day on Saturday, unloading trucks and stocking shelves. I turn sixteen in six months, and I can get a legal license, so getting back and forth to work won’t be a problem and I can keep up with my chores here and my schoolwork, too. And he said he’ll give me a discount on hardware—I had to talk him into that one, though—which I figure we’re gonna need, rebuilding the barn. It’s gonna take a while,” he admitted, “but I found a place that sells salvage lumber, and we should be able to get her back up again for a couple of thousand if we do all the work ourselves.”

  Cici had her hand at her mouth and was blinking hard. Lindsay’s eyes were lowered; she was looking much too intently at the roll of money in her hand.

  “No point in carrying on so,” Noah went on, but his brows drew together sharply to hide his distress, and it was with obvious determination that he added, “I figured it was only right I should pay for the barn since”—he squared his shoulders—“it was on the account of me that it burned down.”

  All the women stared at him, but he did not flinch.

  “I was smoking behind the barn,” he said. “I know I told you I wouldn’t and it was wrong, and I ain’t gonna do it again, and I’m gonna work until every last nail is paid for and that’s a promise. If you want me to, that is,” he added, and for the first time he let his anxiety show. “If you’ll let me stay.”

  “Oh, Noah,” Bridget said fervently, “we want you to stay more than anything else in the world.”

  “This is your home for as long as you want it,” Cici assured him. “That’s a promise.”

  Lindsay, for a moment, didn’t seem to be able to say anything at all. She simply stared at the roll of bills clutched in her hand. At last she managed, “Noah, you didn’t start that fire. The fire marshal said it was overheated wiring.”

  For a moment relief flashed in his eyes, and his shoulders sagged visibly. Then he stiffened with determination. “I still want to pay my share.”

  Lindsay said, with an effort, “Noah, we need to talk about something.”

  His shoulders sagged again. “I know you’re mad at me,” he said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to kick me out.”

  She was shaking her head. “No. It’s not that. I don’t want to kick you out. I want you to stay. I want it so badly that—”

  Outside in the yard a car door slammed, and Rebel began his raucous barking. Lori rushed to the window. “It’s the social workers again,” she reported. “Only there’s a different one this time.” She rushed to the door. “I’ll get Rebel.”

  Noah looked at them in confusion. “What’re they doing here again? Did ya’ll call them to find me?”

  Cici, Bridget, and Lindsay exchanged a desperate, helpless look. They could hear Lori outside, greeting the visitors and shouting Rebel away. Ida Mae went to the door.

  Lindsay forcefully relaxed her features, and it was as though the very act of doing so forced a measure of calm to steal over her. “Noah,” she said, laying a hand lightly upon his arm, “hang around for a minute, will you? There’s someone we want you to meet.”

  Ida Mae escorted the two women inside. Carrie looked nervous, although she greeted them with her usual grace. Mandy looked frail and strained and timid, with her dark eyes and her black sweater and her hands clutching her purse. She looked around the big house, with its cobwebs and its dusty chandelier, as though she had never seen anything so fine.

  “Oh my,” she said softly. “What a lovely home.”

  Then her gaze fell on Noah, and her expression softened. For a moment, she was almost beautiful. “Hello, Noah,” she said.

  Lindsay’s voice was strong and pleasant as she said, “Noah, you remember Miss Lincoln from the Department of Family and Children’s Services.” Only the slightest hesitation before she added, “And this is—”

  But Noah stepped forward. “I know who you are,” he said, and everyone stared at him. “You’re another do-gooder that thinks they know what’s best for me. Well, I’ll answer all your stupid questions and I’ll take all your tests, and I’ll use my manners and speak good English, if that’s what it takes. But if you really want to know what’s in the best interest of the child”—he slid a glance toward Lori, who had just come in the front door—“it seems to me the person to ask would be the child hisself. I mean, himself. And since I’m him—I mean, he—I can save you some time. I’m doing just fine where I’m at. Why do you want to mess with it?”

  For a moment everyone seemed too stunned to react. And then Mandy smile
d slowly. “Well now,” she said, “that does seem like a foolish thing to do, doesn’t it? But I wonder if you wouldn’t mind sitting down and talking with me for a while, anyway. I’ll try not to ask too many stupid questions.”

  She glanced around, and there seemed to be a note of pleading in her eyes as she said, “Is there somewhere we could be alone—just for a little while?”

  Lindsay began, “Um, we really haven’t had a chance to talk about our meeting this morning . . .”

  Mandy repeated, “Alone? Please?”

  “Yes, of course.” Bridget was the one to move. She showed Mandy to the living room. Noah accompanied them with an air of resolute determination, and Bridget pulled the pocket doors closed behind her as she left.

  Lori folded her arms across her chest with a smug smile. “I’m the one who taught him to stand up for himself like that. He did pretty well, didn’t he?” Then her smile faded. “I know I probably should have told you about”—she cast a wary glance at Carrie—“the other thing, but I promised I wouldn’t. And it seemed important to keep my word.”

  “It’s always important to keep your word,” Cici assured her. But even as she spoke to Lori her attention was on Carrie. “You did the right thing. Why don’t you go get a sandwich or something? You must be starved.”

  “I don’t mind if I do. Ida Mae, is there any of that pie left from yesterday? Can you believe that kid walked all the way to town and back?”

  “I’ll bring out some coffee,” Ida Mae said, following Lori to the kitchen. “And some pie, if she leaves any.”

  Cici gestured toward the front door as they departed, and the women moved silently out to the porch.

  “Carrie,” Lindsay said, keeping her voice low but urgent, “we didn’t get a chance to tell Noah about his mother. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in there with them?” Bridget added, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

  “Has something happened?” Cici asked. “She seemed different from when we left her.”

  Carrie gave a slow uncertain shake of her head. “I don’t know. We had a long talk on the way out here. She didn’t seem as sure about her decision as she was before. She asked a lot of questions. But there are so many emotions involved. This is the first time she’s seen her son in fifteen years and . . .” Again she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Is there anything we should be doing?” Lindsay asked.

  Carrie replied simply, “Wait.”

  And so they sat on the porch, and waited. They waited for over an hour, their ears tuned to any sound from the other side of the screen door. Ida Mae brought a tray with coffee and strawberry pie. They sipped the coffee but mostly just pushed the pie around on their plates. They didn’t talk much. When they heard the pocket doors to the living room slide open, they all stood and hurried inside.

  Mandy paused outside the living room door. “Well, Noah,” she said, and extended her hand, “you’re a nice young man. Really nice. It was good to meet you.”

  He replied, “Yes, ma’am. Likewise.” And he actually shook her hand. Then he said, “So. Do you think I’ll be staying here, or what?”

  She hesitated before answering, for what seemed like an eternity. The smile she gave him trembled slightly at one corner, but she said, “I don’t see why not.”

  The grin that broke across Noah’s face seemed to be a thing of itself, unrestrained and alive. He struggled to get it under control but was not entirely successful. “That’s good,” he said simply, “’cause I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “Good-bye, Noah,” Mandy said softly.

  He replied nonchalantly, “Bye, ma’am.” Then he turned toward the kitchen.

  Lori, on her way upstairs, had come around the corner in time to hear the verdict. As she came abreast of Noah she winked at him and held up her hand for a high five. He slapped it, sharing a grin, and they passed without speaking.

  As Mandy started to move toward them, Lindsay’s hand was clamped down so hard on Bridget’s that she couldn’t feel her own fingers. She let go, and made herself breathe, and tried to flex her fingers. Her mouth was too dry to speak.

  Carrie was the first to move forward, and she went to put her arm around Mandy’s shoulders in sympathy. “So you’ve made your decision,” she said gently.

  Now that Noah was gone, Mandy let go of the forced smile, the brave shoulders, the cheerful eyes. Her demeanor sagged and she looked tired, and haggard, and heavy with grief. But she also looked peaceful.

  “I remember being fifteen,” she said, and a faint wistful expression crossed her face as she spoke. She looked at Lindsay. “Being carefree, and hopeful, and waking up every day feeling like anything was possible. I wouldn’t take these years from him for anything in the world.”

  Lindsay found her voice. “Do you mean . . .”

  Mandy said, “I didn’t tell him about me. About who I was, I mean. I let him go on thinking I was a social worker. I just wanted to . . . know him a little, you know?” She looked at Carrie for understanding. “I wanted to know that he was okay. I wanted to know who he was turning out to be. I wanted to know about his life. He told me about his drawing, about how he wants to hang his pictures in a fine gallery in Washington, and about his pet deer, and his garden, and what he’s studying in school . . . my, he’s smart isn’t he?” Almost unbidden, a flare of motherly pride came into her eyes. “He told me you’re a good teacher,” she said to Lindsay. And to the others, “He told me a lot of things.”

  Cici said hoarsely. “Does this mean—are you going to leave him with us?”

  They could see her throat constrict as she swallowed. And she replied quietly, “Sometimes a mother has to make hard decisions.”

  Lindsay said, “The things I said to you before . . . they were cruel. I’m sorry.”

  “They were true, though,” Mandy said. “That’s why I didn’t want to hear them, I guess.” And she managed a weary smile. “I know you’re nice people. I knew that from the minute I heard about you, and I knew it more when I met you. That’s why I’m trusting you to raise my child.”

  Lindsay could not make a sound. She simply nodded.

  Mandy glanced at Carrie, then back to the others. “Ms. Lincoln here said you wanted to adopt Noah. I can’t let you do that, not while I’m living. But she said there was a paper I could sign that would put you in charge of him, and make it legal and permanent, and that’s what I’d like to do. If you’d let me come see him from time to time,” she added, “that would be a blessing. And maybe, when he’s older, and we’ve gotten to know each other . . . well.”

  She dropped her eyes, acknowledging the futility of completing that thought, then looked at the three women again. Tears shimmered on her lashes. “I want him to grow up believing in a mother who loved him so much she would die before she hurt him. Please . . .” Her voice broke there. “Help me do that.”

  Ida Mae cleared her throat behind them. “You gonna want any more coffee?”

  The women stepped apart. Mandy turned away to wipe her eyes. Cici said, “Please, will you sit and have some coffee, or pie, or—”

  Mandy shook her head. “No, thanks. I want to start back.” She stopped, her attention caught by the art on the opposite wall. “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “Noah did it.” Lindsay walked with her to the framed drawing of the house, which hung in the center of the display.

  She smiled as she touched the frame, and let her fingers linger. Then her eyes began to wander over the rest of the collection.

  “They’re things we found in the house,” Lindsay explained. “It kind of tells a story.”

  Mandy stopped before the child’s drawing that Lindsay had found in the woodbin, and she tilted her head a little, studying it. “That’s odd,” she said. “That drawing. My grandma had a quilt with something just like it right in the center. She used to wrap me up in it when I spent the night with her, and it smelled so nice. Like home.” She smiled reminiscent
ly. “I haven’t thought about that quilt in years.”

  Ida Mae, who had been passing on her way to the porch to gather up the coffee things, stopped and looked at Mandy. She didn’t just look. She stared. And then she said, in a very odd voice, “Child, who was your granny?”

  “She was a Hodge,” Mandy replied, though her expression was a bit puzzled. “Marilee Hodge.”

  Ida Mae’s expression softened. “Well, I’ll be,” she said. And her gaze traveled to the window, but no one could see what had caught her attention there. She looked back at Mandy and repeated, “I’ll be.”

  Then she walked back to the kitchen, and she forgot the coffee tray.

  The women walked with Mandy to the car, and then Lindsay said suddenly, “Wait.”

  She ran across the yard to the studio, and returned in a moment with a thin square package wrapped in brown paper. She handed it to Mandy. “It’s a painting I did of Noah,” she said simply. “It belongs with you.”

  Mandy hesitated, and then took it carefully. She gazed upon the paper wrapping as though she could see through it, and gentle wonder touched her face. “I—thank you.” She looked up at Lindsay, and repeated, “Thank you.”

  And Lindsay replied quietly, “Thank you.”

  She looked at the other two, and seemed to want to say more. But in the end she simply got into Carrie’s car, and they drove away.

  21

  Mother’s Day

  Two dozen baby chicks were finally transferred from their cozy quarters in the sunroom to the spacious accommodation of a brand-new chicken coop. On one of her increasingly frequent trips to the library, Lori had found plans for a regulation-size henhouse, complete with box nests and a door tall enough to allow for egg collection. Using scrap lumber and a roof made of tin, which they salvaged from the barn fire, it took the five of them less than two days to erect the structure and fence in the chicken yard.