Chapter
Thirteen
Soren
“Hey, sweetheart!” my mom crooned in my ear as though I was a kid coming home from the first day of kindergarten. She had good intentions. Abel’s death had affected us all differently, and it had made her more affectionate than she had already been, and sometimes it was downright embarrassing. It sounded like she was taking a fitness class because I could hear instructions in the background and eighties music. She sounded slightly out of breath, and someone yelled, “Raise your left leg higher!”
To which she mumbled, “Lucinda, I’ve had two nine-pound toddlers walk outta this body. It doesn’t raise like that anymore!” I rubbed my hand across my eyes, trying to resist awkward laughter.
“Hey, I have a question for you,” I say.
“Oh good! Because I have answers.” She quipped with a laugh. There was a song from the sixties pumping in the background now while someone continued to yell out instructions.
“Do you remember Abel having a friend named Sawyer?”
“Hmmmm . . . do you know when?” she asked with a puff.
“In elementary school. She was a foster child. She may have lived near Sally Thomas.”
“Ohhhh, yes! I remember her. Such a tiny little angel. Poor thing was placed with that crazy Thompson family. I always thought they did foster care for the wrong reasons. Bill barely held down a job. Why do you ask?”
I knew she’d remember.
“Well, I met her the other day, but I think because of the age difference, I didn’t remember her,” I said, pouring myself a glass of water, the phone wedged between my ear and my shoulder.
“Hmmm. I think I only saw her a handful of times when I helped in Abel’s class. I remember her having incredibly striking eyes . . . I think they were maybe blue, or was it green? Either way, I remember them being bright and beautiful. She wasn’t around for too long, and I remember Bill getting arrested after she left. I never heard exactly why, but I always thought it might have been connected. How is she doing now?”
I heard someone giving instructions for another exercise. I settled on a barstool in my kitchen and gave her the rundown of helping search for Connor.
“Wow. Good for her! Making such a difference in children’s lives.” She was always looking for the bright side.
We ended the call a few minutes later as Mom had to do something involving jump roping and wasn’t sure if she’d be able to continue to talk. I knew she’d remember Sawyer, because she was sharp as a tack with details. It was what had made her successful. She worked remotely as a part-time insurance saleswoman while my dad enjoyed his retirement, experimenting with new hobbies. According to my mom, his latest hobby was birdwatching, which fit his quiet and reflective personality. My mom and dad were good, decent people, and someday I hoped I’d have the ability to make them proud, especially since I’d spent so many years doing the opposite.
Soren:
Hey, Pretty Girl.
Sawyer:
Hi.
Soren:
Would you be interested in coming over next Sunday? I’m grilling and having a couple of my friends over.
Sawyer:
Sorry, but I can’t.
Two Days Later
Soren:
Hey, Pretty Girl. I have a meeting in Lewis City tomorrow. Want to grab ice cream afterward?
Sawyer:
I can’t. Maybe another time.