A few weeks after the school year ended, the Sisters called the children together for an important announcement. A nervous buzz filled the air as they stood in the dining hall waiting for Mother Superior to arrive.
“What do you think they’re going to say?” Valerie asked Grace.
Grace wasn’t sure, but she knew it wasn’t going to be good news. She could feel it in her bones.
Instinctively, Valerie took her hand. “Hey, whatever it is, it will be okay.”
Grace remembered the day Maggie left. Sometimes things weren’t okay.
They quieted down more quickly than usual when Mother Pascal entered the dining hall.
“Good morning, children,” she said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news to share with you today.”
Grace’s heart clenched, and she didn’t wait for the rest of the announcement. She knew what Mother was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear it. Not again. She turned and ran out of the room, the thundering of her heart blocking the sound of the old nun’s voice.
She took the stairs two at a time and threw herself onto her small, gray metal-framed bed and pulled her pillow over her head. She started praying that she was wrong, that somehow, it would not be so. She had finally adjusted to life at St. Andrews and, while it wasn’t perfect, it was familiar.
The look on the other kids’ faces as they made their way up to the room confirmed her suspicion, and Valerie filled in the details a short while later. Saint Andrews would close at the end of the summer. The children would all live in group homes until they could be placed with a foster family.
Tears flowed like an angry river down her face, soaking her neck and the front of her starched white blouse. Valerie’s arms went around her in a familiar embrace. She remembered Maggie’s arms around her the night before she left, never imagining it would be the last time.
When Grace drew back, she noticed the pain etched deeply in her friend’s face, and realized that this was just as hard for her. Valerie had been living at St. Andrews since she was four, when her parents and her little brother had been killed in a car accident. Her parents had been only children and there had been no other relatives willing or able to take her.
Grace had been through this before, but Valerie was being torn away from the people she loved for the first time. At least, the first time that she remembered.
She pulled Valerie into a tight, protective embrace and held her there. They were both hurting. And there was no reason for it.
None of the children were happy about the news. Mealtimes were quiet, and even recreation time became subdued. Grace retreated to her room when she wasn’t working in the kitchen, and spent her time reading, writing, or talking to Valerie. They often curled up in the same bed together, talking late into the night about what their new lives would be like. They promised they would write to each other every day, swearing that they would always be best friends, no matter where they were.
In early July, Grace was notified that she would be moving to a group home in Brooklyn the following week. The good news was that Valerie would be going with her. They both knew the group home was temporary, but it was, at least, a short-term victory.
She packed her trunk with all of her journals and sketchbooks, Theodore Izzle, and her other belongings, and secured the lock. They arrived at the group home that afternoon, along with two other girls from St. Andrews, and met the other six girls who already lived there. None of the girls were particularly friendly. They weren’t mean, it was just, like, why should they make friends when they knew they wouldn’t be there long? Except for Valerie, it was more like a hotel than a home. Only this was no vacation.
Some of the girls there had already been to foster homes and had returned when the situations didn’t work out. At night, she prayed to be overlooked and allowed to stay at the group home indefinitely, preferably with Valerie, but it turned out that God had other plans.
Before the school year started, Grace would be transferred to the home of Mike and Rose Smith and their sixteen-year-old son, Joey. The Smiths lived in a nice neighborhood in Brooklyn, but Grace was nervous about living with such a small family. At least at the orphanage, if you didn’t like someone, you could avoid them. She hoped they would be nice to her.
As she lay in her bed the night before she was to leave, she couldn’t help but think about the night before Maggie left. Fear and uncertainty crept into her veins just as it had that night. She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand but there was no stopping them. She clutched Theodore Izzle to her and pressed her face into her pillow to stifle the sobs.
In the morning, she and Valerie clung to each other and vowed once again to stay in touch. She waved to her friend from the back window of the van until she could no longer see her. Then she sat down in her seat and stared blankly out the window.
It became harder and harder to sit still, and as they got closer to the Smiths’ home, a thousand thoughts collided in her mind. What would it be like living in a home where she was the only outsider? What if they didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like them? She remembered Maggie’s last letter, telling her to be brave, and God knew she was trying, but as they pulled into the Smiths’ driveway, her stomach heaved.
Thankful that her stomach was empty—she’d skipped both dinner the night before and breakfast that morning—she wiped the sweat from her forehead and yanked the door handle with a shaky hand, sliding the side door of the van open.
The Smiths lived in a modest-sized, two-story home with a brick face on the lower half and white wood siding on the top. As Grace stepped out of the car on wobbly legs, the family came out to greet her.
She met Mike first. He seemed nervous and had an edge to his voice that made her wary.
Her stomach made waves again.
She turned to Joey, who held out his hand to her and smiled.
“Hi, welcome to the family.” He was tall and skinny with brown hair like his father, but he looked more like his mother.
A small, tentative smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she shook his hand. “Thanks,” she said politely and turned finally to Rose.
“Hi sweetheart,” Rose said. “Welcome to our home.” Rose was thin, with light green eyes, like a cat, and blonde hair cut into a shoulder-length bob. She gave Grace a warm hug, which took her by surprise. She hoped Rose hadn’t noticed her flinch.
She flashed an exaggerated smile in an attempt to mask her discomfort, and as she once more took in each member of the Smith family, a momentary flash of hope washed over her.
The counselor from the group home left, and they showed her to her room. She hadn’t realized that moving in with a family would mean she’d have her own room—a place she could escape to when she needed it. She had never even imagined the possibilities that were now opening up. She unpacked the trunk Mike had brought up, and went downstairs to see if Rose needed any help with dinner.
When she climbed into bed that first night, she realized that she had never slept in a room by herself. It was exhilarating. She felt safer than she ever had at the orphanage. She knew Robert Sampson was locked up, but she’d never felt fully safe since the night of the attack. Until now. Maybe now her nightmares would finally go away.
She thought about Joey, probably sleeping soundly in his own bed down the hall, and she wondered what it felt like to go to sleep knowing that you belonged to someone. To a mother and a father. She knew she would never know that feeling, but that never stopped the longing.
Worn out from the events of the day, she pulled the covers up to her chin and sighed into the darkness, feeling a little like Goldilocks, sleeping in someone else’s bed in someone else’s home.
It turned out that Mike owned his own construction company, which kept him very busy. He was only home for dinner on the weekends, and he spent most of the evening after that with Joey in the den, watching some sporting event or another. She did see a lot of Joey, though, and the two of them got along very well.
Grace was finally starting high school, and would be attending a public school for the first time—another development that was both scary and exhilarating—so Rose took her shopping to buy her some new clothes so she would fit in better. Grace was touched by her kindness, and after a couple of months, she seemed to be settling into her new life and felt very grateful for the Smiths. She knew it didn’t always work out so well with foster homes.
She hadn’t heard from Valerie yet, and wondered where she was and how she was doing. Maggie was very happy to hear that things were working out for her.
After homework each day, Grace spent time with Rose while Joey watched television. Sometimes they sat in the kitchen and talked, sometimes they took walks around the neighborhood, and sometimes on weekends they went to the movies together. Grace loved scary movies and Rose preferred romantic comedies, so they watched a mix of both. Sometimes Joey joined them, which meant it would be a sci-fi or action thriller.
Rose taught her how to cook and do laundry, and when Mike worked on weekends, she would take Grace into the city to museums or to lunch. Grace was grateful for Rose’s kindness, but she still felt like an outsider. They didn’t treat her that way, of course, but still, she knew she would only be there for a few years. Assuming that the rug wasn’t yanked out from under her—again—and that she’d be sent packing for the next place.
One night, while they were preparing dinner together, Rose began to cough uncontrollably. She coughed a lot, Grace had noticed, but never to the point where she could hardly breathe, like this. “Rose, are you okay?”
“Oh sure, sweetheart. I just had a little something stuck in my throat.”
But Grace could see the worry in Rose’s eyes.
“You cough a lot, you know. Maybe you should see a doctor. I’d be happy to go with you.”
Rose smiled and nodded slightly. “Maybe I will.”
Over the next few weeks, Grace noticed that Rose was coughing more than ever. But when she asked her whether she had made a doctor appointment yet, Rose shook her head and said, “But I will, I promise.”
Two weeks later, Rose and Mike sat down with Grace and Joey after dinner one night and shared the bad news—Rose had lung cancer.
And there it was. The moment Grace had half expected. She heard almost nothing that was said after that, and when Mike finished speaking, she ran to her room and threw herself onto her bed.
She grabbed Theodore Izzle and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew it was too good to last. She was just starting to believe that things might actually work out.
I should’ve known better!
She heard a light knock on the door, followed by Rose’s voice. “May I come in, Grace?”
Grace sat up as Rose came into the room, sat down on the bed, and pulled her into her arms.
Her body stiffened.
“I’m going to be fine, sweetheart,” Rose whispered into the young girl’s ear.
Grace withdrew from Rose’s embrace and searched her eyes. Rose seemed so sure of what she said. Was it possible? She wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay, but she felt a slight tugging on the rug beneath her.