A Long Walk Home. Diane Amos

and boost Summer’s mood, I asked, “Would you like blueberries in your pancakes or do you prefer them plain?”

      She lowered her head. “You don’t need to go to all that bother. Coffee will do.”

      What kind of breakfast was that for a growing child? Did she skip breakfast most mornings? “It’s no bother. I like to cook.”

      “Yeah, right. I hope you don’t expect me to do the dishes and all that cleaning up shit.”

      I winced at her language. “I hate doing dishes, too. That’s why I have a dishwasher.”

      A look of satisfaction claimed her face as she shrugged and dropped into a chair.

      I remembered Tony’s conversation with her, and I didn’t want Summer to consider herself a burden. “I might have gone a little overboard on preparing for your arrival because I was so excited. I had such a good time shopping that I couldn’t stop myself, so if you don’t like something, feel free to say so. I only wish you were here under happier circumstances. After your mom’s better, I hope you can come see me every few months.”

      She lifted her right shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.

      I tried a new subject. “Oh, Tony’s daughter, Chelsea, is about your age. She’s invited you to hang out with her and her friends at the mall this afternoon.”

      “Why’d she want to do that?” she asked, suspicion darkening her eyes.

      “She thought it would be cool to hang out with someone from L.A.”

      “Oh.”

      I’d expected her to refuse. Oh sounded promising. “So will you go?”

      “Maybe.” Her lips twitched, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth.

      More progress.

      “I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

      “You don’t need to do that.”

      “I want to. The other girls will want to shop for clothes, and I thought you would, too.”

      “I got plenty of clothes.”

      That was a matter of opinion.

      Why was I so judgmental around Summer?

      Because I cared, deeply. “You can still take the cash in case you find a CD or something else you can’t live without.”

      Her wary gaze met mine. “What do you want from me in exchange?”

      “I want you to have a good time while you’re here.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      “I mean it. Do you remember how much fun we had the last time you were here?”

      A faraway look came into her eyes. “No.”

      Disappointed, I forced a smile. “I’m surprised you don’t remember, we had such a great time.”

      Directing a stony gaze at me, she said nothing.

      I glanced down and adjusted the dial on the electric frying pan. “So what’ll it be, plain or blueberry pancakes?”

      “Can I have some of both?”

      “Coming right up.”

      A few minutes later I placed a stack of pancakes on a plate in the center of the table along with a half gallon of milk and two glasses of orange juice. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair nearest Summer. “Help yourself.”

      She slid three pancakes onto her plate.

      I took two and handed her the syrup.

      She drenched her pancakes and put a large bite into her mouth. She polished off her serving before I’d eaten half of mine.

      “Can I have those, too?” she asked, her fork poised over the dish.

      “They’re there to eat.”

      Needing no more encouragement, Summer ate the last few pancakes. Some time later she wiped her mouth with the paper napkin beside her plate. “I lied to you earlier. I do remember the last time I was here. We had a blast.”

      Her comment took me off guard. “We certainly did.”

      “I ran after the seagulls when they stole my bag of cookies,” she said with a giggle that reminded me of the child she’d been.

      “I have a picture on my mantel of you feeding the gulls French fries on the pier.”

      “I noticed it when I first arrived. I was surprised you still had it.”

      I reached for her hand, and she didn’t pull away. “I’ve missed you.”

      “Yeah, well…” She looked uneasy and unsure how to reply.

      We’d made progress.

      Hope blossomed inside me.

      I wanted to tell her how much I cared and worried about her. But Summer freed her hand and frowned, the closeness between us vanishing.

      I wanted Summer’s outing with Chelsea to go well. But I was concerned about my niece’s ability to pepper most sentences with obscenities. I had no idea how to broach the subject without causing us to drift further apart.

      But I had to try.

      Later that day I knocked on Summer’s bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

      “Suit yourself. It’s your house.”

      I walked into the bedroom and saw Summer standing with her back to me, her plastic bag on the bed, some of its contents spread out in front of her—most of the clothing black with the exception of the few T-shirts I’d purchased. Summer wore a black skirt that reached mid-calf, ripped fishnet stockings, the same clunky boots and a black long-sleeve shirt with holes in the elbows.

      My heart fell toward my stomach like a rock. What did I expect? Summer in a prom gown?

      Accept her as she is.

      Easier said than done.

      How would Chelsea and her friends react when they first saw Summer? Chelsea was a cute girl, five foot five, straight brown hair that brushed her shoulders. She often wore low-slung jeans and cropped tops that showed off her pierced belly button.

      When Summer turned, I was pleased to see she’d removed most of the white from her face. She’d left behind a thin layer that made her look deathly pale, but the hint of flesh tone was there.

      Under her shirt I spotted a wedge of the pink top I’d bought poking from the unbuttoned collar. The bright color reflected a rosy glow against her chin.

      “You look nice,” I said.

      She glanced down and shrugged, seemingly uncomfortable with the compliment. Around her wrists she wore thick leather bracelets with metal prongs. I thought of the charm bracelet in my purse and realized how out of place it would look on her.

      “I’ll be right back,” I said, running down the stairs, fetching the box from my purse, and heading back into Summer’s room.

      “I bought this for you because I had one when I was your age. But I know it isn’t your style. While you’re at the mall, you can return it for something you like.”

      She took the box and looked down at the package for a long time.

      “Aren’t you going to open it?”

      Her gaze strayed across the room. “I saw you ditch this yesterday when you saw what I looked like. I figured you were disappointed.”

      “I was a little surprised,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Well, make that a lot surprised.”

      She rolled her eyes.

      “And of course, you’ve changed…a lot.” Keep it up and she’ll be escaping out