When she dropped Allie off at school, Allie didn’t ask if Bea was sticking around. If she was planning to come back. If Allie should take the bus home, or if Bea was going to be there with a ride.
Or if Bea had just come around to say goodbye.
It wasn’t that she forgot to ask, either. More that she couldn’t bear to know.
Bea was there after school.
And the following morning.
And that afternoon.
And the morning after that.
Day after day she showed up and offered a ride, but they never discussed the ride after that. Life proceeded on a strict ride-by-ride basis.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Epilogue-Like Part, Two Months Later, with Bathtubs
“I have a surprise for you,” Allie said, the moment she hopped into Bea’s van.
“Before or after I drop you off at the shelter?”
Allie had been volunteering three hours a day at a homeless shelter since school had let out for the summer. It hadn’t exactly been her idea. Volunteerism was encouraged in her foster home. But it hadn’t been a bad idea, either. Plus Bea had driven her there and back every time, which Allie thought was worth the price of admission in itself.
“Neither one,” Allie said. “We’re not even going there today. My last day there was yesterday.”
“Oh. You didn’t tell me. So where are we going?”
“My house. And you get to take a bath in a nice, deep tub. Just like you always wanted. Just like I promised you that day in Monterey.”
“Wait,” Bea said. But, paradoxically, she pulled away from the curb as she said it. “How are we supposed to get into your house?”
“Through the door. My mom is home!” Allie heard her own voice rise to an odd squeal as she said it. “My social worker was supposed to drive me there officially this afternoon. But Julie said this was okay. My mom got some kind of early release. My mom and dad found out it might take a year or more to get me back, even after they got out of jail. So my dad changed his story and put the whole thing on himself. Said my mom didn’t even know about the tax stuff. She’s been home a few days, but she had to get this hotshot lawyer. She had to have him to cut through some legal process to get custody again. Normally that can take months. Even years. You know. If a kid got pulled from a home because of abuse. But in this case it was pretty fast, because . . . you know. Money. And because legally she’s sort of . . . innocent now, all of a sudden. Like, wrongly convicted. I don’t know. It was all very strange.”
Allie stopped to pull a breath after all those words.
“So,” Bea said after a time, “you kept this from me because . . . ?”
“I only just found out that it worked. That the judge ruled in her favor. Besides. If I’d told you, it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”
“Right. Silly me. What about your dad?”
“He’s in for probably another two years at least.”
“Sorry to hear that. So . . . I hate to even ask this, but it seems to need asking. How does your mom feel about me coming in and taking a bath?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
Bea stepped on the brake too hard, and Allie lurched forward and hit the tether of her seat belt.
“You haven’t even told her about me?”
“Relax, Bea. Trust me on this. I have everything under control.”
Before Allie could even open her mouth, her mom grabbed her in a bear hug. She seemed not to have noticed the older woman standing behind Allie on the porch. She seemed disinclined to let Allie go again.
In time her mom pulled back, her hands holding Allie’s face, and regarded her daughter closely. Allie studied her mother’s face in return. Her hair was cut strikingly short now, which felt like a shock. She seemed to have more lines in her forehead and around her eyes. And her eyes themselves looked different, though Allie could not have summed up in words exactly how they had changed.
And it was like a wonderful dream to see her again. And there were emotions surrounding it, big ones, but they all seemed to be hiding behind a wall where Allie couldn’t quite get to them. Maybe it would just take time.
“Mom,” Allie said, “this is Bea.”
Her mom raised her eyes and looked past Allie. Her face fell.
“Bea is going to come in and take a bath,” Allie added. “Okay?”
A silence, which only lasted a second or two, but felt heavy and wrong.
Allie reached back and took hold of Bea’s elbow. Together they marched into the foyer.
“Actually,” Allie said, “there’s more. Bea’s going to be living with us now. In the guest room. Bea, go out to the van and get the cat.”
“Wait,” Allie’s mother said. “Wait, wait, wait. You can’t bring a cat into this house.”
“Why can’t we?”
“Your father is allergic.”
“My father is in prison for two more years at least.”
“Right. And then he’ll be back. And he’s allergic to cats.”
“Mom. The cat is eighteen years old.”
“Oh.” And with that, her mom seemed to run out of steam.
Meanwhile Bea stood behind Allie on the Persian rug of the foyer, uncharacteristically silent.
“So, it’s all set. Bea and the cat will be living in the guest room.”
“Honey. Can I talk to you privately?”
“No. No, Mom. Anything you can say to me you can say in front of my grandmother.”
“Allie. Honey. I’m your mom. I know all your grandparents. Remember? If someone is your relative, I would know.”
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make any difference, Mom. I don’t care that she’s not actually related to us. Look, I know I’m telling you how it’s going to be. Not exactly asking. But you fell out on me, Mom. I’m sorry, but I needed somebody and you weren’t there. And Bea was there. And she didn’t let me down, and I’m not letting her down now. So, Bea. Go get the cat.”
They all three stood a moment in that stunning silence.
Then Allie’s mom spoke up.
“Okay,” she said. “For right now at least . . . I guess . . . go get the cat.”
Allie lay on the guest room bed instead of her own, poking at the feeling of the familiarity of home. She almost might never have been gone. The whole last few months could have been a dream. But no, it couldn’t have been, because Allie was not the person who had lived here before. And in most respects that was good.
“So is that everything you ever wanted in a tub?” she asked when Bea stepped out of the guest bathroom.
“All that and more,” Bea said, toweling her hair dry. “In every way the bathtub of my dreams. Where’s your mom?”
“Downstairs in the living room. Crying. And being shocked. While you were taking your bath I told her the whole story. Everything that happened to me.”