“HAVE A GOOD DAY, KEEP,” HARPER WHISPERED, WRAPPING HER ARMS around the big dog’s neck. “I wish I could stay home, but the storm’s over and school’s open again, so I guess I gotta go.” After her initial visit to Macey and Ben’s house, Harper had reluctantly accepted their invitation to spend the night. But, she had told Cora on their way back to the apartment to get her things, it’s only because they have a dog and cat. Keeper thumped his tail and she held his head in her hands and kissed his brow. “I’ll be back. Promise.”
“Ready, Harper?” Macey called from the front hall.
“Coming!” she called as she picked up her new backpack and stopped to look in the mirror. She was wearing a new outfit, her favorite of the several she’d picked when she and Macey had ventured out after the storm. They’d met Macey’s sister for lunch, and then Harper—who’d decided Maeve was absolutely awesome and funny—had invited her to go shopping with them. This outfit—slim navy capris with a pink flower design and a long-sleeve pink shirt—was one of several Maeve had helped her choose, advising her that pink always goes with red hair and freckles. She was also wearing pink canvas Converse high-tops and a pink fleece that was as soft as a cloud.
“Nervous?” Macey asked as they walked to the car, smiling at the outfit.
“A little,” Harper replied, trying to sound casual, even though her heart was pounding again. The last two days had gone better than she expected. The hurricane had brushed the coast before heading north, and although it was predicted to gain strength, Georgia had seen the worst it would see. The seventy-mile-an-hour winds and pelting rain had made it hazardous enough for authorities to close schools and businesses, which gave families some unexpected quality time, and Harper’s new foster family had made the most of it.
When the power went out, Keeper and Big Mac curled up in the warm glow of the fireplace and dozed as Macey and Ben taught Harper how to play Parcheesi. Keeper had edged closer when they roasted hot dogs and made s’mores, and later, as the storm raged, rattling windows and swaying trees, they’d all tucked safely into sleeping bags with Keeper and Big Mac curled up between them. Harper had gazed into the fire for a long time, pulled Bear close, and fallen asleep with her arm over Keeper’s neck. Macey and Ben had lain awake a little longer, talking softly, neither quite able to believe there was a little person in their care, and even though Macey worked in a pediatrician’s office, she had definite qualms about the fragile heart beating in Harper’s chest, and she prayed nothing would happen.
“Something new for you to worry about,” Ben had teased, kissing her good night.
After he’d fallen asleep, too, Macey had continued to watch the glowing embers and felt amazed by everything that had happened. In the short time Harper had been there, she’d already seen the little girl’s self-preserving outer shell start to crack, revealing a kindhearted soul who adored animals and had a truly silly sense of humor. She also realized, when Harper drew a portrait of Keeper, that she was a wonderful artist. More than once, she’d had the strange feeling that she was seeing her younger self—a feisty little redhead with a penchant for teasing Ben. “Oh no,” he’d laughed goodheartedly, taking it all in stride when she was winning at a game. “I think I’m outnumbered! Keep, you’ve gotta help me out here!” And the big dog had swished his tail in happy agreement.
“So we’re going to the main office first to find out which classroom you’re in, and then we’re going to stop at the nurse’s office and give her your medicine,” Macey said. “If you have any problems or don’t feel well, you need to go straight to her, okay?”
Harper nodded. “I hope I don’t have any problems.”
“I hope not, too,” Macey said, looking over. “I think you’ll like this school. Ben went here when he was your age. It had a different name back then, and it wasn’t a charter school like it is now. The way they teach is a little bit different, and they do a lot of fun things.”
“How come you didn’t go here?”
“I didn’t live here till I was in eighth grade.”
“Where’d you live before that?”
“Maine.”
“That’s far away,” Harper said matter-of-factly, not sure exactly where Maine was. “How come you moved here?”
“My dad got a new job.”
Harper nodded. “I don’t know where my dad is.”
Macey nodded but didn’t say anything—she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Here we are,” she said, turning into the school parking lot.
Harper looked at the long, low building and pressed her lips together pensively. “Do they have your number at work?”
“They do. And you have it in your backpack, too.”
Harper fumbled around in the pockets of her new backpack, trying to remember where she’d tucked the index card on which Macey had neatly printed their phone numbers. She finally found it, pulled it out, and studied it, trying to commit the numbers to memory. “Are you picking me up?”
“I am,” Macey confirmed. When the whirlwind of events had been coming together, making them foster parents, she’d called Marilyn at work to tell her the big news, and Marilyn had told Macey not to worry about a thing—they would manage . . . and they were all very happy for them.
“And we’re having spaghetti for supper,” Macey added.
“I love spaghetti!” Harper said in surprise.
“I know,” Macey said, laughing.
“How do you know that?” Harper asked.
“A little bird told me.”
“A little bird named Miss Cora?”
“Maybe.”
Harper shook her head and smiled as she climbed out of the car, but when she slung her backpack over her shoulder, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her chest and her smile faded. She clenched her jaw, willing it to go away. She didn’t want anything to go wrong today.