Authors: Olivia Lynde
Greg's brow clears a bit. "Ah, yes!
Four years ago, was it not?"
"Actually," Seth contradicts
with a slight edge, "it was five years ago, Mr. Anderson."
My foster gives him a puzzled look.
"Hmm... yes, that might be right." He shrugs apologetically. "The
truth is that I'm awful with dates. But no, there was another reason why your
name seemed so familiar... Ah, yes! You are that boy who was Jessica's first
boyfriend. I remember you used to come by the house quite often looking for her."
He chuckles. "My daughter used to wait on pins and needles for your
arrival and would jump to answer the door the moment the bell rang. I thought
she was rather young at the time to have a boyfriend, but oh, well... She
insisted that it wasn't anything serious and didn't even want to introduce you
to me and her mother. How interesting that we should finally meet now."
Seth's features have turned to granite,
except for that tiny facial muscle leaping rhythmically above his jaw. Ooh,
he's furious. "First of all, Mr. Anderson, you should know that until five
years ago I lived in this house with my Grandma. And with a girl who had been fostered
to Grandma." Seth holds Greg's gaze very firmly. "That girl was
Summer."
My foster assumes a surprised expression
and shoots me an inquiring glance. "I wasn't aware of that."
Seth continues somberly, "When Grams
died and social services took Summer away, we vowed to keep in touch. Summer
was supposed to write me a letter with her new contact information." Pinning
Greg's mildly interested gaze, Seth informs him grimly, "My visits to your
house five years ago were
not
because of your daughter Jessica—but
because I was waiting for word from Summer. She'd left town before this house
was sold, so she'd have written to me at this address. Jessica promised to be
on the lookout for any letters for me."
I see realization starting to dawn in
Greg's eyes even as a chilling thread of anger starts to underline Seth's words.
"Jessica told me that Summer never sent any letters. She bare-faced lied,
Mr. Anderson. Summer wrote me 365 letters before giving up when she didn't hear
back from me in over a year. Your daughter deliberately kept Summer's letters
from me, and we only found out about this two days ago when Summer recovered
the letters from Jessica's room."
My foster has paled noticeably. In a
quiet voice, he asks me, "Are those letters that important something that Jessica
kept insisting that you had stolen from her?"
"Yes," I confirm. "But I
didn't steal them; they were never Jessica's in the first place."
Greg sighs heavily.
Seth addresses him again. "Mr.
Anderson, Summer and I have always been very close. Five years ago, when we
thought that the other had betrayed our promise to keep in touch... it was very
painful for both of us." Fiercely, he adds, "And you should know that
I was
never
Jessica's boyfriend: not five years ago, not at any other
time. If Jessica ever told you differently, she straight-out lied—again."
My foster pales further and has to look
away from Seth's blazing eyes.
Just then the door opens, and Jessica enters.
On seeing us, she adopts an air of innocent confusion. Of course, Louise must
have gone and told her about our arrival.
When Jessica focuses on me, her
perplexed expression wavers, flashing with shock quickly followed by loathing
before she recovers her composure.
"I didn't know there was anyone in
here!" she exclaims sweetly. Then, smiling hugely at
my boyfriend
:
"Hey, Seth! You should've told me that you were here."
His eyes have iced over. "Why? I'm
not here for you." He deliberately moves our joined hands a bit, thus
drawing Jessica's attention to them.
Her mask crumbles again, revealing ugly
rage. I meet her incensed glower without fear even as I instinctively press
myself into Seth's side—though with the way we're sitting, we're practically
glued together already. Jessica notes that movement as well, and her expression
darkens further.
Greg, having obviously seen through Jessica's
ploy, tells her furiously, "You have no business coming in here, young
lady! Leave this room and leave us to our conversation!"
"But Daddy!..." she protests,
outraged.
Yet contrary to norm, her father is
seemingly not in the mood to pander to her whims just now. The things he's seen
and learned about his little princess in the past 24 hours must have shaken him
hard. He jumps to his feet and stares at her with true threat.
"I told you to leave us to our conversation!
Did you hear me say that? Did you?!" His enraged voice reverberates inside
the room.
"Yes," she answers, cowed.
"Then leave here
now
! I will
speak to you later."
Jessica whirls around and strides out of
the room, slamming the door behind her. Her father stands frozen, just looking
at the closed door for long moments. Then he turns back to us and retakes his
seat in the armchair.
"I apologize for the
interruption," he tells us in a tired tone.
Seth says though gritted teeth,
"Summer is now my girlfriend, and after what just happened, I think you'll
admit too that there'll be trouble with Jessica because of this. She's already
been making life in this house very difficult for Summer. Yesterday, when she
destroyed all of Summer's things—it was just one episode in the war of
attrition she's been carrying against my girl from the very start."
My foster nods in sad agreement. Well! So
he wasn't as completely oblivious to what's been happening in his house as he
seemed to be. Most likely, he just decided to ignore it all because that was
easiest for him, I conclude with contempt.
Seth looks at Greg with steadfast
purpose. "That was Jessica's revenge just because Summer took back her
letters. I don't know what she'll try to do next, but I don't feel comfortable thinking
that Summer has to sleep under the same roof as your daughter—especially when
she can't even lock her door for protection."
"We could install a lock," the
foster suggests, surprising me.
Seth raises an incredulous eyebrow at
the blithe offer. "That'd be like putting a band-aid over a gunshot wound,
Mr. Anderson. It won't solve the actual problem here."
The foster sighs again. "So what do
you propose that we should do instead, Mr. Lewis?"
Unflinching resolve radiates from Seth's
expression. "I want to take responsibility for Summer. We've talked things
through, and we'd like to move in together. But I want to ask you to stay on
officially as her foster parent until August."
I stare at Seth in complete awe. Heavens,
he sounds and looks so confident, so self-possessed! He has such a commanding
personality that, standing next to him, even Greg—this allegedly brilliant,
prominent doctor—seems... well, feeble.
Meanwhile, my foster's expression
battles between astonishment and outrage. "Are you asking me to permit a
sixteen-year-old girl who has been placed in my care by the State to move in
with her older boyfriend?" He turns to me: "Summer, are you out of
your mind?"
I tighten my grip on Seth's hand and
answer Greg warily, "Seth and I think this is the best solution."
My boy retains his cool, but his voice turns
cutting: "The fact of the matter, Mr. Anderson, is that Summer can't stay
in your house anymore. You know that Jessica would make her life hell. And
Summer doesn't deserve more unhappiness; she's already gone through more pain
and grief than anyone should have to!"
Greg makes a visible effort to calm
down. At length, he proposes quietly, "If Summer truly can't live under my
roof any longer, then perhaps she should go back to the State."
I recoil from the blow, and Seth's
expression hardens forbiddingly. "Mr. Anderson, this is Summer's seventeenth
foster home in five years. Rockford High is her eighth school in that time. And
there's less than six weeks to go until the end of the school year. In this
situation, you're actually considering to put Summer through the turmoil of
moving again and changing schools?" His voice is like a blast of frost and
ice; even my skin breaks out in goose bumps. Greg flinches.
"Mr. Anderson, the truth is you
owe
us," my boy continues forcefully, and the foster's eyes widen in surprise.
"Because of your daughter, Summer and I have already lost five years
together. So because of your daughter, you owe us for the harm she caused. Most
of all, you owe Summer, who you brought into your home, not to let her be
mentally abused in this house or kicked out because your daughter is a
vindictive witch."
Greg's eyes take on an intense glitter.
"How do I know that you can be trusted with Summer?"
And oh my God—I almost collapse in
relief at hearing this question. He's going to give in! He's going to let me go
with Seth! I am now gripping Seth so anxiously that I'm probably hurting him,
but he just brings our joined hands to his lap and starts to caress the back of
my hand with his free palm.
"Mr. Anderson, I've loved Summer
since she was five years old." Hearing the fiercely spoken avowal, my
foster and I both inhale audibly. "I can absolutely be trusted with her."
Greg silently holds Seth's gaze for one
interminable minute. Finally he nods, apparently satisfied with whatever he's
seen in his eyes. Then he moves his gaze to me. "Summer, are you fully
certain about your decision to leave my house with your boyfriend?"
"I am," I whisper. Then I say
it louder, so there's no doubt about my feelings on the matter: "I want to
be with Seth." And that is God's honest truth.
My foster studies me for several endless
moments.
Finally he tells us stiffly, "All
right. If that is what the two of you wish to do, then have it your way. However,
this agreement only applies strictly until school ends for the year—and no
further. In the meantime, Summer, if your social worker comes visiting, I will
contact you on your cell and you will need to meet her."
Fat chance of that happening! My local
caseworker works, apparently, at this huge agency in Grand Rapids, and she's deluged
with more case files than even "three super-competent super–social workers"
could hope to manage (according to her). She rescheduled four times before she
finally managed to drag herself to Rockford this week, to meet me for the first
time—for all of five minutes. I really doubt I'll be seeing her again anytime
soon.
So I offer a calm nod in answer to
Greg's stipulation while all this time my heart is practically leaping out of
my chest, caught in a whirl of abandoned elation.
Seth, too, doesn't show any outward
reaction. "That's fair, Mr. Anderson. Thank you."
Greg shakes his head, seeming
overwhelmed by the entire situation. "I cannot believe I am agreeing to
this. I do hope you kids know what you are getting yourselves into, deciding to
live together." Then, his expression darkening abruptly, he looks Seth
straight in the eye. "I realize that Summer is over the age of consent,
but I would like to make it utterly clear that I do not, under any
circumstances, want to hear about her becoming pregnant at sixteen. If that should
happen, you will answer to me, young man, and I assure you that you won't like
it. So the two of you had better take precautions!"
I am struck mute by Greg's words, but
Seth doesn't hesitate in his answer. "We'll be careful. Right now, we're
still too young to have a baby."
I stare at him, taken aback. He's
thought about this?!
Good heavens, I'm naive! Of course he's
thought about this. Obviously.
I panic. Oh, lordy, how soon does he
expect us to make love? I don't think I'm ready yet! Am I ready? No, I don't
think so. I love Seth and trust him with my life, but I'm scared at the thought
of becoming physically intimate with him. Plus, he's been with so many girls;
what if I can't satisfy him?!
Through my veil of anxiety, I notice
Greg taking out with his wallet. "I will advance you, say, 400 dollars for
next month's living costs for Summer," he suggests. "If it isn't
enough, then we can—"
Beside me, Seth has turned to stone.
"Mr. Anderson," he grits out. "I don't expect or want your
money. I said I'd take responsibility for Summer and I meant it."
My foster looks baffled. "But how
do you plan on supporting her, Mr. Lewis? You are still in high school yourself,
after all."
"I've been supporting myself for
five years," my boy replies proudly. "I'm more than capable of taking
care of my girl too."
Greg shrugs, bemused. "All right,
but if you should change your mind—"
"I won't," Seth interrupts him
decisively, starting to rise to his feet and pulling me up with him. He
releases me to give my foster a brief handshake, after which he immediately
grabs my hand again.
"We'll be leaving now. We've
already taken up too much of your time. Thank you again, Mr. Anderson."
We exit the library, and my eyes fall
instantly on Jessica and Louise, who are sitting on the sofa in the living room
and talking quietly. On hearing us, they both look up with wary eyes. Seth
returns their gaze with an inscrutable expression. Finally he gives a shallow
nod, and before the two women can say anything, he swivels around and tugs me
out of the house.