Eleven
Frankie
“Thank you again, Mrs. Anders. Dinner was absolutely amazing,” I tell Beck's mom as I place the dishes in the sink before turning on the water.
“Oh, honey, you don't have to do all that. I can take care of everything,” she says with a warm smile. It's almost as warm as her hug was earlier. I swear that hug was so comforting it almost brought tears to my eyes.
“I don't mind helping out. I used to be the dryer in the home, but I always secretly wished I was the one who could scrub the dishes. Something so soothing and peaceful about it,” I tell her, and then my eyes go wide at mentioning my past.
“What was your number, sweetheart?” she asks me softly. I don't need her to clarify. I know she wants to know how many foster homes I was placed in.
“A few.” I shrug non-committaly as I continue to scrub the dishes. I feel her walk up beside me and pick up the dish rag by the sink.
“Thirteen,” she whispers softly to me. I turn my head, confused. “I was sent to thirteen foster homes before I was fifteen years old. Three weeks before my sixteenth birthday, I was sent to Ray's family. He took one look at me and swore to his parents and me, right there in that doorway, that he was going to protect me from that day on… he never backed out on that promise either.” She smiles as I gape at her. Her eyes focused on the backyard where the guys went. I see the look in her eyes and almost fall to my knees when I realize she has the same eyes as Beck. I’ve seen him look at me that way so many times that I’ve lost count. My breath catches, and I can't help but mutter the next words.
“Seventeen.”
“Oh, you sweet girl. I’m so sorry, but just know… we want you, and we are keeping you, okay?” she asks, and I swear the walls around my heart crash down around me.
“Thank you, Mrs…”
“Mom.” She interrupts me, “When you're comfortable, Mom.” Her words heal some of the wounds I didn't even realize I still carried around with me from my past.
I let the tears fall freely this time as I turn back to the kitchen. Beck's mom…. Mom, lord, those words feel weird even thinking, but at the same time they feel so right. Mom doesn't try to say anything else, knowing I need a minute to think over everything. She gives me my space but still makes sure she leans close to me, shoulder to shoulder, as we finish the dishes. I don't know how she knew I needed her shoulder to lean on, but I have a feeling this woman will be a constant surprise, and I can't wait.
“I put fresh sheets on Beck's bed downstairs. You are more than welcome to stay with us. Just know that if you both decide to stay in your home tonight, a hot meal will be ready for breakfast in the morning,” she tells me, emphasizing the word home, and again, it brings tears to my eyes. When she smiles at me, I know she gets it. When you're a foster kid, there isn't much that is yours and yours alone. Even rarer is to find a safe place. My van has always been my safe place, my home. Now, though, I’m seeing I might have another home, another safe place.
“Thanks…” I clear my throat, but I still struggle with the word “Mom.”
The tears that gather in her eyes match my own, and without another word, she wraps me in another hug until we hear the backdoor bang open.
“Schnooks, you're crying. Why are you crying? Mom, what did you do? Why is she crying?” I try to laugh at Beck's frantic firing off of questions, but a sob comes out instead.
“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Frankie is fine. She's right where she belongs. Why don't you take our girl now? I think she could use some rest.” I love this woman. How is it she just seems to know exactly what I need?
“Come on, Schnooks,” Beck says softly as he turns and leads me out of the kitchen and to a set of stairs in the living room leading to the basement. As we make it to the bottom, I realize it's more of an apartment down here than it is a basement. It's been completely renovated. There is a king-size bed on the far side, but a sectional in the middle of the room surrounding a huge flat screen.
“That door leads to the bathroom and shower. There's a tub in there as well. Want me to draw you a bath?” he asks, heading that way.
“Only if you promise to join me,” I say as I slowly draw the zipper down on my dress. When Beck turns to look back at me, I watch as those sexy-as-hell dimples make an appearance before he replies.
“Don't you know by now Schnooks… I would follow you anywhere.”
It's my turn to smile as I run and jump into his arms, leaning down and kissing both those dimples before meeting his mouth. When I pull back, there is only one thing on my mind.
“You're my entire being, Frankie. One day, I’ll prove that beyond a doubt,” he whispers against my mouth. It's my turn to smile as I reply…
“You already have over and over again. Tonight was the last straw. I’m giving you all my pieces, Schnookums.” He laughs as I call him the pet name he loves to annoy me with. I’ll never tell him it's grown on me, and I never want to hear my real name come out of his mouth again. Instead, I give him everything. “You have my mind, my body, my soul. I love you.”
“Fuck, baby. I love you beyond reason,” he replies, squeezing me in his arms.
Yup, right here in Beck's arms, this is my safe space. This, He, is my…. Home.