Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie Macomber
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Baxter today was a surprise, and Anne Marie could hardly wait to see the child’s face light up.
The transition from Anne Marie’s home to her grandmother’s had gone smoothly. Anne Marie wished she could say Ellen’s departure had been as straightforward for her. The apartment just wasn’t the same without Ellen; it was still too quiet, too empty. Her life felt that way, too. The child had found a vulnerable space in her heart, and Anne Marie had discovered how much she craved love. She wanted to give it as well as receive it.
Of course, she was in regular touch with Ellen and would continue to be so. She’d already arranged a trip to Woodland Park Zoo for that Saturday. Anne Marie was looking forward to it and she knew Ellen was, too. Dolores needed the break and seemed to appreciate Anne Marie’s interest in the girl.
Ellen’s grandmother was a pitiable woman. She blamed herself for what had become of her two daughters, and all the love in her heart was reserved for her only granddaughter. Dolores lived for Ellen. Since she’d been released from the hospital, Dolores had told Anne Marie that she’d searched for more than a year before she’d found Ellen. Once she did locate the child in the California foster care program, it had taken nearly another year to convince Child Protective Services to grant her custody of the little girl. Ellen had been with her grandmother for three years now, and the older woman had given her the security she so desperately needed.
As Anne Marie headed into the school, with Baxter on his leash, she saw Helen Mayer, the counselor, hurrying toward her.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here,” Helen said. “The woman who answered the phone at the bookstore told me you were on your way.”
“Is something wrong? Is Ellen okay?”
“Please—come into my office.”
With a growing sense of panic, Anne Marie picked up Baxter and followed Helen into the building. She couldn’t imagine what had happened, but all her instincts said it was bad.
The counselor waited until Anne Marie was inside her office, then closed the door and walked slowly to her desk. She sat down and turned to look at Anne Marie.
Tension twisted Anne Marie’s stomach as she lowered herself into a chair. “What is it?” she asked, placing Baxter on the floor near her feet.
“We received word this morning that Dolores Falk died sometime last night.”
Anne Marie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Did…Ellen find her?”
“Apparently she overslept because her grandmother didn’t wake her for school. According to what I learned, she made her own breakfast and decided to let her grandmother sleep. On her way to school she met a neighbor who inquired about Dolores. Ellen explained that her grandmother wasn’t feeling well and that she was still in bed. A short while later, the neighbor went to check on her and when she couldn’t rouse Dolores, she called 911.”
At least the child was spared the trauma of discovering the body. Anne Marie thanked God for that. But this probably meant Ellen didn’t know yet.
“Is she here?” Anne Marie knew how hard Ellen would take the news. Although she dreaded telling her, Anne Marie thought she was the best person to do so. Poor Ellen.
“I’m afraid not,” Helen Mayer said.
Anne Marie barely heard her. “I’ll make arrangements to get her things and bring her home with me.” She wondered if Dolores had made funeral arrangements; she’d have to find out.
After burying Robert, Anne Marie had some experience in such matters. The staff at the funeral home had been both kind and respectful. Anne Marie would like them to handle the arrangements for Dolores, too, if that was possible.
“I don’t think you heard me,” the other woman said. “Ellen isn’t at school.”
Anne Marie stared at her, uncomprehending. “Where is she then?”
Helen Mayer placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “About an hour ago, Child Protective Services took her away.”
The words hardly made sense. “What? What do you mean they took her away?”
“I mean they came to the school, told us Ellen’s grandmother had died and that they had to find a home for her.”
“But…”
Helen Mayer gestured helplessly. “The only other relatives Ellen has are her mother, who has relinquished all parental rights, and her aunt, who is apparently incarcerated.”
Anne Marie was well aware that Ellen had no one else. That was the very reason the child had come to live with her while Dolores was hospitalized.
“She’s been placed in a foster home.”
Anne Marie couldn’t believe it. “Already?”
“Yes. I realize it’s a shock. I tried to contact you but you didn’t answer your cell. The woman at the bookstore said you’d be here soon.”
Anne Marie felt disoriented but she had to focus on Ellen. The girl must be terrified. She had to get to her, reassure her that everything would be all right. “I have the name of the social worker assigned to her. She gave me her business card.”
“What are you going to do?” Helen asked.
“I’ll bring Ellen back to live with me.” There was no question about that.
The counselor sighed with relief. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
Anne Marie was on her feet, ready to take action. She committed half a dozen traffic violations in her rush to get back to the bookstore. She prayed she hadn’t thrown out the social worker’s card. In her agitation she couldn’t even recall the woman’s name.
With Baxter at her heels, Anne Marie ran up the stairs. Heart pounding, she stood in the middle of her kitchen while she tried to remember where she’d put the woman’s card.
Suddenly she remembered. She hurried into her bedroom and jerked open the top drawer of her nightstand. Yes—it was there, and the woman’s name was Evelyn Boyle. She collapsed onto her bed and grabbed the phone.
Her hand trembled as she punched out the number. She listened to an automated system that requested the extension, which Anne Marie dutifully supplied. The phone rang five times before Evelyn’s voice mail came on.
“This is Anne Marie Roche,” she said. “I’m calling about Ellen Falk. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.” She gave three phone numbers—home, work and cell—afraid the woman would give up too easily if she couldn’t reach her on the first try.
The waiting was intolerable.
Anne Marie paced, she cleaned out drawers, then paced some more. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she drove to Dolores’s house. The place was locked up. The neighbor who’d found her said the coroner’s office had already removed the body. No one knew anything about Ellen or where she might be. Anne Marie gave the woman her numbers, desperate to learn whatever she could.
When her cell phone finally did ring, it was after four and Anne Marie nearly ripped it out of her purse in her haste.
“This is Anne Marie Roche,” she said, the words tumbling over each other.
“Anne Marie, this is Evelyn Boyle returning your call.”
“Where’s Ellen?” she cried. The child must be frantic. Anne Marie was close to panic herself. Ellen needed her and Anne Marie needed to be with Ellen.
“It’s unfortunate, but the only thing I could do was place her in a temporary foster home. It’s a short-term solution until I can find a permanent home for her.”
“I’ll take her,” Anne Marie blurted out. “Bring her to me.”
“I wish I could. If you recall, when I visited the