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  CHAPTER 45

  Straining Paint for Watermelon Seeds

  Len hurried down the hall, buttoning his shirt. Rachel should be home by now and he wanted to be the first one she spoke to about…her road trip. As he headed down the stairs, he could hear Olivia speaking to someone in the kitchen.

  “My dad’s getting changed,” said his daughter. “Having said that, if you feel like doing something you could get me a drink. I’m not allowed because of spilling. We keep our drinks in the fridge mostly. That’s because my dad likes cold stuff. One time I snuck the milk out and hid it in the closet so it wouldn’t be so cold but it got all clumped up and smelly and my dad yelled about it.”

  “Olivia, honey, did your dad take you to his office today, to meet some people?” It was Rachel.

  Len paused in the doorway to see Olivia’s head in the fridge. She was hopping from one foot to the other, humming. Rachel stood behind her in jeans and a white shirt, heeled boots, her hair loose and falling down her back. She hadn’t seen him.

  “Sweetie,” Rachel said, placing a hand on the child’s back. “Did you meet a nice man today? And a nice lady? What was her name…Randi? Candy?”

  Len stepped forward. “Tammy.”

  Rachel spun around. There was a quietness, a stillness about her he’d never seen before. She looked at once gratified and serene, but also sorrowful. The corners of her mouth twitched, just a fraction.

  He raised his eyebrows in question—had she seen her daughter?

  Over Olivia’s head, she nodded and mouthed the words “thank you.”

  After settling Olivia on Len’s bed with a plate of apple slices and a DVD, they were alone. Wordlessly, Rachel followed him into the kitchen, kicked off her boots, and hopped onto the counter while he uncorked a bottle of white wine. His day could do with a bit of blurring around the edges and he didn’t doubt hers could as well. As he filled two glasses, she told him about Hannah. About her school, her uniform, her friends, her little turquoise ball, but mostly the air of contentment and joyousness on Hannah’s face.

  They carried their drinks into the living room and settled on the window seat, each leaning against cold window panes, facing each other, feet touching. Suddenly, Rachel sat up taller, pointing across the room. “What’s that?”

  Dr. Foxman’s secretary had arranged for a brand-new wheelchair, a long-term rental, to be delivered to his house. When he’d found it that afternoon on his porch, all gleaming metal, red vinyl, with wheels so clean the white rubber shone, he’d heaved it inside, hoping the neighbors hadn’t seen it, and given it a good shove, just hard enough to send it sailing into the living room wall, where it would remain until Len was ready to give in. Or, if he never felt ready, until his depreciating sack of traitorous cells eradicated any other option.

  “I don’t need it,” he said. “Not yet.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then picked up his hand and kissed it. “I’ve been wanting to ask you all day—why now?” she asked. “After all my begging and pleading—why did you send me to Hannah now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I finally understood that until you saw for yourself that Hannah was safe, happy, you could never open yourself up to…other things. That it was worth the risk.”

  “And what about you?” she asked. “This was as big a day for you.”

  He sipped from his drink, then wrapped his arms around his bent knees, cupping the glass with both hands, as if for warmth. He stared into the liquid. Nothing about his day had wound up as he’d intended. Had it turned out as planned, he and Olivia would have been touring the Peytons’ condo that very minute. “A big day it was.”

  “I’ve been doing some thinking,” she said. “I know I have no right to request this, and I know it’s probably far too late, but I was wondering if maybe a codicil to your agreement could be added, something that ensures that I can still see Olivia once—”

  Len looked up. “There is no agreement.”

  “But I thought…”

  “I couldn’t do it. There we were in my office, Tammy pulled out coloring books for Olivia. Philip brought her a real paintbrush, for painting houses, and asked Olivia if she’d like to come over and paint a whole wall at their condo.”

  Rachel smiled. “I’ll bet Olivia was into that.”

  “She said she’d only do it if the paint was watermelon color. Then she told them the paint didn’t have to smell like actual watermelons and it should be seedless because she hates the seeds. Apparently, even in paint.” Len stroked the side of his glass with his thumb. “So there we were talking about straining paint for watermelon seeds—and I believe this couple would have actually done it…”

  “What? Paint their walls the color of watermelon, or strain their bucket of paint?”

  “Both.”

  Rachel moved closer until their knees were touching. “So, what then?”

  He stared at her for a long time, unsure how to begin. How do you tell someone that the only way you can possibly leave this world is if she takes on your daughter? Not only takes her on, but wants to take her so badly it hurts?

  He stared into Rachel’s eyes, partially curtained by loose curls. If he couldn’t have this woman for a lifetime, Jesus, please let Olivia have her. He’d give what remained of his life to let his daughter have Rachel. Finally, he spoke. “Without a doubt, I am the worst dying parent on the planet. I had a lovely, idyllic situation for my daughter. Tammy and Philip were perfectly appropriate. They’d have done a great, no, a terrific job with her.”

  “But?”

  “But neither one of them is you.”

  She looked as if she’d been slapped. Her face blanched and she stiffened. “But you never said…”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do it.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “Because you might have said yes for the wrong reason. I decided I’d never leave her that way—with someone I had to ask, persuade.”

  “Len…”

  “And I’m still not asking. But you wanted to know why and I guess,” he paused, looking down and laughing, “well, I guess I decided to be like you for once. Totally honest. Whatever happens now, if you decided to walk out of here this moment and never—”

  “Len.” She set her drink down on a nearby table and did the same with his. Crawling closer, she pushed him back on the seat cushion until she was lying on his chest, her hair falling forward. “Len. I don’t want to be Olivia’s mother.” Her tears spilled onto his cheeks. “I need to be.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Not as Much as Rats

  Take time to celebrate small moments. When you are old and gray, you will realize these snippets of time were what mattered most.

  —RACHEL BERMAN, Perfect Parent magazine

  Linda Haas slid her black glasses down her nose Tuesday morning. “I’m sorry, Rachel. But the news is not good.” She motioned toward the reams of spreadsheets on Rachel’s desk. “Our accounts payables are multiplying each month. They’re astronomical.” She folded her arms. “I don’t know what to tell our creditors.”

  Rachel stared at the figures. “Maybe we could speak to the bank again?”

  “We’re way past that. Unless you’ve got a revival plan that can wow them, they’re not going to be too patient. I’m afraid you’ve got two choices, both lousy ones. Shut down and sell off the assets, or lay off staff. Fast.”

  Rachel remained silent. She took a long, deep breath and pulled out a red pen. “Okay. Let’s go through the names together. We’ll make the announcements next Monday. I need time to prepare.”

  Brad wiggled his finger in some sort of Sweeting’s Pets salute to the hamster he’d just placed into a cardboard animal transport box. He’d sworn to Rachel it was the very same teddy-bear hamster Olivia had been holding to her face the night Rachel and Piper lost her at the bowling alley.

  “So you say it’s a…a boy hamster?” she asked.

  “He’s a buck alright.”

  “And the feeding and care instructions are inside
the bag?”

  “Yup. It’s all there. Our card, too. You call if you need any more info.”

  “How old would you say it—he—is? Olivia’s already had one rodent die this year, I just want to be sure this one will last awhile.”

  Brad closed one eye and stared at the cardboard box as if hoping the hamster inside would help him out. “He’s a coupla months, I guess. Maybe four. But he’ll live another two and a half years or more.”

  She paid and arranged all three Sweeting’s Pets paper bags along her forearms. The heaviest sack held the hamster habitat. The bag next to it contained the all-important hamster food, and the lightest bag held the male lead in this production, the little buck himself.

  “So this is for that little girl who got lost that day? When we had the Code Adam?”

  Rachel nodded, smiling.

  “I remember that kid. She was pretty cool.”

  She felt her chest swell. “Yeah. She is.”

  “You should call him Adam.”

  “Who?”

  “The hamster.”

  “Oh. Maybe. We’ll probably just let Olivia name him.”

  Rachel turned to leave. As she neared the doorway, Brad said softly, “Your daughter’s going to love this.”

  She stopped and smiled. “Yes. She is.”

  Propped against the wall, Len stretched out his legs and sighed. The guest room, having been stripped of its lacy curtains and yellow-tulip duvet, and painted with watermelon-colored paint—seed-less—was now Olivia’s room. The week prior, Len and his daughter had officially moved in, partially so Rachel could help shoulder Len’s workload at home, partially to make Olivia’s ultimate transition smoother. But mostly because Rachel wanted them close.

  “Is it three forty-five yet?” asked Len with a yawn. The poor guy could use some rest. Since the moment, two hours prior, that Rachel arrived with her load, she and Len had been sitting on the floor hunched over the setting up of the habitat, a perplexing achievement that had included snapping a plastic tunnel in two, dumping cedar shavings down the heating vent, and losing the buck himself for about twenty-five minutes after he chewed his way through his ventilated carton.

  “Any minute now. Remember, you promised to nap after she settles.”

  He nudged her leg with his toe. “I promised to go to bed. No one said anything about napping.”

  Smirking, she threw a yogurt treat, hitting him in the stomach. As he dug it out of his shirt and tossed it back, the front door slammed.

  “Olivia? Janie? Dustin? Come up here, Rachel has something to show you,” Len called out, motioning for Rachel to stand in front of the habitat so Olivia wouldn’t see it right away. Rachel couldn’t wait to see the look on the child’s face.

  Olivia and Dustin tore up the stairs and into the room. “Where’s Janie?” asked Len.

  Dustin shrugged. “She went straight to her room. She’s in another mood.”

  Rachel turned to face Olivia and bent down, smiling. “Sweetie, you like hamsters a lot, don’t you?”

  Olivia shrugged. “Not as much as rats. Rats come when you call them and know when something is funny.”

  “But if you could have a hamster of your very own…” Rachel said.

  “I’d cry and trade him in for a rat. Because I actually want to tell a rat a joke and see if he can laugh. I really want a rat. At the end of the day.”

  Len said, “Assume there are no rats, the pet store is all out—”

  Olivia thought about this. “Then I’d go to another pet store.”

  “All the pet stores, everywhere, are all out of rats,” Rachel said, feeling her blood pressure rise. “The only pets left are hamsters.”

  The child scrunched her mouth to the left. “No puppies?”

  Len looked at Rachel and shrugged. She stood up straight, pushed her hair behind her ears, and stepped away from the cage. “Well, this is for you. It’s the teddy-bear hamster from the mall that day.”

  Olivia’s eyes tripled in size. “That hamster?” She lunged forward and skidded down to the carpet on her knees, fingers tapping her chest. “I love that hamster!”

  Dustin moved closer. “I thought you only love rats.”

  “Dustin,” warned Rachel.

  Olivia ran her hands along the labyrinth and bounced up and down with excitement. “Did you access to water him?”

  “We gave him access to water, yes.” Len pointed to the water bottle he’d wrestled into position.

  “Can I hug him?”

  Rachel laughed. “Of course you can. He’s yours now.”

  Olivia beamed at Rachel, then at Dustin. She turned back to the hamster and let out a small squeak. Then she threw her body around the habitat, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against the plastic. “I love you, Jojo,” she whispered.

  “No, Olivia.” Rachel pulled the child off the maze of tunnels and rubbed her arms. “You can take him out and hug him for real this time. No pet store rules here.”

  CHAPTER 47

  With Silver Buttons All Down Her Back

  Friday at school, Olivia stared at the girls with the skipping rope. Samantha and Jada swung the pink rope and sang “Miss Mary Mack” while Callie Corbin jumped, her pretty blond braid slapping her in the back. The faster the girls turned, the faster Callie Corbin jumped.

  Dropping her stick, which she’d been using to draw rodents in the sand, Olivia moved closer to the girls, mesmerized by the rhythm of the rope smacking against the pavement. Bits of sharp gravel flicked up from under Callie Corbin’s feet and struck Olivia’s bare shins like needles. Some tumbled down into her boots. She’d dressed extra special for class pictures today, in a white blouse that buttoned up the back and navy skirt that her dad said made her look like a proper young lady. Olivia didn’t care much about looking like a lady. All she knew was that the skirt made her legs itch and she was never wearing it again, not ever.

  The class wasn’t supposed to get filthy dirty at lunchtime, the teacher said, since pictures were right after. So far, Olivia thought, she looked pretty good. She stayed off the grass so she wouldn’t forget and roll down the hill. Her knees got kind of dusted-up from the sand but the rocks in her boots didn’t count, since no one else knew they were there.

  Olivia had never skipped before. She once begged her dad to buy her a purple skipping rope, but when she brought it to school the next day, none of the girls would hold it for her. When she tried again next recess, a boy yanked it out of her hands and used it to swing from the big tree behind the jungle gym. It snapped in half on his very first try.

  Sidling up beside Samantha, Olivia waited until Callie Corbin jumped out before getting brave enough to ask, in the smallest of voices, “Can I have a turn?”

  Jada pretended to retch into her hand, while Samantha laughed. Callie Corbin turned her back and grabbed the rope before walking away. “Get lost, Bean,” she said. “We don’t play with geeks who dress like librarians.” She nodded to her friends. “Come on girls, let’s find a better spot to skip.”

  Olivia trudged back to her stick and dropped down into the sand, this time settling cross-legged, her skirt flopped all over the dirt. She picked up the twig and started to draw a guinea pig, which was actually a rodent—not a pig, like some people thought. The guinea pig’s face got messed up by a rock and she stomped the whole thing out with her boots.

  “Olivia?” It was Callie Corbin wearing a big smile. “We’ve changed our minds. We’ve decided, since you look so nice today, since it’s picture day, since we feel bad for not letting you skip, that we’d like to invite you to our party this weekend.”

  Olivia dropped the stick and gaped. “Me?”

  “Sure,” said Samantha, unzipping her hoodie and tying it around her waist. “We want you to be our friend.”

  Olivia stood up, her heart pounding with excitement. She smiled so wide her bottom lip cracked. She tasted blood. “You want to be friends with me?”

  Callie Corbin backed away, still showing her teet
h. “You know where I live?”

  “Next to that apartment building?” Olivia asked. “In the big white house?”

  Callie Corbin nodded. “That’s right.”

  “What are you doing here anyway?” asked Jada.

  “I don’t know,” said Olivia, “drawing my new hamster.” She pointed at her earlier sand sketch. “See, this is his nose…”

  “Nice,” Samantha said, laughing.

  “Be at my house tomorrow around four,” said Callie. “We’ll play in my fort out back.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Informed Consent

  Please, Daddy!” Olivia hopped from foot to foot, shaking her hands. “I have to go! They invited me—Jada, Samantha, and Callie Corbin. They’re my new best friends.”

  Len could scarcely believe it. Could it be that his daughter was finally making friends?

  “Is it almost Saturday, Dad? Is it? Is it?” The child’s eyes danced with what was, to her, the invitation of a lifetime.

  Rachel scraped cookies from a metal tray onto a plate. Chocolate chip. Olivia’s favorite. “It’s still Friday, sweetie. Is Callie’s mother going to be home?”

  Olivia screwed up her mouth and reached for a warm cookie. “I’m not going there to play with her mother…”

  Len got up from the kitchen table, blood rushing to his head. Turning away from Rachel so she wouldn’t see, he grabbed hold of the table’s edge and breathed through the dizziness. Once steady, composed, he turned around and reached for an overbaked cookie for himself.

  Rachel’s eyes were on him. “Next time ask me,” she said softly before nodding to the wheelchair in the corner. “Or use the chair.”

  “I don’t need the chair.”

  “I do!” Olivia trotted across the room and plunked herself onto the vinyl seat, wheeling herself into the cupboards, the wall. “Please can I go to Callie Corbin’s?”

  “These girls picked on you last year, didn’t they?” Len asked.

  “But now they’re my best friends,” Olivia argued. “They said I looked nice for picture day and then actually said they wished I played skipping with them. They even said my hamster drawing was good.”