A PLACE TO CALL HOME
ADRIEN LEDUC
Copyright 2011. Adrien Leduc. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you forrespecting the hard work of this author.
For Jenica, my beautiful, brown-eyed "Irish" girl who has never stopped believing in me and whose smile always brightens my day
AND
For everyone searching for a place to call "home"
Copyright 2011 by Adrien Leduc
(Leduc, Adrien 1987- )
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
MIDNIGHT ESCAPE
On a cool October night in Pickering's Liverpool neighbourhood, two figures could be seen hurrying down the walkway of 212 Primrose Crescent. A dog in the front window had his paws on the glass and was howling loudly after them.
"Hurry Ron!" hissed Sarah, the older one.
"I'm trying!" replied Ron angrily, wincing every time he took a step with his left foot.
Sarah doubled back and wrapped an arm around her foster brother's shoulders. "There, now just put your arm around my neck."
Ron consented and put his left arm around Sarah's neck so that half his weight now rested on her.
"There, now just hop with your good foot!"
Ron dutifully began to hop using his right foot. After a minute though, he stopped, out of breath and feeling as though he might vomit. He bent in half and touched his head to his knees. "This is too tiring Sair," he panted. He gripped his ankle and inhaled sharply. "I can't do this all the way to the store."
"Ohhhh," Sarah moaned, looking back at the Smolinski house. It was still dark - but it wouldn't be for long - not with Bowser barking up such a storm.
"Try to take smaller hops."
Ron grimaced painfully as he stood upright. "Okay - but I still can't make it all the way to the store. That's like - ten blocks."
"Okay...we'll skip the store then," said Sarah, her mind racing as she searched for a solution. "We'll skip the store and...we'll hide at Mrs. Whittaker's! In the tree house! Yes! And then we'll wait until it's safe and we'll take a taxi to the train station."
"Okay. I think I can make it to Mrs. Whittaker's."
Bowser's barking grew fainter as they neared the end of Primrose Crescent. Hank and Gloria would surely be awake by now - as would half the neighbourhood. It would only be a matter of time before Hank came after them. And if he brought Bowser...
Sarah shuddered as she thought of the Smolinski's ugly Rottweiler. If he wasn't snarling at them, he was chewing on their shoes or slobbering on their clothes. When they were home, he locked a suspicious eye on them and followed them everywhere. If Ron or Sarah ever dared to shoo him away he would bark until Hank came and inspected. Worse still, when it came to tracking - Bowser was like a Bloodhound.
Sarah flexed the arm that was wrapped around Ron's shoulders, ignoring the burn in her bicep. "It's just a bit further little brother. You can do it."
They walked, hopped, and staggered to the end of Primrose Crescent and turned onto Dixie Road. Mrs. Cornelia ("Cora" for short) Whittaker lived at the end of the block and it was there that Ron and Sarah had spent most of the summer with her grandchildren, Tom and Julia. With the help of Tom and Julia's uncle, Charles ("Chuck"), they'd helped construct an impressive tree house in the backyard. For Ron and Sarah, that tree house had become a veritable sanctuary, a place of comfort and security far removed from the disorder and dysfunction of the Smolinski residence.
In the distance, Bowser's barking seemed to be growing louder. "Faster Ron," Sarah pleaded, glancing over her shoulder.
How long until Hank came after them?
"I'm trying," answered Ron breathlessly, tightening his arm around Sarah's neck.
They were nearly there. Sarah strained as hard as she could, willing the muscles in her arms and neck to cooperate. Ron felt like he was getting heavier by the minute and she fixed her eyes on Mrs. Whittaker's pink bungalow. It seemed to be calling them. A light shone dimly in the living room window and Sarah wondered if she might still be awake.
Should they knock on the door? Should she tell Mrs. Whittaker how awful their lives were at the Smolinski's?
Sarah quickly expelled the idea.
She'd never believe them. No one ever did.
The foster siblings hopped along in the darkness, their feet pounding against the pavement. There weren't many street lights in Pickering and Sarah was always nervous walking home, in the black of night, after making a delivery for Hank. On this night however that darkness was their protection - and Sarah was grateful.
Ron's bony forearm pressed painfully against the back of her neck, but she shrugged off her discomfort and focused on the path ahead.
Just one more block, she told herself. Sarah could practically see inside the mouth of the yawning lawn gnome that stood at the edge of Mrs. Whittaker's front yard.
Surely by now Hank had discovered they had gone. How long until he came after them?
As though answering her thoughts, she suddenly heard Hank's voice in the distance. Bowser's barking had stopped. "Ronald! Sarah!" Faint as it was - the voice was still recognizable. Especially when it sounded so angry - as it usually did.
He called their names again. Louder this time. "RONALD! SARAH!"
Was he calling them from the house or was he already headed their way? Did he have Bowser with him?
"Quick Sarah! If - he - catches - us."
Sarah realized that in her fear - she had slowed down - almost stopping completely.
"Let's move Sair!"
The urgency in Ron's voice sparked a fire in her and she pushed forwards, clutching her foster brother even more tightly than before. Her brow scrunched firmly in concentration, she shook off the burning sensation in her arms and legs and focused on her breathing. Behind them a dog barked.
Bowser.
There were now just fifty metres separating them from the tree house. Sarah could see its silhouette, rising above the hedges that flanked Mrs. Whittaker's backyard.
They could make it.
Her throat was bone dry, but she found her voice. "Come on Ron! We're almost there!"
Thirty metres.
"RONALD! SARAH!"
Hank's voice was getting louder - and closer. Sarah felt a jolt of adrenaline rush through her and with a strength that belied her skinny frame, she threw Ron over her shoulder and sprinted the final distance. At the hedges, she lowered Ron to the ground and pushed him through the narrow gap that Tom and Julia had shown them. Dropping to her hands and knees, Sarah followed him through. The branches scratched her face and poked her eyes, but after a minute she was through and lying beside Ron on a grassy knoll in Mrs. Whittaker's backyard. A few meters to their left, the towering elm tree loomed over them.
"Quick Ron! Up!"
Bowser's barking had grown much louder by that point and it was almost deafening by the time they made it to the narrow rope ladder that hung at the foot of the tree. Sarah helped Ron secure his foot onto the first rung and together they ascended to the tree house.
"SARAH! RONALD!"
Hank's voice was certainly closer than it had been before. Had he seen them?
She didn't want to think about what would happen if they were caught.
inside the tree house the foster siblings collapsed onto the wide straw bales that served as benches, shaking and sucking in great lungfuls of air.
"Did - he - see - us?" asked Ron between breaths.
"I - don't - know," panted Sarah in reply. "I - hope - not."
While Ron lay on his back slowly recovering, Sarah positioned herself so that she could peek through a hole in the wood plank wall. From her vantage point she had a perfect view of the backyard. When she saw the top of Hank's head bobbing just above Mrs. Whittaker's hedges, she froze. In front of him she spied Bowser growling and pawing at the gap they had come through just a few minutes before.
"There's a good boy," she heard Hank say. The tone of his voice sounded both wicked and delighted, and his words brought goose bumps to her arms. "You find them boy, you find them. Find Ron and Sarah for daddy."
In the next instant, everything happened at once. Bowser, barking and dragging his leash, burst through the hedges and shot towards the rope ladder. Next, Hank, swearing and cursing loudly, broke his way through the branches and fell onto the grass. A second later, a light came on, casting a bright, yellow glow throughout the yard.
"What's happening?" Ron mouthed, his face pale and sweating.
Sarah put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to be silent.
The back door connecting the porch to the house squeaked open loudly and Sarah saw Tom and Julia's grandmother emerge, as tall and stern-looking as ever.
"Mrs. Whittaker!" Sarah heard Hank exclaim. His tone was one of surprise and she could tell by his face that he was not pleased.
Bowser meanwhile barked loudly at the base of the tree.
"Hank Smolinski," the old woman answered as she strode out to the edge of her balcony and into the light. Enshrouded in the yellow glow of the porch light, Sarah thought she looked like someone sent from the heavens.
"To what do I owe this visit - and at such a late hour I might add."
Sarah detected an iciness in Mrs. Whittaker's voice that she had heard only a few times before.
"Oh...well...I," Hank spluttered. "Bowser took off after a squirrel - and pulled me right into your backyard. Crazy mutt."
"Did he? That's mighty odd. I can assure you that there are no squirrels in my yard," she said, flicking her eyes towards the tree house. Had she seen them?
"Moreover," she continued, looking once again at Hank, "if there were any squirrels in my backyard, Bowser would certainly not be welcome to harm them. Those squirrels keep the crows out of my garden better than any scarecrow and so they're welcome anytime."
"Of course...of course," answered Hank. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you. You were probably trying to sleep."
"Sleep?" scoffed the old woman. "Why I find that the most interesting things happen during the evening hours. Don't you Hank?"
She cast a glance once more at the tree house and there was not a shred of doubt in Sarah's mind that Mrs. Whittaker had discovered them.
The only question now was, would she tell Hank?
"Er...yes...I suppose," he said, turning to look at the elm tree as Bowser growled and pawed at its trunk. Hank looked up at the tree house and Sarah withdrew her eye from the spy hole.
"Would you mind if I took a look in - "
"I know Charles shares my sentiments too," Cora Whittaker said loudly, the tone of her voice drawing Hank's attention away from the tree house. "He called me earlier today and told me that last night they'd caught a group of men preparing to rob a bank. Like I said, interesting things happen when normal folk go to bed."
Hank coughed uncomfortably. "Yes...I suppose you're right about that. How is Chuck by the way? It's been awhile since I've spoken to him."
Sarah watched as Mrs. Whittaker moved closer to the edge of her balcony so that she now stood over Hank like a judge. "Well, as it so happens, this month marks his twentieth year with the force. He'll be receiving an award from the Toronto Police Service at a special banquet in November. Who would have imagined that the smallest boy on the Lester B. Pearson football team would end up being a police captain, eh?"
"Not me," Hank said, forcing a laugh. "I honestly can't count the number of times I had to scrape your son off the field during a game."
Sarah found Hank's "nice-guy" routine more sickening than usual. Perhaps because this time it was happening to someone she cared about.
"BOWSER!"
Hank's loud interruption caused Sarah to nearly fall off the straw bale. She managed to regain her balance though and she returned to spying through the hole in the tree house wall.
" - I would appreciate it if he didn't claw my beautiful elm to bits. Billy planted that, you know, when we first bought this property."
"I'm very sorry Mrs. Whittaker."
"Oh, there's no need to apologize. Animals will be animals. I guess it helps if it's got a responsible owner though - but there are no guarantees in life."
Hank ignored the sting of her remark. "I mean...I'm sorry about Mr. Whittaker's passing. I never did get a chance to pay my respects."
Sarah watched the old woman put a hand to her heart. "Thank you Hank. That's very thoughtful."
Sarah had never seen Hank look as uncomfortable as he did now and she wanted to savour this moment.
"Er...yes...anyways...I really should get going...it's quite late and tomorrow's a busy day. Say 'hello' to Chuck for me when you see him next - and congratulate him on his big award."
"Why don't you do it yourself? Come by and have a drink with us. He'll be here on the weekend at some point."
"Oh that's...we're...we're busy this weekend Mrs. Whittaker. Gloria's got this thing to go to and the kids are playing in a soccer tournament (Sarah's eyes narrowed at this lie) and so yeah...it's just a busy time for us...but another time for sure."
"Oh that's too bad. Another time then."
Hank nodded and Sarah saw him pull Bowser away from the tree once more.
"Anyways Mrs. Whittaker. It's been great talking with you, but I've got to get home now and put this boy to bed," he added, chuckling softly.
Sarah cringed.
"Yes, I suppose dogs need their sleep just like the rest of us."
Sarah grinned from ear to ear, sure that Mrs. Whittaker had intended the double entendre.
"Yes, they do," said Hank stiffly.
"Alright. Stop by and say 'hi' sometime - only next time just come to the front door. It's much easier for me."
Despite the lack of light, Sarah was certain she saw Hank's ears redden.
"Yes, I'll just come to the front next time."
"Excellent. Well, good night then," Cora Whittaker said cheerfully. "Oh and give my regards to Gloria and the kids for me too would you? It's been ages since I've seen them."
"Will do," he said, making his way to the gate.
"Good night Hank."
"Good night Mrs. Whittaker."
Sarah heard the gate slam shut and she listened intently as the sound of his footsteps slowly disappeared. After a few seconds of silence, a voice called out to them: "You can come down now children - he's gone."
Chapter Two
MRS. WHITTAKER
"Now did you two get enough to eat?" asked Cora Whittaker as she cleared the table.
Ron and Sarah nodded.
"Yes Mrs. Whittaker, thanks."
"Good. As Billy used to say, there's nothing worse than being hungry."
William Whittaker - or Billy as he was affectionately known - was Cora's late husband. He'd passed away the year before and while Sarah had never met him, she felt bad for Mrs. Whittaker because that meant she had to live on her own. Sarah looked around the kitchen as Ron helped the elderly woman rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. Not much had changed since that evening in late August when they had shared a "last supper" with Tom and Julia -a giant homemade pizza topped with all their favourite fixings.
"I'll bet you two miss Tom and Julia," said Cora Whittaker once the dishwasher was turned on and humming gently.
"Yeah. A lot."
"Well they'll be back next summer - but I suppose that's a long time to wait when you're young," she added with a chuckle. She finished wiping down the counter and sat down at the table.
"Pour yourself another glass of milk there Ron and come and join us."
"Okay."
As Ron hopped towards the fridge and set about pouring a second glass of milk, the elderly woman turned her attention to Sarah. "So, now that we've eaten and calmed down a little bit - tell me what's been going on at the Smolinski household."
Sarah didn't know where to begin - but it felt good to finally encounter an adult who was willing to listen to her - and believe her - and so she began with the very first time they'd met Hank and Gloria (and Bowser). It had been a warm day in May and their social worker, Theresa, was in particularly high spirits. She had spent the entire drive to the Smolinski's gushing about how nice of a couple they were and raving about the pool in their backyard, the sauna in the basement and all the other exciting amenities. And Sarah had to admit that Hank and Gloria had been very kind and generous - well for the first week anyway. However, by the following weekend they had quickly revealed their true colours - and they weren't pretty. Criminals, the Smolinski's manufactured counterfeit money and were members of the Redcoats - a prominent biker gang based in Durham County. The couple - well Hank mostly because Gloria was most often shopping or sunbathing by the pool - used Ron and Sarah to deliver counterfeit money to their associates in Pickering and the Greater Toronto Area. In this way Ron and Sarah had served as "money mules" for the Smolinski's. Hank liked that they were young and didn't raise suspicions when making deliveries and Sarah suspected that this was the sole reason the Smolinski's had become foster parents. At first, missing school to make deliveries for Hank wasn't all that bad - but after a month Sarah had grown tired of it. There was a never-ending list of deliveries to be made and that meant Sarah had no time to do assignments and study for tests. The worst part however wasn't her failing grades - it was the beatings. The beatings started about a month after they'd moved in. Ron, ashamed, looked at the floor as Sarah recounted how Gloria would often strap her with a leather belt and how Hank would wail on Ron. She explained that he had pushed Ron down the stairs in a fit of rage earlier that day, nearly breaking Ron's ankle. This was the final straw for Sarah and she decided that they needed to get out. She had called Child Services before to complain about the horrid conditions at the Smolinski household - but they never believed her. The one time that their social worker did come to perform an inspection - Hank and Gloria turned on the charm and acted so concerned that Theresa told Sarah she was "crazy."
Sarah described their situation with such intensity and in such detail that Cora Whittaker found herself with no choice but to believe the skinny teenager seated in front of her - no matter how farfetched her story seemed.
When Sarah had finished speaking, Cora Whittaker shook her head in disbelief. "I always knew Hank wasn't an angel - but I never could have imagined that he'd be involved in stuff like this! You know, he and Charles were friends growing up - well until the tenth grade at least. At some point that year they had a falling out over a girl or something...I forget what the situation was precisely...that was so long ago now...but anyways, they had a falling out and never really spoke much after that. Hank and Charles both graduated in eighty-seven. His mother used to attend our church and I'd heard from her that he had plans to attend university - and that was about it. Mrs. Smolinski passed away in ninety-eight and Mr. Smolinski went the year after. Hank inherited some money and married Gloria a few years later. That would be about...oh...two thousand and two or two thousand and three. Anyways, I remember Billy coming home from the pub one night - he and his golfing buddies used to go to the pub to watch all the big tournaments - and he said to me, 'Cora, guess who I saw at O'Reilly's tonight?' and I asked 'Who?' and he told me he'd seen Hank and that he and Hank had chatted briefly. It had been quite a few years since we'd seen Hank - apparently he'd been away in Mexico or Costa Rica or something. Anyways, Hank told Billy that he was getting married to a girl by the name of Gloria Schmidt. Now Billy was intrigued by that because he was pretty sure that she was the daughter of a Schmidt that used to work for him. Man by the name of Gill Schmidt. Billy had to fire him after he discovered that he'd been stealing from the company to feed a gambling habit. But this was years ago and Billy wasn't entirely sure if the Gloria was this man's daughter or not - but he seemed to think so. Anyways, that being said, when Tom and Julia brought you two here for the first time, I was shocked to hear that the Smolinski's had fostered you. I took that as a sign that Hank was turning his life around. I guess I was wrong."
Sarah nodded grimly while Cora Whittaker sat back in her chair to reflect further on the matter. "Just wait until Charles hears of this. He'll pass this information on to the Durham police and they'll be on those two like -"
"No!" Sarah cried. "You can't say anything! Especially not to your son Mrs. Whittaker...not yet anyways."
"Why?"
"Because we need to find my dad first. If the police find out about Hank and Gloria, Child Services will just take us back to the group home...and that's if they even believe us! We could end up back with Hank and Gloria!"
"Dear child," huffed Cora Whittaker, "the police will most certainly believe what you have to say. I'll make sure of that!"
"Well so what then!" shouted Sarah defiantly. "All that means is that we'll end up in another foster home...and I'm sick and tired of foster families! I want to live with my dad...and Ron wants to come too."
The old woman sighed loudly. "I understand Sarah, but in this situation -"
"No, Mrs. Whittaker. Please, I have to find my dad first. Then once we're living with him, you can tell your son and go to the police and tell them everything. We'll even come with you and be witnesses."
"Sarah - "
"Please."
"Good grief, girl!" Cora Whittaker snapped. "Where is your dad anyways? I thought you were an orphan."
"My mom's dead but my dad's still alive. He lives in Toronto."
"Whereabouts in Toronto?"
"I don't know - somewhere downtown."
Mrs. Whittaker looked at her with a bemused expression. "Somewhere downtown? You mean you don't even know where he lives?"
"Well no...not exactly...but I know where he works! That's where I'm going to go and meet him. I have his business card."
"Have you spoken to him recently?"
"Yes," Sarah lied, nodding her head. "Just last week in fact. I talked to him on the phone last weekend - he said that we could come and stay with him." She hated lying - especially to Mrs. Whittaker. But she couldn't go back to the group home. She wouldn't.
Cora Whittaker looked from Sarah to Ron and back at Sarah. "Okay. But he has to pick you up here. And I want to speak with him beforehand."
"He can't pick us up," said Sarah, thinking quickly. "He doesn't have a car."
"He can take the train then."
"He's too busy. He works every day."
The old woman frowned. "What does he do that he's so busy?"
"He's an accountant."
Cora Whittaker stared squarely at Sarah. "You're fourteen years old my dear - "
"I'm almost fifteen! I'll be fifteen in April!"
"Please let me finish. You are fourteen years old. That's much too young to go off wandering around the city to look for your dad - and to think that you would be responsible for your younger brother as well...," she sighed, casting an eye towards Ron as he sipped his milk, "...and with the state he's in - he can hardly walk for heaven's sake!"
"Please. Mrs. Whittaker. You don't understand. And I -"
"I understand perfectly well dear girl!" the old woman said sharply. "You two need to be in the care of a responsible adult. You will sleep here tonight and in the morning I'm calling the police and I'm calling Child Services."
"But Mrs. Whittaker!"
"No buts Sarah! Too many adults have let you down already and I'm not about to add myself to that list!" she shouted, slapping her hand on the table. "The responsible thing to do is to get you two somewhere safe and have the Smolinski's put behind bars."
"But - "
"Sarah. That's enough. I think it's time we all went to bed. We'll get a good night's sleep and in the morning this whole thing will look a little better. Okay?"
She stood up before Sarah could respond. "You two can wash up in the bathroom (she motioned towards a door just off the kitchen) while I go and make up your beds in Tom's and Julia's rooms. Okay? I don't want any more arguing," she finished by giving Sarah a long, stern look.
Sarah knew the discussion was over and decided not to pursue it any further. Mrs. Whittaker obviously had no interest in helping her find her dad - and she resolved to do it on her own.
"Okay," said Sarah quietly.
"Good. Now I'm going to go and make your beds up while you two get ready. There are face cloths and towels in the cubby in the bathroom. And new toothbrushes in the drawer under the sink. I want lights out in fifteen minutes."
Ron and Sarah nodded.
With that Cora Whittaker left the room and trudged up the stairs.
"Ron!" Sarah whispered when she was sure that the old woman was out of earshot.
"What?"
"We have to go. Tonight."
He moaned. "Sair."
"Ron."
"I'm so tired I can't even keep my head up - and all that running made my ankle hurt even more!"
"I know Ron," she said soothingly. "I know. But we have no choice. Mrs. Whittaker is going to turn us over to Child Services! And then we'll end up back in another home just like the Smolinski's! And that's if they even choose to believe us. We might end up back at the Smolinski's! We have no proof about Hank and Gloria! They have Child Services completely fooled and you know it. Do you really want to go back and living with them!?"
Ron played with his wrist watch while he deliberated.
"Okay," he said after nearly a minute. He looked into Sarah's eyes. "But don't complain if I can't go as fast as you."
"Oh Ron!" she said, smiling and squeezing him tightly.
"Okay, okay...sister cooties," pulling away. "What's your plan?"
"Well we'll have to get a taxi...that's obvious because of your ankle. We'll leave early in the morning - before Mrs. Whittaker gets up...around five or so. We'll go to the train station...I have both our passes in my bag..and we'll take the first train to Toronto...I think it's at six o'clock."
Ron nodded and Sarah continued.
"So we'll go to bed...you can sleep for a few hours...wrap the ice pack around your ankle like Mrs. Whittaker showed you - hopefully that'll fix it...and I'll come and wake you around five. Okay?"
"I guess."
"No you 'guess', little brother...it'll work. Trust me."
"Whatever you say. Let me go to bed now. I'm tired."
Sarah smiled. "Alright, go and wash up and then get to bed."
While Ron washed his face and changed into a pair of Tom's pajamas, Sarah took the phone book and the portable phone from the small bureau in the kitchen. When it was her turn to use the bathroom she carried the phone book and the phone into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the shower. She made a chair of the toilet and looked up the number for "A-1 Cabs". She found it after a few minutes of searching, and dialed. An operator picked up on the second ring.
"A-1 Cabs."
"Yes, hello," said Sarah, making sure that she was loud enough to be heard over the shower but quiet enough so as not to be heard by Mrs. Whittaker. "I need a cab for 341 Dixie Road at 5 a.m."
She heard the woman rustling some papers. "Okay. And where are you headed?"
"To the Go Train station."
There was a pause. "Okay. 5 a.m. there'll be a cab waiting for you."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Bye."
"Good bye."
Sarah switched off the portable and placed it on top of the phone book. Next she undressed and showered quickly. When she was finished she changed back into her clothes and gave herself a once over in the mirror. She'd never liked her ears - they were too small and didn't "fit" her head - so she usually kept them covered with her shoulder-length, auburn hair. She loved her hair. It had a red tint - which was obviously from her mom - and was the brown from her dad? Having never even seen a picture of him, she had no idea what his hair colour was. Mind you, she'd be seeing him soon - so that mystery would be revealed. She took a face cloth and scrubbed at a wannabe zit. She hated zits - and she rarely got them - but when she did, they stuck out like crazy. After combing her hair - she found a "clean" brush in one of the drawers - she threw her facecloth and towel into the laundry hamper and tiptoed into the kitchen. She listened to see if Mrs. Whittaker was nearby. When she was satisfied that she was alone in the kitchen, she moved quickly towards the little desk under the wine rack and replaced the portable and the phone book. That done, she quietly removed a box of crackers from the pantry. She hated stealing - but it was a good idea to bring a snack for the road. With the box of crackers stuffed under her sweater, she made her way up the stairs. She heard Mrs. Whittaker across the hall - in Tom's room. She was speaking to Ron and Sarah turned into Julia's room and stuffed the box of crackers into her bag.
Julia's room was spacious, with a desk in one corner, a bed in the other and a large closet that ran the length of one wall. The bright pink walls were heavily plastered with photographs and posters and Sarah happily recalled the evenings they'd spent putting them up. Sarah lay down on the bed just as Mrs. Whittaker knocked.
"Sarah?"
"Yeah. Come in."
"All ready for bed then?"
The old woman glanced at Sarah with a quizzical expression. "You know you don't have to sleep in your jeans dear girl. Julia's got plenty of pajamas and night wear that you can borrow."
Sarah watched as she strode over to the closet and pulled it open. She flicked a few hangers aside and selected a white, cotton night gown.
"Here - try this on."
Sarah didn't want to change out of her street clothes - that would mean one more thing to do in the morning - but she also resolved that it was best to avoid giving Mrs. Whittaker any reason to be suspicious and so she decided to play along. "Uh...thanks."
"You're most welcome Sarah. Now," she paused, "I want you both to get a good night's sleep. You and Ron have had a very stressful evening and I want you to be clear-minded and refreshed for tomorrow. It'll be a busy day and we'll all have to be patient and so I want you both to be at your best."
"I understand Mrs. Whittaker. Thank you."
"Okay. I'm glad that you're finally coming around Sarah. In adult situations, sometimes you just have to let adults make the decisions. Responsible and caring adults. Not like that filth you were living with," she said, frowning deeply. She looked at Sarah and her expression softened.
"You're a smart girl and a brave one to boot - but you've done enough. You're safe now and we'll get everything squared up tomorrow and hopefully we can get you into a new home where you'll both get the love that you deserve."
Sarah felt her cheeks flush and she wanted to tell Mrs. Whittaker what she really thought. That the Smolinski's would just tell Child Services that they made it all up, that Sarah was on medication and had been to see a counselor (which was true). It would be just like in all those TV movies where everyone thinks the person is crazy and doesn't believe them - until it's too late. Hank and Gloria had fooled Child Services the first time and they certainly could a second time. There was no way she would ever return there - and she wouldn't let them take Ron back either.
She took a breath and smiled sweetly. "You're absolutely right Mrs. Whittaker. I guess sometimes I just figure that no one cares about Ron and I and that I can only rely on myself." She paused for effect. "So I appreciate what you're doing for us and I know that everything will work out okay."
Her kind words were not lost on the old woman. "Why thank you Sarah. And I'm glad you're finally starting to see sense. I've always said that you were a bright girl and that Julia is so lucky to have you as a friend."
She glanced at the clock beside the bed. "Heaven's look at the time. Almost one in the morning. Quick, let's get you into bed. You two can sleep as late as you want tomorrow - I won't disturb you."
"Thanks."
"Good night Sarah."
"Good night Mrs. Whittaker."
The old woman left the room and shut the door behind her. Sarah waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear downstairs, and then set Julia's alarm clock for 4:45 a.m. She hoped that would give her enough time to get her and Ron out the door by five. Ron was right across the hall - so getting to him wouldn't be a problem - it was the waking-Ron-up part that worried her.
She hung Julia's night gown back in the closet, switched off the light and crawled into bed. After tossing and turning for several minutes her thoughts drifted to her mother. She'd been dead for five years already - almost a third of Sarah's life. With her beautiful smile and cayenne-red hair - she'd looked like a movie star. Until she got cancer. Within a year, the radiation and chemotherapy had taken their toll. The image of her mother during her final days flashed before her...that sunken face...that leathery skin...her beautiful hair practically gone. Sarah reached for her necklace - her mother's necklace - and opened the locket containing her mother's picture. There she was. That eye-catching red hair. Those beautiful, blue eyes. That perfect smile. Sarah closed the locket and put the necklace back on. Finally, she took hold of one of Julia's plush giraffes, sighed, and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Three
FREE AT LAST!
She awoke with a start. "Love Me Lots" by Brittany Shears was playing on the radio. Where was she? The events of last night slowly came back to her and she vividly recalled their narrow escape from Bowser and Hank Smolinski. She glanced at the clock.
4:45.
Perfect. She switched it off and leapt out of bed. Without making a sound, she gathered her things and stuffed pillows under the blankets so that it appeared as though there was a "body" in the bed. That done, she crept out of the room and shut the door softly behind her. Sarah tiptoed across the hallway and opened the door to Ron's (Tom's) room.
"Ron," she whispered.
He was fast asleep. She walked over to the bed and shook her brother gently.
He mumbled something and rolled over.
"Ron," she said, louder this time.
"Wha - "
"It's time to go."
Ron rolled over so that he faced her.
"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Five a.m. The taxi should be here any minute. Come on, we have to go."
Sarah helped a sleepy Ron ("pushed" would be the better word) out of bed. Next she stuffed pillows under the bed covers as she had done in her room and then made sure his bag was packed and zipped up tight.
"Turn around," Ron said to her when it was time for him to change out of his pajamas.
"Oh geez, I've seen you in your underwear a hundred times already. Just hurry up and change would you?"
"Sair."
He was in one of his stubborn moods and Sarah knew it was best not to argue.
"Fine. I'll be downstairs. Make it quick."
She took his bag and using the night light in the hallway to guide her, tread quietly down the staircase. When she reached the bottom however she heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks: the sound of a toilet flushing.
Mrs. Whittaker. In the bathroom. Just around the corner.
Sarah realized she only had a few seconds to disappear and she turned and sprinted up the stairs. Unfortunately Ron had just begun to descend the stairs and she plowed right into him.
"Argh!"
"Shhh!"
Sarah put a hand to her foster brother's mouth and steered him back down the hallway to Tom's room. Once inside she removed her hand so that he could speak.
"Sair!"
His face wore a mixed expression of shock and awe. "You almost knocked me right over!"
"Ron," Sarah panted. "Mrs. Whittaker was in the bathroom! I'm sorry - but we're lucky she didn't see me! Never mind you almost getting 'knocked over'."
Ron glared at her and sat down on the edge of the bed. After a minute he looked up at her. "So what do we do now?"
"I don't know," said Sarah, starting to pace the room nervously, "but this is bad. If the taxi is already outside - and if we're not out there soon - the driver might get tired of waiting and come and knock on the door!"
Seeing the state his foster sister was in, Ron racked his brain for a solution. "Hey, let's look out the window and check! The window in this bedroom looks right onto the street!"
"Oh my God! Ron!" she whispered loudly. "For once, a good idea out of you!"
Excitedly, Sarah hurried towards the window and pulled back the curtains. She peered outside. The street was dark and there was no cab parked in front of Mrs. Whittaker's.
Phew.
Sarah let the curtains drop back and stepped away from the window.
Ron looked at her. "So? The taxi isn't there yet?"
"No. Not yet...but it will be soon."
"What should we do?"
"Well," said Sarah, resuming her pacing, "we'll wait five minutes. After five minutes I'll go downstairs and check. If the coast is clear, I'll signal to you to come down too. If it's not, we'll wait another five minutes." She stopped her pacing long enough to look at Ron. "That's the best I can think of. I just hope that Mrs. Whittaker isn't awake for the rest of the day now. If she is, we're doomed."
"It's too early for anyone to be up for the day," Ron groaned, lying back on the bed. "I'm sure she'll go back to sleep. Remember how Gloria always gets up in the night to use the bathroom? I'm sure Mrs. Whittaker is just the same way."
Sarah nodded nervously. "You could be right. We'll soon find out."
Ron stared at the ceiling while Sarah stood and listened at the door. After five minutes, when she was sure the house was silent once again, she opened the door. It was dark except for the pale glow emitted by the night light in the hallway.
She turned and faced Ron. "Bring the bags to the top of the stairs and wait there while I go down and check."
Ron nodded and slowly got to his feet. Sarah crept forwards and made her way, once again, down the staircase. She stepped as lightly as possible on each hardwood step so as not to make a sound. When she finally reached the bottom, she stopped to listen. The house was silent. Using the night light in the kitchen to find her way, she tiptoed through the dark towards the kitchen. She made her way stealthily across the granite floor and peered around the corner towards the bathroom. The door stood ajar and the light was off. Phew. Down the hall Mrs. Whittaker's door was shut tight and the space under the door was dark. Sarah felt a surge of excitement.
Finally they could get out of here!
She crept back to the stairwell and gave Ron a "thumbs up". He nodded and slowly descended, carrying both their bags against his chest. Seeing that his ankle was still bothering him, Sarah hurried up the steps to take the bags from him.
"Thanks," he whispered.
"Don't mention it."
The foster siblings descended the stairs in the darkness, Sarah with the bags slung over her shoulder and Ron gripping the banister. Working towards the same objective made Sarah feel close to her foster brother and even though living at the Smolinski's had been the worst time of her life - she was thankful Child Services had put them there together.
They reached the floor and, much to Sarah's surprise, were able to leave Mrs. Whittaker's without any further difficulty. Outside a bright, yellow cab sat idling with its lights on. Upon seeing them approach, the driver hopped out, said "hello", and helped them load their bags into the trunk. A minute later they were on their way Sarah became excited for the future.
Free at last, she thought to herself as she looked through the rear window and watched Mrs. Whittaker's pink bungalow shrink into the distance.
Chapter Four
THE TRAIN TO TORONTO
"How much longer Sair?" asked Ron for what seemed to Sarah like the hundredth time.
Normally Ron's "How much longer?"/"Are we there yet?" routine would have annoyed her - but she decided that she was in too good a mood to let it bother her.
After all, she was going to see her dad tomorrow!
Sarah glanced up at the digital clock on the hutch wall.
"Ten minutes Ron. It's five fifty-six and our train departs at six-o-six."
"Oh."
"We really have to get you back into school little brother," said Sarah, taking a swipe at him. It angered her that he could have gotten the time himself - especially since he was always wearing a watch.
She punched Ron's arm when he didn't answer right away.
"Ow!"
"What?"
"Why'd you hit me!"
"Because you're getting slow. Don't you pay attention in school?"
She suddenly felt guilty for berating him, but she couldn't help it; the lack of sleep she'd had the night before was beginning to wear on her and her 'good mood' was quickly evaporating.
"I guess so," said Ron, rubbing his arm. "It's hard to pay attention in class sometimes."
Sarah suspected that he had trouble paying attention because he was always going to school hungry - the Smolinski's rarely fed him - and this made her feel even more guilty. Resolving to be more pleasant towards him, she said softly, "well, as soon as we get moved into my dad's, we're getting you signed up for school."
Ron turned his head so that he faced her. "And what about you? Aren't you going back to school?"
"Maybe," she replied nonchalantly. "Maybe not. I'm almost fifteen now Ron. I don't need school anymore."
Ron didn't answer, but instead sat back to think about this fact while Sarah resumed her people watching. The sun had yet to rise and so it was still quite dark, but the platform was well-lit and Sarah could make out several men in suits reading newspapers, a mother holding a crying baby and a group of students chatting excitedly. Her eyes came to rest on a man slowly pushing an "old lady" cart from one end of the platform to the other and she watched him until he was out her line of sight. It was rather warm for October and she noticed that several people were wearing shorts with their sweaters.
"Hey Sair, you still didn't tell me where you got all that money," said Ron suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. He was curious about the money she'd used to pay the cab driver.
"Did you steal it?"
Sarah's expression remained stoic. "Maybe."
"You stole it," he said grinning from ear to ear. "You stole it from the Smolinski's. Didn't you?"
She didn't answer but tried to keep a straight face as she looked forward. She liked when Ron wanted to know something only she knew. In this moment, his wondrous tone was addicting, and Sarah wanted to bask in it for as long as possible.
"Didn't you? Sair. Come on. You stole it from the Smolinski's - didn't you?"
Sarah looked straight ahead and said nothing, but she could feel a smile tugging away at her stony facade.
"Sair. You stole it from the Smolinski's."
Finally after a few more seconds, when she could no longer control herself, she burst out into a fit of giggles. "Yes Ron. Sherlock. I stole it from the Smolinski's. Are you happy now?"
It felt good to laugh.
"YOU!" he said. His mouth formed an "O" and he sucked in a breath of air. His eyes were wide and his face aglow. "Hank is going to kill you if he ever finds out."
"Oh I'm sure he knows by now," she said smugly. "I took it from the safe."
"But he checks that every day!"
"Exactly."
Ron's "O" shaped mouth made Sarah start giggling again.
"How much did you take?"
"Enough to last us for awhile."
"How much Sarah!"
When she didn't answer he moved closer and began to tickle her stomach - his most deadly weapon.
"Enough - to - last - us - for - awhile," she said, giggling and struggling in vain to avoid his tickles.
"Sair! Tell me!"
"Okay, okay," she conceded, pushing him back, "stop and I'll tell you!"
Ron stopped his tickling. "How much Sair?"
"A thousand."
"ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!
"Yeah stupid, but keep it down," Sarah hissed angrily, "People are starting to look at us!"
Ron obeyed her command and sat back, dreaming about all the candy and video games and skateboards he could buy with one thousand dollars. Ron's reverie was interrupted by the familiar "clang-clang" of the alarm which announced the impending arrival of their train. Sarah stood up quickly because she knew that in order to get a seat, they would have to get a spot near the edge of the platform as soon as possible. She told Ron to "hurry up" and slung her bag over her shoulder. Ron grabbed his backpack and the siblings hurried out of the hutch towards the yellow line at the edge of the platform. The crowd had grown considerably in the last few minutes and Sarah had to grip her brother's shoulder to prevent him from getting jostled out of line. Over the din of the crowd, she could hear the screeching of metal on metal in the distance and she knew that the train would come to a stop in exactly fifteen seconds. She took the Go Train several times a week from Pickering Station in order to make deliveries for Hank, and timing the train until it stopped and other "games" of that nature was how she amused herself. Her frequent trips also meant that Sarah could recite every stop along the "Lakeshore East" line - the line that runs between Oshawa and Union Station - in order. Moreover, she knew that it took exactly forty-six minutes to get from Pickering station to Union Station during the warm months and fifty-two minutes during the colder months.
As the familiar green and white Go Train approached, Sarah smiled. They were free of the Smolinski's! She couldn't believe that it was actually happening, that they were actually doing it.
Just one more day until I get to see my dad.
The train rolled to a stuttering stop. A dozen passengers got off and pushed their way through the crowd waiting to get on. When it was clear, the crowd pushed forwards and Ron and Sarah squeezed their way onto the train. Pulling Ron to the end of the car, she plopped herself down on one seat and set her bag on the seat beside her. Motioning to the pair of seats directly opposite, she told Ron to "sit down." Sarah didn't care that they got dirty looks from a few passengers for taking up seats with their bags - they deserved a bit of space to themselves after the adventure they'd just had. Ron pulled out his video game and Sarah sat back to read the newspaper left behind by another passenger. A few minutes later, the train got on its way, lurching forward and then gradually picking up speed until it was racing along at a steady one hundred kilometres per hour.
Sarah glanced periodically out the window while Ron glued his nose to it, his eyes wide and enthusiastic as he took in the passing scenery. Sarah had taken the train a hundred times in the six months that they'd been with the Smolinski's and she found that the scenery was simply too familiar to be interesting. Ron however was thoroughly impressed by the massive warehouses, farmers' fields and long lines of highway traffic - highway traffic that stretched as far as the eye could see and formed a colourful "rainbow" of red SUVs, orange sedans, yellow trucks, and blue vans.
At six-fourteen they reached Rouge Hill. A few new passengers got on and some got off. They got rolling again and Sarah flipped through the celeb-gossip section where she found an article about her favourite singer, Brittany Shears. Brittany had been arrested for drunk driving again and this time the judge wasn't going to go easy on her. Good, she thought to herself. It was a drunk driver that had killed her mom's only brother - the one person other than her dad that could have taken her in after her mom died.
"Next stop, Guildwood," said the voice on the intercom.
Sarah recalled her last delivery for Hank where she'd gotten off at Guildwood Station. She'd met the client at the club house of Hampton Links golf course - a short cab ride from the train station. The client had really surprised her - not so much by his attitude - although that was quite unusual too - but with his appearance. Tall, blonde, and extremely well-dressed, the man she'd called "Mister A" was a rarity among Hank's clients because he didn't look like the biker-type. The majority of men (and women) she delivered counterfeit money to sported multiple tattoos and piercings, wore ripped leather jackets and had long, unkempt manes that hung down to their shoulders.
"Four more stops until Union," said Ron cheerfully. While he rarely took the Go Train - Hank only used him for deliveries in Pickering and he always drove him to and from the exchange spot - Ron liked to hear Sarah's stories about the deliveries she'd made. He would often consult the system map and after a few months he'd memorized many of the Go Train stations in the Greater Toronto Area.
"So where exactly are we staying Sair?" asked Ron a few minutes later as the train rolled to a stop at Eglington Station.
Sarah looked at her brother from over the top of her newspaper. "It's a surprise."
"Sair. C'mon. You have to tell me. I didn't have to come with you."
"Oh no?" Sarah retorted.
Ron didn't like her patronizing tone. "No."
"So I should call Hank then and tell him to come and pick you up when we get to Union Station?"
"No!"
"What then?"
"Just tell me where we're staying."
"Fine...but then it's not a surprise."
"I don't like surprises!"
"Okay, okay. Sheesh. You're worse than Gloria!"
Ron glared at her.
"We're staying at the Le Luxembourg...it's a fancy, four-star hotel downtown."
Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out a magazine page that was folded in half.
"This is the ad," she said, unfolding it and glancing at her brother before reciting the text aloud.
This Fall, why not treat yourself to a stay at Toronto's urban oasis? The four-star Le Luxembourg is currently offering guests 15% savings when you book now for stays between October first and November thirtieth. Enjoy five-course meals prepared by our team of European-trained chefs, four-hundred thread count Egyptian linen, free shuttle service to the city's main attractions, and full access to our day spa facilities. At Le Luxembourg you'll find that little slice of paradise you've been waiting for. Don't delay, book your getaway package today!
"Whoa."
"I know! Who could have imagined that two 'wards of the State' would stay at a four-star hotel in downtown Toronto? Did I choose good or what?"
Ron grinned, flashing the dimples Sarah had always admired. "You chose good Sair."
"Thanks little brother."
"Hey," said Ron, suddenly. "How come we can't stay with your dad?"
"For the simple reason that I don't know where he lives and that it wouldn't do to just show up on his door step like two little street urchins with nowhere to go."
Sarah set down her newspaper and looked out the window. "He left my mom when I was still inside her...when she needed him most. If I'm going to be seeing him for the first time...I have to at least appear to be independent...and grown up."
"And you can do that by staying at a fancy hotel?"
"Of course. Why not? We'll invite him to the hotel for supper after we stop in at his office...it'll be our treat. He'll be impressed and we'll show him that we can handle ourselves...well that I can at least...and maybe he won't mind so much when we ask to live with him."
Ron threw her a skeptical look. "But..."
"But what?"
"It's just...you're his daughter and he's your dad...and so he should love you no matter what."
Ron's comment exasperated her. "I know. That's obvious. But it doesn't work like that. Look...he already abandoned me once...if I'm to have a shot at winning him over...I have to show him that I'm all grown up...he doesn't want to babysit us."
"But isn't that what parents are supposed to do?" asked Ron quizzically.
"Argh. You're clearly not understanding so I'm going to stop talking."
They rode the rest of the way in silence, Ron playing his video game and Sarah pretending to do the Sudoku puzzle in her newspaper.
Maybe Ron's right, she thought. Isn't a parent supposed to love their son or daughter...no matter what? Isn't a parent supposed to be a 'babysitter'...at least until their children reach adulthood? Why was she defending her dad when he had walked out on them all those years ago? More importantly, why didn't she have the option to go and live with him when her mom passed away? Had he not wanted her?
She studied Ron as he tapped furiously on the buttons of his game console. Ron didn't have a mom or a dad. His mom had left him crying in a church pew when he was just a baby...or so went the story anyways...and he never did learn who his father was.
At least her mom had been a parent to her. Ron had no one.
A wave of guilt flooded over her.
"Hey Ron?"
"Yeah?" he answered, without looking up from his game.
"How about we grab some pizza for lunch?"
He shrugged his shoulders and continued playing. "Sure."
"We'll get a an extra-large pizza - with one half covered in anchovies for you and the other half covered in olives - for me."
"Sounds good."
"After that we'll order up a big batch of ice cream. And they'll bring it right to our room. Sound good?"
"Yeah," he answered mechanically, his eyes still fixed on his game console.
She sighed. He'll perk up eventually.
Sarah turned back to her Sudoku puzzle as the intercom issued the two minute warning for their arrival at Union Station. It was tough and she was growing increasingly frustrated at having to scratch out all the numbers she entered. She liked math and numbers - something she assumed she'd gotten from her dad seeing that he was an accountant and all. But she had difficulty concentrating in school and last semester she had failed math. Her teachers said she didn't "apply herself".
How could she when she was missing school twice a week to make deliveries for Hank? Besides, school isn't the only way to become successful. Didn't Brittany Shears only go up to ninth grade?
"Union Station," announced the intercom.
The excitement Sarah had felt earlier that morning returned as she felt the train stop and saw hundreds of passengers begin to disembark. She grabbed both their bags and pushed her way into the aisle.