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Willow let the conversation flow around her. She thought about the fact Audrey was going to let her learn to drive her car.
Willow stared out the passenger window and, for about the thousandth time, wondered about the family she’d found herself placed in.
Clinton and Bea were Audrey’s foster kids, too, but the three of them were definitely a family.
And a tiny part of her, a part she brutally pushed down whenever it appeared, wished that she were a part of their family, too.
But she wasn’t.
She had to remember that. Sooner or later, social services would move her again. Someday soon, though, she’d age out of their jurisdiction.
Then her life would really begin.
She’d get a job and have that apartment with shelves and every week she’d buy a new book to add to her collection...
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_169820ee-4f77-5275-bbbd-f3f97811de79)
THE NEXT TWO WEEKS, Sawyer made it a point to be home early on Monday afternoons. He rationalized that when you had a convicted thief mowing your lawn, it was probably wise to be present and keep an eye on your house.
But if he was honest with himself, he wanted to see Willow’s guardian again.
Audrey Smith had been on his mind a lot.
The first week, he asked her about composting.
She went into a long discussion about open piles versus closed barrels. He found her enthusiasm for compost amusing, but he was also slightly envious. He couldn’t remember ever being that excited about anything.
As Willow finished mowing the following week, he came out with a glass of ice water and some chips. “They’re organic,” he assured her as he sat beside her on the picnic table bench.
He wasn’t someone who generally paid attention to the very few groceries he bought. But he figured Audrey did, so he’d chosen the organic kind of chips. And he had to admit, they were pretty good.
Willow took one and studied him a moment. “You like her,” she finally said.
He didn’t need to ask who Willow referred to. “She seems like...” He searched for a word and settled on, “An interesting woman. She’s passionate about the things she believes in.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Willow said. There was a slight scoff to her tone, but he heard something else. Maybe pride? “Audrey’s passion for her new work project is why the kids and I had to spend our weekend at an overgrown vacant lot. We couldn’t even mow it because there was so much junk piled up.”
“Junk?” he asked.
“Yeah, the site is downtown. The city owns it. I guess there used to be railroad tracks that went through there. Now that they’ve closed down and the land reverted to the city, they’re donating it to Audrey’s project. It’s wild and overgrown. We filled ten bags with garbage, and hauled away a bunch of bigger items that couldn’t be bagged.”
“Why is it up to you all to clear it?” he asked. “I thought Audrey was the architect.”
“Oh, cleaning up that lot isn’t her job or ours, and she is the architect, but this isn’t a normal project. It’s a volunteer thing. She says that it will pay off in the long run. Mr. Lebowitz—that’s her boss—will get publicity and she’ll be building a legacy. She could have waited for fall so some of the schoolkids could help clean...”
“Schoolkids?” he asked.
As if talking to a young child, Willow explained, “The project’s meant to educate and empower us, whatever that really means.”
“Oh. And Audrey’s...”
“Certified, like I said. She knows environmental rules and policies, so they talked to her, and she wanted the project. Her boss got behind the idea. He’s technically in charge, but he’s staying behind the scenes. It’s really her project. Which means we get to contribute, too, like it or not. Well, when she got the project, you’d have thought she won a gold medal. And Bea and Clinton, too.”
“And how are they related to her?”
“They’re not related at all, either. She’s just our foster mom. No one else could have gotten foster kids so young, but she decided Clinton was meant to be with her, and since he was with Bea in his last placement, Audrey got Bea, too. She’s convinced she can save the world...”
“One compost pile at a time,” he supplied.
Willow laughed. “Yeah. And she’s convinced she can save all the throwaway kids in the world.”
Was that how Willow saw herself? As a throwaway kid?
Audrey and two kids came into the backyard. Bea and Clinton, he guessed.
Willow jumped up, as if she’d been caught slacking. “You’re early.”
“I brought Sawyer a present,” she said. “But first, Sawyer, this is Clinton and Beatrice...”
“Bea,” the young girl corrected.
“Bea,” Audrey confirmed for him. “Guys, this is Mr. Williams.”
Mr. Williams always had him looking for his dad.
“You can call me Sawyer,” he told Audrey’s kids.
The boy—Clinton—had rusty colored hair and freckles. More freckles than Sawyer had ever seen on one face. And the girl had light brown skin, with a long dark brown braid that ran down her back and landed at her hips.
Audrey and the boy went back to the front of the house and returned with a black barrel suspended on a metal rack.
Sawyer looked at Willow, who softly supplied, “Composter.”
“Of course it is,” he whispered back. He knew he was grinning like a schoolkid who just got picked first for the team.
Audrey set the black barrel down in front of him. “You asked about composters last week, so I didn’t think you’d be offended. It’s got a handle and you just give it a turn now and then, add some water, and soon you’ll have compost for all your planting beds. I thought you could put it next to your garbage bin.”
Before he knew it, she set it up and, with the kids’ help, gave him a rundown on how to use it.
He listened and nodded, and couldn’t help but think, What a weird woman. Odd. It wasn’t her composting and environmental principles—hippie chick stuff, as Willow would say. No, he could understand and admire that kind of passion.
It was the rest. He wasn’t sure he knew what to make of a woman who took in foster kids, volunteered for what seemed to be very time-consuming projects and believed in second chances.
Or third chances.
She seemed willing to give of herself with that project at work, but also with the kids she took in and now with him. A virtual stranger.
He wondered when the last time was that he gave something of himself with no expectation of getting something in return.
When Audrey wound down, he was surprised to hear himself asking, “What are you doing for the Fourth?”
Audrey, who always seemed like a whirlwind of movement, stopped a moment. Completely stopped. “The Fourth of July?”
Emphasizing each word, he slowly repeated. “The. Fourth. Of. July. Independence Day. Do you have plans?”
She shook her head. “Not plans per se. I don’t work, so I’ll be spending the day with the kids.”
“I thought I could pay you back for your kindness and the composter by having a picnic here. For you and the kids,” he added.
She was going to say no. He could see it in her expression. She got as far as the word “I...”
He cut her off. “If you say no, I’ll probably just spend the day in my office working.” This was an out-and-out lie. He’d planned to go visit his friend Martin Pennington and his wife, Jan. When Millie left, they’d taken him under their wings. He didn’t find it a comfortable place to be because he hated feeling like an obligation.
“Let me pay back your kindness,” he said. “The kids can go swimming and we’ll picnic.”
Audrey was silent. He thought she was going to politely refuse, but finally she nodded and said, “Only if you let me bring something.”
“Done.”
The kids were helping Willow take her tools to the front.
He hated that she was leaving. Under other circumstances, he might ask her out for lunch, or drinks. Eventually, if that went well, dinner and a movie, or a show. He’d take it slow and play it cool.
With Audrey, cool didn’t seem to apply. Not at all.
She turned to follow after the kids, but he said, “Listen, I went down to Miller Brothers and ordered a lawn mower. It will be here next week, so you won’t have to haul yours back and forth anymore.”
Audrey stopped, turned around and looked at him. For a moment, Sawyer felt like an open book. As if she could see everything about him. Then she smiled, obviously happy with whatever she’d seen. “You are a very nice man, Sawyer Williams.”
“It’s nothing to do with nice. It just seemed silly to make you haul your lawn mower over here every week.”
“I maintain that you are nice, but I’ll let you keep your illusion that you’re not. And thank you.” She turned and headed toward the front of the house.
He followed her. The kids were busy loading stuff in the car.
“And thank you again for giving Willow a chance.”
Sawyer looked at Audrey. “May I ask why you took in a kid who’s only a dozen years younger than you and has a record?”
She turned to him and her brown eyes met his. He noticed there were gold flecks in them. “Because no one else would.”
He waited to see if she was going to add anything else, but it became apparent she wasn’t. “There’s more to it than that. You’re young. Why saddle yourself with three kids?” Throwaways, Willow had said.
“Because when I was young, I was just like them. Moved from family to family, from home to home, but none of the places I lived was my home—my family. I had two friends back then. They cared. And that made all the difference. I never got a home, but I’ve given those three kids one. It’s not traditional family, and you’re right, I’m young. But no kid in the foster system is looking for a perfect family...they just want someone to belong to. Someplace to call home. I try to do that for these three.”
“But how did you get started?” he asked.
“That is a long story.”
He was about to say he could manage long when she added, “Too long for today.” She looked away from him, her attention back on the kids.
“Come on, Aud,” Clinton called.
It took Sawyer a second to realize the boy had called her Aud, not Odd. He might not know Audrey very well yet, but he knew she was odd—in a very good way. Not many people her age took on the responsibility of three kids, one of whom had a checkered past.
“What time would you like us to come over on Saturday?” Audrey asked as she started toward the car.
“How about noon?”
“That sounds great.”
“Have the kids bring their suits,” he reminded her.
Audrey nodded. “See you then.” With that, she got in the car with the kids and backed out of his driveway. With other women, even his ex, Millie, he’d had playing it cool down to a science. He did enough, but not too much. He called, but not too often. Now as he stood staring down the road long after she’d disappeared, he realized he was anxious to see Audrey.
Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
“SO, WHAT DO you think?” Audrey asked Willow as she drove toward home. Bea and Clinton were in the back playing some game on the iPad.
She was really directing the question to herself. What did she think about Sawyer Williams?
“About what?” Willow asked.
“About Sawyer.” He was a handsome man, but that didn’t count much in Audrey’s book. Sure, she noticed, but more than that she’d noticed he was kind. He’d gone out and bought a lawn mower so they wouldn’t have to haul hers back and forth.
And he’d given Willow a chance. A lot of men wouldn’t have. That was kind.
She didn’t say any of that. Instead, she said, “I’ve noticed he’s been around on the afternoons you mow.”
Willow snorted. “Yeah, I think that’s a case of self-preservation. He’s probably afraid I’m going to break in again.”
“If that was true, I don’t think he’d come down and help you clean up.”
Audrey was watching the road, but she caught Willow’s shrug.
“He seems okay for an old guy,” she admitted grudgingly. “And he’s been pretty decent to me, despite the fact I broke into his house.”
“Not just you. You and someone else.”
Willow hadn’t ever admitted anyone was with her. But her caseworker said that Sawyer had heard voices. Plural.
Willow didn’t respond. Not that Audrey expected her to. She kept hoping Willow would confide in her, but she reminded herself that she couldn’t push. “Sawyer’s invited us to his place for a picnic on the Fourth.”
“I was thinking about going down to the bay to watch fireworks with some friends.” Willow’s tone said more than her words. She didn’t want to spend the day at Sawyer’s. Or maybe she didn’t want to spend the day with Audrey and the kids.
Or maybe she was a sixteen-year-old who simply wanted to spend time with friends.
