Follow the Stars Home (23 page)

Amy was to stay with the Robbinses for a few days. Dianne made up the twin bed in Julia's room. Amy didn't sleep at all the first night. She climbed in and out of bed, wandering around the room, kneeling by the window and looking out, as if she hoped her mother would come to get her. Dianne couldn't sleep either. She wanted to call Alan and ask him to come over and be with them. When she saw Amy crying, she went in.

“You'll go home,” Dianne said.

“She can't get on without me,” Amy said.

“I'm sure she misses you,” Dianne said.

“She forgets to take her vitamins,” Amy sobbed. “Without me there, Buddy'll hurt her. He holds himself back when I'm around.”

Children aren't supposed to protect their parents, Dianne wanted to say. It's supposed to be the other way around. Julia slept fitfully, her breath rumbling like distant thunder. Kneeling by the window, Amy stared in the direction of her own house. Whippoorwills called in the marsh. The night was so dark,
every constellation showed: Draco, Cepheus, Cassiopeia. The Milky Way was a wide river of stars.

“She'd want you to sleep,” Dianne said, her hand on Amy's shoulder.

“I'm worried something bad will happen—”

“I know.”

“I don't want it to,” Amy said, her voice tight.

“I know that too,” Dianne said. Alan knew the situation better than she did. If only he would come now, he could hold Amy and comfort her, say the right things. The way he always tried to do with Dianne …

Across the yard, she could see her studio. Stella sat in the window, staring as she always did at the stars. Her head was tilted up, and even from her room Dianne could see her eyes full of yearning.

“Look,” Dianne said, leaning down so her face was next to Amy's. The child's cheeks were wet, and Dianne could hear the soft shudders of continued sobbing. “Your friend.”

“My friend?”

“Stella,” Dianne said. “Doing what she always does: searching for Orion.”

“Every night?”

“Every night. Even when it's cloudy, she looks for that constellation. No matter what. She knows it's there, whether she can see it or not.”

“She believes,” Amy said brokenly.

“Yes. She has faith. I always imagine her living in that stone wall when she was tiny, looking up at the sky. I'll bet she thought Orion was her father. He's the hunter, but he kept her safe.”

“Like my father …” Amy said, turning her eyes to the sky. Dianne looked down at Amy, then across the dark yard at Stella. There they both were, the young girl and the strange little cat, staring at Orion
in the sky, thinking of their fathers. Tilting her head back, Dianne thought of Emmett. And she thought of another man, someone who had never been a father but knew just how to be a good one, Alan.

After four days the puppy still hid under the daybed in Dianne's studio and wouldn't come out. Dianne had architecture books and photo albums and interesting scraps of lumber she was saving under there, and he had wedged himself behind it all. Nothing of him was visible, not even his eyes.

Dianne had left bowls of food and water by her desk, but he wouldn't even emerge for sustenance. By the second night, when it was obvious he wasn't going to venture forth, Dianne pushed the bowls under the bed. She had never seen a creature so terrorized, and it disturbed her horribly.

Even worse was imagining what Amy had seen and endured. Dianne watched the child alternately stand by the window, then stare at the telephone. She missed her mother with burning intensity. Every seventy-two hours had brought new developments: first, an order of protection, with Amy not allowed to go home. Second, a hearing, at which Alan had been appointed temporary guardian. And finally, the decision that Amy would stay with Dianne in foster care for a period to be determined by the court.

Amy's bruise had turned black; it showed through the cotton of her summer shirt. Gazing from Amy to Julia, Dianne felt her chest fill with rage.

Amy was every mother's dream: healthy, beautiful, active, smart, kind. To have a child and not love her with all your heart, how was such a thing even possible? How could a mother waste her life away, sleeping the free hours she could be spending with her
daughter? How could Tess Brooks let her boyfriend hurt them both, especially Amy, so badly?

But it was the way that Amy loved her mother that broke Dianne's heart. Away from her, Amy had lost some of her spirit. She hardly talked. She wouldn't eat. When Dianne asked for her opinion on what color the newest playhouse's door should be, Amy just shrugged. Even Julia couldn't capture her attention. Amy just stared into space.

Until Stella came down from her basket.

The cat circled the bed. She didn't seem particularly afraid or curious; she just walked around, looking for the best spot. There was a dog under the bed. A strange dog. Nothing escaped Stella's attention, but by the way she was moving, Dianne knew that she realized the dog was there, that she had something in mind.

“Amy,” Dianne said. “Look.”

Amy watched, glanced questioningly at Dianne.

“What's she doing?” Amy asked.

Stella crouched. She wriggled slightly, settling on her haunches as if she planned to be there for a while. By her position, Dianne guessed that she was just about even with the spot the puppy had hidden himself. The cat's turquoise eyes were trained on the one-inch gap between the bedspread and the floor.

“She's waiting.”

“Why isn't she afraid?” Amy asked, a little inquisitive brightness returning to her eyes. “He's so much bigger than she is.”

“Well,” Dianne began, but Amy figured it out.

“She wants to be his friend?”

“I think so. She's letting him know it's safe.”

“But Stella never thinks it's safe,” Amy said, looking up at the shelf. “She stays in her basket all day long! She never even comes down like this for us!”

“Maybe telling him it's safe will help her know it herself.”

“Will she show him Orion tonight?” Amy asked. “When the stars come out?”

“I wouldn't be surprised,” Dianne said.

“That's his name,” Amy said suddenly. “Orion.”

“The puppy. Orion!” Dianne said.

“Stella and Orion …”

Amy walked over to Julia. Julia had been drowsy all day, but she seemed to perk up at Amy's approach. She lifted her head, looked up with wide eyes. Amy crouched beside Julia's seat just as the cat was doing with the dog.

“We have pets,” Amy whispered. “I've never named a dog before. His name is Orion. Men can see him from their boats, Julia. Your father and mine. When they follow the stars to come home, Orion will show them the way.”

Julia swayed slightly. She seemed lulled by Amy's voice. Faithfulness and devotion were in her face. Her thin body leaned closer to her friend. Amy's eyes glittered with tears and the madness of loving people who weren't there. Dianne knew well about longing for absent people, and her throat ached hard. Julia had a father, and he wasn't Alan. The knowledge was as true as the stars, and it broke Dianne's heart.

At the week's end Alan stopped by Amy's house to pick up more things she needed. When Dianne heard his car, she ran outside. His eyes looked glazed, his face drawn.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Dianne said.

“Tess Brooks. She's like Lady Macbeth,” Alan said. “A blank stare on her face, haunted by what
she's living with. Swore left and right that Buddy didn't mean to do it. The dog lunged to bite Amy, and he was just pushing her out of the way. Does the dog bite?”

“The dog is so far under the bed, we haven't even seen him since he got here. But Amy says no, and I believe her.”

“So do I.”

“Her mother lied?”

“To protect Buddy. Tess Brooks is depressed, and he's got her convinced she can't take care of herself. He's an abusive bastard, telling her she should be grateful to have him.”

“I want to feel sorry for her,” Dianne said. “But what about Amy? The woman would lie instead of defending her daughter?”

“She's lying because she's desperate and afraid,” Alan said.

It seemed to Dianne like he could have been talking about his own mother. Tim had told her a few of the stories, how after Neil's death his mother would buy vodka. She'd drink it openly, tell the boys it was water. Later, when that didn't work, she'd hide the bottles and say she had quit for good. When she crashed the car, she said she had swerved to avoid a dog. When she'd smashed into the side of a van and sent it skidding through an intersection, she'd told the investigating officers that she had suffered from migraines since the death of her son, that she hadn't even seen the van passing by.

“What else did she say?” Dianne asked. The thought of Tess Brooks made her sick. She felt furious, her blood pressure skyrocketing.

“She wants Amy back.”

“She said that?”

“Of course. She promises to get counseling, kick Buddy out, do whatever it takes. She's a nervous wreck.”

“Letting Amy get hurt like that …” Dianne said. She stood there, shaking, her arms folded across her chest. She pictured Amy's bruises.

“She's filled with remorse.”

“A little late,” Dianne said.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Alan said.

Dianne stared up at him in shock. How could he say that so easily? After everything his own mother had put Tim and himself through? Overcome with fury, Dianne shook her head.

“It's hard for me to reconcile,” Dianne said, “what that woman has let Amy go through, when I think of how I feel about Julia….”

“You're different,” Alan said.

“I know, I don't sleep all day!”

“She's not a bad person,” Alan said. “She's a sick person.”

“I don't see how you can say that,” Dianne said, staring down at her bare feet so he wouldn't see the angry tears in her eyes. “Coming from where you do.”

“You think Tim would be here?” Alan asked. “If our mother hadn't drunk?”

Dianne's head snapped up.

“I'm past wanting that,” she said, the tears streaming down her face. “But something hurt him early, made him into the man he was. I think about that, yes. I think about how the whole thing started. If she hadn't turned from her kids to the bottle … Yes, I think Tim's life would have been different. He'd have been able to stay with me and Julia….”

“Come on, Dianne,” Alan said, his face full of the agony she'd seen before. “You wish he'd stayed?”

“He's Julia's father,” Dianne said.

“In name only,” Alan said.

Dianne wanted to push him away. The reality of her life came crashing in. What did the words “in name only” mean when the subject was parents? Blood was the ultimate bond. Julia was Tim's daughter, and none of them were ever going to forget it. She could hear Alan's breath, feel it on her cheek. She felt utterly crushed, and she wanted to run away.

“I can't talk about Tim,” she said.

“I want to drag him back here to face what he left.”

“He can't face his own life,” Dianne said, feeling the color drain from her cheeks. “He's not capable.”

“I face mine,” Alan said. “Every day, every minute. Sometimes it's not easy….”

“You're different,” Dianne said.

“We both are,” he said. “You and I are alike.”

“In some ways,” she whispered, feeling the breeze blow across her arms, making the tiny hairs stand on end. She felt dizzy from how close he was standing.

“You're the most loving woman I know,” he said.

“With Julia,” she said.

“And with Amy. You took her in from the first day.”

“I want Amy to stay with us, Alan. For as long as she needs to.”

“As long as you realize her mother wants her home. And Amy wants to go.”