Avis could hardly breathe as she lifted the little boy, whose arms wrapped themselves tightly around her neck. “Oh, Conny, love!” she whispered in his ear. “Grammy has missed you so much!”
“Me too, Grammy!” The little boy pressed his face into her neck—and then he pulled back and looked up at her, a pout on his lips. “Where have you been?”
Oh, right here, right here, Conny, her heart cried. All the time. But she looked up—and saw Rochelle standing beside a chair toward the back of the coffee shop, watching them, her face a mixture of . . . what? Bewilderment? Distress? Fear? Maybe all of them. But Avis saw something else that made her heart wrench. Her precious daughter seemed bony and thin, her face pinched.
Rochelle wasn’t well. Oh God! Don’t let her lose her battle with HIV!
Hesitating just a moment, Avis put Conny down and walked slowly toward her daughter. For the first time, she noticed Kathryn Davies sitting at the table also. Was it only twenty minutes ago that she and Peter had been sitting in their living room talking to Nick Taylor when his cell phone had rung? When he flipped the phone shut, she’d hardly been able to believe what he said. “Mrs. Douglass, your daughter Rochelle is at The Common Cup. Kathryn’s working there this morning. She says to tell you to come right away. Like now!”
“Rochelle?! Kathryn’s sure it’s Rochelle?”
“Don’t quibble! Go!” Peter had said. Avis hadn’t taken time to change out of the sweats and T-shirt she’d put on that morning to work around the house. Had just run down the stairs and out to her car. Oh God, oh God, she’d prayed. Let Rochelle still be there when I arrive.
And now there she was. The familiar thick head of hair. Her honey-brown skin. Dark brown eyes wide, flickering uncertainly. One hand gripping the back of a chair. As they got close, Kathryn Davies rose and slipped away.
“Look, Mama!” Conny announced triumphantly. “It’s Grammy!”
Rochelle licked her lips and swallowed. “Hi, Mom.” Her voice was a mere whisper.
Avis let go of Conny’s hand. “Oh, Rochelle . . .” Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around her daughter and pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, Rochelle, Rochelle, sweetheart,” she whispered into the mass of hair. “I love you so much.”
Rochelle’s body began to tremble. Her arms went around Avis’s waist and held on tight. “Oh, Mom! I’m so sorry about the earrings! I was mad because Peter wouldn’t give me any money, was going to sell ’em—but I just couldn’t. Oh, Mom . . .” She burst into tears.
“Shh, shh, you don’t have to say anything. It’s enough that you’re here.”
Mother and daughter held each other a long time, paying no attention to curious looks from other customers. But eventually Avis felt a tug on her sweatpants. “I have to go potty!” Conny announced.
“Never fails,” Rochelle groaned, untangling herself from Avis’s arms.
Avis smiled down at her grandson. “Tell you what, kiddo. You go potty and I’ll get us something to eat. Sound good?”
It was hard to let them out of her sight as they followed the sign to the restrooms. But Avis went to the counter and ordered a banana muffin and glass of milk for Conny, two cinnamon raisin bagels with cream cheese, tea for Rochelle, and coffee for herself. While she waited for the young man behind the counter to put their order together, Avis glanced around the coffee shop. “Where’s Kathryn Davies?” she asked him. “Isn’t she working here this morning?”
“Was,” he said, slicing the bagels. “She got off at ten. I think I saw her leave. Uh, you want your coffee now? The bagels will take a few minutes to toast.”
“Hold everything till the bagels are ready.” Avis stepped away from the counter to wait by the window. But outside a familiar figure caught her eye. Kathryn Davies was leaning against the building at the edge of the coffee shop window, back to her, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around herself, as if . . .
Avis stepped outside. “Kathryn?” she called. “Is something the matter?”
Head bent, the young woman flicked a hand as if brushing her off. But Avis walked up and touched her on the shoulder. “Kathryn?”
As Kathryn slowly turned her head, Avis could see she’d been crying. “What’s wrong?” A nudge in Avis’s spirit prompted her to reach out and turn the girl toward her. “What’s wrong, Kathryn?”
The girl shook her head, brushing tears away, eyes not meeting Avis’s. “Nothing. I’m all right.”
Avis glanced back inside the coffee shop window. No Rochelle or Conny yet. Turning back to Kathryn, she said gently, “Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Might help to talk about it.”
Kathryn bit her lip to keep it from trembling but just shook her head.
After a long moment Avis broke the silence. “I want to thank you for letting me know my daughter showed up here and encouraging me to come. It means a lot. We’ve had some problems, but I think we can make it now.”
Kathryn nodded. “I know. I could . . . could tell by that hug you gave your daughter. Made me”—her voice lowered to a whisper—“made me wish I was Rochelle.”
“You wish—?” Avis didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Kathryn Davies, do you have any idea the kinds of challenges Rochelle faces? Or the pain she and I have been through lately?!” Avis gave a short laugh. If Kathryn’s comment weren’t so ridiculous, it would be funny.
Kathryn shrank back. “I know.” Her voice was small. “It’s just that . . . I can’t remember the last time my mother hugged me like that. Or hugged me at all.” And suddenly the tears welled up again and Kathryn’s body shook with sobs.
Standing there on the sidewalk, Kathryn’s words sank into Avis’s spirit. All this time, this well-meaning, annoying, impetuous, irritating young woman had just been needing some basic mother love. Oh God, how wrong I’ve been! Yes, things had been tough the past few months between her and Rochelle. But at least they had a relationship that could be restored. But Kathryn? It sounded like there wasn’t much of a relationship at all.
Remorse at the way she’d been holding the girl at arm’s length for so long felt almost like a physical pain.
Glancing inside the window, Avis saw that Rochelle and Conny had returned from the bathroom and were looking around for her. She was torn, feeling an urgency to go back inside and drink in the sight of her daughter and grandson, touch them, talk to them, listen to their voices. She had a zillion questions she wanted to ask. A desperate need to fill in the blanks. But . . . there was one thing she needed to do first.
“Kathryn, come here.” Reaching out, Avis Douglass pulled Kathryn Davies into her arms, laid her cheek against the girl’s hair, and just held her close as the girl cried.
“I thought you left!” Conny stuck his lip out at her when Avis returned to the table with the tray of their drinks and food.
“Oh no, baby. Grammy’s not ever going to leave my boy.”
“What happened to Kat?” Rochelle asked. “She and I were talking before you came.”
“She’s outside. She said she’d come in after a while to finish whatever you were talking about, but she wanted to give us some time first.” Avis looked at her daughter curiously. “What’s going on?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Rochelle toyed with her bagel. “She, uh, invited me and Conny to move in with her and her friends for the summer.”
Big Ears jerked upright in his chair. “You an’ me, Mama? Yeah! I wanna stay with you again!”
Avis’s heart beat a little faster. “Conny isn’t staying with you right now?”
Rochelle shifted nervously in her chair. “Not exactly—”
“Uh-uh. I hafta stay with Daddy so I can go to school.” Conny blew bubbles into his milk with a straw.
Now Avis nearly panicked. “Rochelle! Not with—” She stopped herself. Conny didn’t need to hear that his father had a restraining order against him because of physical and mental abuse of his mother. Rochelle had extricated herself from the abusive marriage five years ago. Why would she put Conny back into that situation?!
Unless she felt she had no choice.
“Rochelle, where are you living right now? I went by your apartment—”
“I told you I got evicted. Didn’t you believe me? I—I’ve just been staying around. With friends. Where I can.” Rochelle’s voice turned almost fierce. “But Conny needed someplace regular, someplace he could keep going to school—isn’t that right, baby?” She leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of Conny’s head. But Conny was still busy blowing bubbles with his straw.
Rochelle tipped her head up and looked Avis right in the eye. “Your man didn’t want us staying with you, so, yeah, I made a deal with Dexter that Conny could stay with him till the end of school. He hasn’t ever, you know—not to Conny.”
“Oh, Rochelle . . .” Avis’s emotions churned in her stomach, a raw mixture of fear for Conny spending even one more day with that man, gut-wrenching sorrow that Rochelle had been virtually homeless for the past four months, and anger at Peter. Yes! Anger at Peter. None of this would have happened if Peter hadn’t been so stubborn that night back in February, had been willing for Rochelle and Conny to stay with them until they got on their feet.
Kathryn Davies appeared, eyes dry, though a little red, with a smile for Rochelle. “Is it okay to tell your mom what we were talking about?”
“I kind of did. But maybe you can tell her.”
Avis looked from Kathryn to Rochelle and back again. What had Rochelle said? She’d gotten so upset at finding out that Conny was staying with his dad, she’d completely missed it.
Kathryn pulled up a chair. “Well, you know, Mrs. D, that Olivia moved back home this week. Which leaves us with some extra room in our apartment. Well, the Candys’ apartment. So anyway, knowing that Rochelle and Conny needed a place to live, we decided—Nick, Brygitta, and me—to ask Rochelle if she’d like to move in with us for the rest of the summer. And she’s thinking about it, right, Rochelle?”
Rochelle nodded. But the implication of this announcement left Avis speechless. Kathryn knew about Rochelle’s situation? Knew they needed a place to live, maybe even knew Conny was living with his dad, and had been talking about it with Rochelle—how many times?
Be wise, Avis, she told herself. There would be time to find out the answers to the questions swimming in her head. She had to focus on now. Rochelle was here. Conny was here. And Kathryn and her friends had just made a generous offer.
An offer that might even get Peter’s approval.
Bored with blowing milk bubbles, Conny wandered over to the book corner and sat down with some of the kids’ books on the lower shelf. Relieved that “Big Ears” was out of earshot, the three of them talked.
Rochelle said she was grateful for the offer of a place she and Conny could stay together, but she didn’t have any money right now. It’d been tough finding a job without an address, but now . . . Kathryn said don’t worry about it. She could be a “guest” until she found a job. Did she want to move in today? . . . No, because all Conny’s stuff was at his dad’s—and if Conny didn’t come home tonight, there’d be hell to pay before Dexter let Rochelle pick up the boy’s things . . . Avis jumped in. What if they went to Dexter’s place with a copy of the restraining order—and threatened to call the police if he didn’t turn over the boy’s things? . . . That was tricky, because Rochelle had voluntarily let the boy stay there . . . But wasn’t the reason he was at his dad’s so he could go to school? School ended a week ago! Rochelle now had a place to stay, and she had legal custody. It was time for Conny to come back to live with his mom . . . But, Rochelle admitted, she was afraid to confront Dexter alone.
Avis was just about to say she’d go confront Dexter herself, when Conny reappeared at his mother’s elbow, frowning big time. “Stop talking and let’s go.” He pulled on her arm. “I wanna go to Grammy’s house.”
Rochelle cuddled him. “You’ve been super patient, big boy! But I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go see the apartment where you and Mama might stay together?” She looked hopefully at Kathryn. “Is that okay? Could we stop at your place so Conny and I can see the apartment? Maybe meet your friends if they’re there?”
Fishing out her car keys, Avis noticed Rochelle’s hesitance to “go to Grammy’s.” On the other hand, checking out the apartment Kathryn and her friends were subletting was a good idea. That would give her time to go up to the third floor and talk to Peter.