A/N the first: Greetings! Welcome to another heart pounding, nail biting, edge of your seat installment of… Hum? It's not? Oh. Okay. Erm… Welcome!
Thank you for reading, and for the reviews, comments, PMs, tweets, and alerts for this story. You all are the best! And thank you to those of you who inquired regarding my family and me as our beautiful state of Colorado deals with these tragic and devastating wildfires. We are safe. Know that the firefighters working these fires on the ground and in the air are heroes, plain and simple.
And as always, my thanks go to AgentInWaiting who did a phenomenal job beta-ing this chapter. You, sir, get a virtual gold star. I know. You're all tingly with excitement.
This chapter is for Catrogue.
Chapter 14 – Promenade
The highly anticipated day finally arrived and there was one word that dominated Lizzie, Lisa and Bridget's vocabulary: prom. The chatter surrounding the dance so overwhelmed breakfast that Chuck and Sarah had allowed the siblings with the "y" chromosome to take their plates from the kitchen and seek shelter in the TV room where they could eat their pancakes in peace.
At lunch, the boys' unspoken displeasure was evinced by the exasperation on their faces when hair, makeup, shoes, dresses, limos, flowers and jewelry continued to prevail as the topics of discussion. Both Chuck and Sarah tried to steer the conversation to something that would involve the boys as well, but eventually gave up when they realized it always ended up back on the same topic: prom.
By afternoon, the house was segregated. The males, including Casey who had arrived after lunch, were hunkered down playing Call of Duty. The females, including Sarah, Martie and Megan—each of whom had been sucked into the prom vortex—were upstairs helping Lizzie get ready for her big night. Sarah was glad that all the girls were a part of the preparations since it turned out to be a fun time of "female bonding." Much to Sarah's delight, she soon recognized that to the two youngest, "helping" meant that Martie frequently exclaimed how pretty Lizzie looked and Megan did not—even though everyone knew she wanted to—clomp up and down the hallway in her oldest sister's silver high heeled sandals.
After much discussion over the previous several days—the boys complaining that it seemed more like a year—it was decided that Lizzie would wear her hair up, similar to the way Ellie had worn hers on her wedding day; swept back, gathered and pinned around the back of her head.
Sarah was helping Lizzie put on the finishing touches of her makeup when the doorbell rang. "Aunt Sarah! I'm not ready!" she exclaimed, her nerves evident when she knocked over a bottle of perfume, the top of which was fortunately tightened securely.
"Relax, Lizzie, it's okay," Sarah replied in a soothing tone. Righting the bottle, she added, "Brock can wait for a few minutes. I'm sure your Uncle Chuck will make him feel welcome."
The look on Lizzie's face conveyed complete and abject horror. "It's not Uncle Chuck I'm worried about. Fred and Curtis are down there, too." Groaning, she said, "They're sooooooooo embarrassing."
"Uncle Casey can help keep the boys from being embarrassing, Lizzie," Martie said helpfully.
That didn't seem to help at all. "He'll scare him so badly, Brock may leave before I even get downstairs. Please, Aunt Sarah, make sure they don't torment my prom date," she pleaded.
Placing a calming hand on her shoulder, Sarah replied, "Yes, I'll make sure. You'll be down in a couple of minutes?"
Her niece nodded, the color returning to her face. "Yeah, I'm almost ready."
"Okay." Sarah stepped forward and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks," she answered shyly.
Sarah hurried down the stairs and cringed when she reached the bottom step. There they were, all five of them, sitting stiffly in the living room. An awkward silence hung over them like a pall. Oh, boy. She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face and strode into the room, hand outstretched. "Hi, you must be Brock. I'm Lizzie's aunt," she said as she approached the tuxedoed young man.
They all stood when she entered. Brock smiled and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bartowski."
She stepped back and glanced quickly at the faces around her. Casey was still scrutinizing Lizzie's date. Fred obviously still didn't like Brock and Curtis seemed to think the whole thing was rather amusing. Chuck looked relieved that she was there. Brock was surprisingly composed considering the circumstances and held in his hand a clear plastic container that contained the corsage he'd brought. Sizing him up quickly, Sarah could see why he was a popular kid. He was very good-looking, with dark hair, light blue eyes and a dimpled chin. He's going to break a lot of hearts.
"Lizzie will be down in a minute," she motioned for him to sit down again. They all returned to their seats. Looks like I'm going to be the one to keep the conversation going here. She found a place next to Chuck and said, "Brock, I understand you and Lizzie will be going to dinner with another couple tonight."
"Yeah, Monica and Roy," he said, the slightest hint of condescension in his voice. "It was Lizzie's idea. They're not as cool as we are, you know, he's not, like on the football team or anything, but she's Lizzie's friend…" He shrugged and brushed at a piece of lint on his pants. "We can always meet up with my friends later."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred frown. "You're going to Magnifico for dinner," she continued. "That's a pretty posh place."
Brock waved a hand as if it was no big deal. "My dad knows the head chef. It only took a phone call for us to get the best table in the place."
She noticed one side of Casey's upper lip pull up into a tiny snarl. Lizzie better hurry or this is might end badly. Her niece seemed to read her mind as there was a buzz of voices at the top of the stairs. As one, all in the living room stood and turned toward the sounds. Lizzie slowly glided down the staircase, an absolute vision in her long, blue Parisian dress. One hand delicately touched the railing as the other clutched a small silver purse. Excitement shone in her eyes and a happy smile graced her face. Her sisters' faces glowed just as brightly as they watched over the railing.
"Ellie," Chuck whispered. Sarah snuck a peek at him. She felt her throat tighten when saw the look on his face. There was pride, of course, but it was tinged with a hint of regret. She knew he was feeling his sister's absence; that she wasn't there to see the beautiful and poised young woman her eldest daughter had become. Sarah slipped her hand into his and held to it tightly. His eyes were wet when he gave her a wistful look.
From behind, she heard Fred say in quiet awe, "She looks just like Mom in her wedding pictures."
"Yeah, she does," came Curtis' soft response.
Brock and Lizzie stood facing each other. "You look really pretty," he said.
"Thanks," she answered shyly. "You look nice, too." They stood staring for a moment. Brock jerked suddenly, realizing he was holding her corsage. Opening the box and taking it out, he said, "Here, I got this for you."
He held it out to her. She slipped it on her wrist and smiled. "Oh! I got you a boutonniere. It's in the fridge." She turned to head toward the kitchen.
Fred stepped up. "I… I'll get it for you," he said, rushing off to the kitchen. He was back in a flash and handed a small box to his sister.
"Thanks, Fred," she said softly, smiling at him.
He grinned back. Suddenly, he said, "Come on, Curtis. Let's go watch TV."
Curtis didn't have to be asked twice. As he fled the room, he called out, "Bye, Lizzie! Have fun!"
Fred was close at his brother's heels when he, too, called out, "See you, Brock! Have fun, Liz!"
With the boys gone, Casey suddenly looked uncomfortable. Nodding stiffly at the two teenagers he said, "Brock. Lizzie," and escaped to the television room with the boys.
Now that the room had somewhat cleared, those who remained relaxed. Lizzie successfully pinned the boutonniere to Brock's lapel, gauged by the fact that no blood was spilled.
Photos were taken in the backyard by Chuck, with him making sure the blackened trees weren't in the background. Lizzie pointed out to Brock the area where the gazebo had been and explained that its charred remains had been removed. All that was left was the scorched ground. Sarah was glad that the new gazebo, which was expected to be finished before they left for their trip, would cover the ugly scar.
The time came for Lizzie and Brock to leave as they still needed to pick up Monica and Roy at Monica's house and get to the restaurant in time for their reservation.
The four of them stood by the front door. "The prom is over at midnight. I expect Lizzie home by no later than twelve-thirty," Chuck informed Brock. Sarah wasn't sure she'd ever seen such a stern look on her husband's face. "That should be plenty of time to get back here from Vail after it's over."
"Some of my friends are having an after-prom party and I was hoping—" Brock started.
"No," Chuck said resolutely, cutting him off. Sarah noticed Lizzie's immediate disappointment. Chuck and Sarah had talked about the potential of something like this coming up, and as much as they trusted their niece and wanted to give her some freedom, they both knew any activities beyond the prom was trouble waiting to happen. Lizzie's eyes pleaded with Sarah, but she could only respond with a "sorry-but-I-agree-with-your-uncle" look. There was a sigh of resignation.
In a final parting message, Chuck warned, "No drinking." This elicited an exaggerated eye roll and exasperated, "Uncle Chuck! I'm not going to drink!"
"We know, but now no one can say we didn't tell you not to," he replied.
That earned him another eye roll and a soft groan of exasperation. Sarah, realizing that things needed to move along, stepped forward and kissed Lizzie's cheek. "Have a wonderful time and remember what we talked about." Lizzie's sole response was a wink.
It was Sarah's turn to wink at Chuck when he gave her an odd look and then opened the door. The prom couple stepped out first, followed by Chuck and Sarah who stayed standing on the front porch. A black stretch limo was parked out front of the house and Lizzie fairly skipped with glee, holding tightly to Brock's hand. The driver quickly rounded the limo and opened the door for his passengers. The teenagers, resplendent in their formalwear, slid into the backseat, first Lizzie and then Brock. They disappeared behind darkened glass when the door closed behind them. The limo pulled away from the house, slowly drove down the street and then was gone.
~ O ~
The death grip John Casey had on the steering wheel of his SUV caused his knuckles to turn white. This family was going to be the death of him as he felt his blood pressure climb. So far he had resisted buying a bonsai tree for his place in Colorado, but if these late night calls kept coming in from Walker, the nerd or their kids, he was going to need something to help keep him calm.
"First your wife and now your niece. It won't be long before we have to pick up Megan at juvie for knocking over liquor stores and boosting cars," Casey groused, glancing over at Chuck in the passenger seat.
"Lay off, Casey," Chuck shot back, his face grim. "Lizzie's not in jail. Why do you assume she's even in trouble. All I know is we got a call from the principal telling us to come pick her up at the hotel where they're having the prom."
"I'm not assuming she did anything wrong, but maybe she got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with that kid." His voice was full of contempt. "What do you know about this Brock, anyway?" Casey asked, shooting an accusatory look toward Chuck. "He's kind of a snot if you ask me. Fred had him pegged all along." His grip on the wheel tightened as he pressed on the accelerator harder. The SUV shot forward in response. "Does the punk have a criminal record?"
Chuck snapped his head up. "I don't know."
"What does his father do for a living?"
"I don't know."
"Is he the father of any illegitimate child—"
"Casey! Come on!" Chuck's growing irritation was evident. "I trust Lizzie."
"Yeah, well, you can trust her all you want. It's her date I'm worried about. Wrong place, wrong time, Bartowski."
Casey let the conversation drop. Clearly, he would have to take a more active role in vetting the girls' dates. As they drove in silence, he failed to see what the big deal was about prom anyway. It seemed to him like a giant waste of time and money. He had skipped the thing altogether when he was in high school. As the youngest president ever of a chapter of the National Rifle Association, he had organized an evening at the local gun range as an alternative to the prom. One of the members had brought along his Mark I Desert Eagle .357 Magnum. All these years later, he could still remember the awe of not only seeing, but actually firing such a magnificent weapon. What a special night. It had been his first time.
He wheeled the SUV into the hotel parking lot at what he considered a normal rate of speed. Apparently, his passenger didn't since Chuck braced himself with an elbow against the door on one side and gripped the armrest on the other. Two more quick turns and they came to a seatbelt-straining stop in a parking space.
"You can open your eyes now, Bartowski," Casey said, throwing the door open. He was already half way across the parking lot before Chuck had closed his door. The big man never broke stride as he heard Chuck jog up to him and fall in step. Once they were through the front door, they immediately heard music, which grew louder and louder as they followed it through the lobby and down a corridor.
A young woman wearing a long, sherbet orange dress, stopped them at the entrance of the ballroom. "I'm sorry, but this is a school prom. You aren't allowed to go in."
"I got a phone call from Mr. Thomas. We're here to pick up Lizzie Woodcomb," Chuck informed her.
"Oh," she said quietly, her eyes widened with understanding. "Go ahead."
Casey's hands involuntarily balled into tight fists. He squinted at the girl and then scowled at Chuck. Grimly, Chuck stared back at him for a few seconds before he rushed into the ballroom, Casey just behind him.
The instant they stepped into the ballroom, a brew of sweat, perfume, and body odor assaulted them. The thumping music and flashing lights filled the room with jubilation and frenzy. "Animals," Casey muttered to himself when he saw that many of couples didn't dance so much as grind against each other.
A tall, distinguished looking man with greying hair and a commanding presence approached them. "Gentleman, what can I do for you?"
"I'm Chuck Bartowski. I got a call to come pick up my niece, Lizzie Woodcomb. Is she okay?" Chuck asked, his apprehension palpable.
"Yes, she's fine," the man said reassuringly. Shaking Chuck's hand, he continued, "I'm Mr. Thomas, the principal. She wanted to call you herself to come pick her up and take her home. Given the circumstances, however, I felt it best that I be involved."
Through clenched teeth, Casey asked, "What do you mean by 'circumstances?'"
"And you are?" Mr. Thomas asked.
"Lizzie's Uncle Casey." At the other man's perplexed look, Casey stood tall. "We're a big family."
"Okay then," Mr. Thomas said placidly. He set off at a fast pace toward one wall of the room with Chuck on one side and Casey on the other. "I'll have her tell you. Rest assured, she's not in trouble."
When Chuck gave him a questioning look, the principal said, "There was a bit of a problem with her date."
Casey felt the veins in his forehead start to throb. The low, menacing growl that rumbled from his chest cut across the music and caused the other two men to eye him warily.
"Casey," Chuck said in a warning tone.
When his head snapped toward Chuck, Casey grunted like a bull about to charge. His nostrils flared and his eyes snapped with ire. He was only pulled from his thunderous rage when he saw Lizzie stand from one of the chairs lined up against the wall and walking forward to meet them. He noticed that her hair was a little messier than it had been when she left the house, but she otherwise looked unhurt. A young man, about the same height as Lizzie with straight blond hair and glasses stood from the chair he had occupied next to her and awkwardly trailed behind her at a respectful distance. Another couple that had sat on the other side of Lizzie stayed seated and looked on.
She went to Chuck first and gave him a long hug. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded against his shoulder. She released Chuck and went to Casey, who enveloped her in his arms.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Chuck asked, his voice nearly choked with worry.
She nodded against Casey's chest. Her arms tightened around him and then let go. Stepping back, she smoothed her hair with her hands. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Dinner was really nice," she started. Lizzie turned and waved at the couple still sitting against the wall. The young brunette woman in the large red dress waved back. Her date seemed indifferent to it all and stared at the people on the dance floor. Turning back, she explained, "That's my friend, Monica and her date, Roy. We had a nice time and everything was fine until a little while ago. Brock started to want to grind when we danced and I didn't want to. He…" she took another deep breath and stared at the floor. "He started to get a little forceful," she said quietly.
The rage started to build again and burned in Casey's chest. He really needed to break something, preferably a bone or twelve in that smug—
"Did he hurt you?" Chuck growled. Casey had never heard the other man's voice sound so hard and cold.
Lizzie shook her head and lifted her gaze to meet Chuck's. Behind the tears that glistened, her eyes flashed. Throwing her shoulders back, she said, "I flipped him."
"You… you flipped him? On his back?" Chuck asked, astonished.
"Mm-hmm."
"Right in the middle of the dance floor?"
"Not right in the middle. We were off to one side."
"And you flipped him? Just like that?" Chuck repeated.
"Well, yes. You need to always be prepared."
Chuck paused, recalling the same words had been said to him before. "Aunt Sarah?"
"Aunt Sarah," his niece confirmed.
He turned to the principal who had hung back. "So, she's not in trouble?"
The other man stepped forward. "No, not at all. There are a number of students who saw what happened and said that Lizzie did what needed to be done."
"Good girl," Casey said through the side of his mouth. He received a self-conscious smile from her in return.
"Actually," Mr. Thomas said with a wry smile, "your niece impressed a number of our female students. I've had quite a few already ask me if she would be willing to lead a self-defense club on campus."
Flabbergasted, Lizzie said, "Really? I figured I wouldn't have any friends after this."
"Quite the contrary," Mr. Thomas said.
"Will Brock be punished at all?" Chuck asked.
"Unfortunately, boorish behavior doesn't break any rules," the principal replied. As Chuck, Lizzie and Mr. Thomas continued to talk, Casey scanned the room. On the other side of the ballroom, he saw a cluster of people and at the center of it stood Lizzie's erstwhile date. Brock shot angry glares in their direction while his sycophants laughed derisively.
Casey slipped away from the group he was with and wandered toward Brock's. They watched him warily as he approached. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants, he tried to look nonchalant. Ignoring Brock's posse, he walked slowly up to Brock and stared at him right in the eyes. "Big man," he said in a menacing voice, "trying to force your date to do something she's uncomfortable with."
Brock smirked. "Who said she didn't want it?" he sneered. A titter of laughter came from his toadies. "She tries to act like a goody-goody, but everybody knows she's just a sl—"
Casey's face moved within an inch of Brock's. "You need to be more respectful of women," he growled through gritted teeth. "And you think you're such a hot shot after she kicked your ass?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brock's crew start to deliberately back away. Moving his face away, Casey put out his hand, palm up and demanded, "Give it up."
"What? I don't know what you're talking about." The boy's eyes shifted and his bravado began to crumble now that he was facing Casey alone, his friends having scattered.
"Give me the flask. I can smell it on your breath, you little piece of—" He stopped himself. "You reek of cheap whiskey. Lizzie wouldn't have recognized it, but I do." When Brock hesitated, he gave the kid his most fearsome glare and snarled, "Give. Me. The. Flask." The teen's resolve finally gave way. From the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a silver hip flask and placed it in Casey's awaiting palm.
Casey shot him another disdainful glare and unscrewed the small cap. Sniffing the contents, he scrunched his nose. "Daddy locks up the good stuff, huh?" He swished the liquid around a little. "Not much left. You sharing it with those really cool friends of yours?" he snarked. "The ones that left you?"
Brock's gaze flicked around the room. The music thumped out a song about a girl who just met a guy and, even though it was crazy, gave him her phone number and noncommittally asked him to call her. The song was so incredibly annoying it made Casey want to jam an icepick in his ears just so he wouldn't have to listen to its inanity anymore. Most couples continued to dance, even as they surreptitiously watched the drama unfolding. Casey knew the kid didn't want to lose face in front of everyone in the room, so he wasn't surprised when Brock glared back at him with renewed courage. "Give if back," the teen ordered, challenging the man who could snap him in half like a dry twig. "You can't touch me," he said defiantly. "I'm a minor. And there are all these witnesses."
Casey drew up to his full, intimidating height. Staring down his nose at the little twerp in front of him, he growled quietly, "No, you're right. I can't. But you won't be a minor forever. You're what, seventeen? Less than a year, you'll be an official adult." The corner of his upper lip lifted into a menacing sneer. "I can wait." He paused. "And watch." He glared at him until Brock flinched. Wordlessly, Casey bent over, carefully placed the flask on the floor, and raised his foot directly over it. He pinned his stare back on the kid and without it wavering, drove the heel of his boot into the center of the metal container. Picking up the crushed and flattened flask, he slapped it against Brock's chest and said, "Here you go, boy." He turned and stalked away.
As he returned to his group, he said to Mr. Thomas, "You might want to check Brock and his friends for alcohol. Mr. Wonderful over there has a flask." His eyes flashed. "I'm afraid it's a bit bent."
"I'll do that right now. Thank you," the principal said, shaking his hand. Next he shook Chuck's and then said to his student, "See you at school on Monday, Lizzie. I wouldn't worry about seeing Brock—or any of his friends for that matter—at school for the next few days." With that, he dipped his head, left them and walked straight toward Brock.
"Ooooooo, look at his face. He knows he's busted," Lizzie said gleefully. "What a tool."
"Are you sure you want to go home? Chuck asked. "My guess is Brock won't be here much longer and I'm sure your friend and her date would be happy to have you stay."
The young man who had hung back the whole time stepped forward a couple of paces and said hopefully, "You should, Lizzie. I could hang out with you." Nervously, he stuck a finger into the collar of his dress shirt and pulled it as if trying to stop it from choking him.
Lizzie gave him a smile, stepped over and faced him. "That's very sweet of you, Adam, but I'm just going to go home. My ride's already here and I kind of want to just get out of here." She reached out and straightened his tie. "Thank you for staying with me."
To Casey, the poor kid looked like he was about to throw up. "Any time," the young man croaked.
Lizzie smiled again, went over to her friend, Monica, and gave her a hug. When she swept by Adam, she said, "I'll text you later. Bye."
Casey, on one side of her, offered his arm to Lizzie while on the other, Chuck did the same. Every eye in the room was on the trio as she slipped her hands into the crooks of their proffered arms and watched as they, together, headed for the door.
~ O ~
They sat together, aunt and niece, cross-legged on the bed. A carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream—which an hour before had been unopened and untouched—now sat empty on Lizzie's desk. Sarah fingered the black ear of the worn and well-loved small stuffed dog that lived on Lizzie's bed. Chuck had mentioned to her once that every other stuffed animal of Lizzie's had over the years migrated to her sisters' rooms, except the dog with the black ears. He had been a Christmas present from Ellie and Devon when she was four. She had once confided to Sarah that the little stuffed dog had been told more of her secrets than anyone else in the world.
Sarah sat quietly and waited as her niece snatched another tissue from the box, dabbed at her puffy and red-rimmed eyes and then wiped her nose. The wet tissue was wadded up and tossed onto a growing mound. Next to the pile sat a half-eaten container of Nutella, the handle of the spoon sticking out of the top of the jar.
When Lizzie had first arrived home, she was surprisingly poised. She had thanked Chuck and Casey profusely for coming to her rescue and hugged them both tightly before going upstairs to her room. Prompted by a hopeful glance from her, Sarah's inquiry as to whether or not the teen wanted company was met with a heartfelt smile.
As Sarah had removed the hairpins from her niece's hair and brushed it out, Lizzie's eyes had sparked and flashed with fury as she relayed some of the details of what had transpired during the evening. She had felt tears prick in her own eyes as she watched the anger in Lizzie's subside, only to be replaced by embarrassment, shame and sadness. Then the words had stopped and the tears had begun to flow.
The blue formal dress was carefully hung up and replaced by a tank top and flannel pants. When her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail and all of her makeup removed, Sarah was reminded of how young and vulnerable her niece really was and how cruel the world could be.
Eventually, the torrent of tears had subsided and Lizzie seemed to be regaining her composure. "I thought he really liked me," she said dully, her voice ragged and her nose stuffy.
"I'm sure he did. I don't think he would have asked you to the prom if he didn't," Sarah answered gently. "I think the problem is that he didn't respect you."
"I'm such an idiot for not realizing he was drinking."
"You're not an idiot. He did it without you knowing. That's not your fault."
"I guess," she shrugged. "There were a few times when he went off with his friends. He must have been doing it then. I just figured he wanted to hang out with them some of the time. I didn't want to ditch Monica and Roy, so…" Heaving a sigh, she said, "Now I understand why he was being so handsy and aggressive the longer the prom went on."
It was a good thing Sarah hadn't been at the prom. She would have throttled the little jerk. "You did the right thing by flipping him."
"It all happened so fast. He kept coming after me and putting his hands on me. It made me uncomfortable, so I kept pushing him away and telling him to stop. At the beginning, he was acting goofy and more like he was just teasing. After a while, he started getting mad." She stopped, took a deep breath and looked at Sarah. "I remembered what you and I had talked about —about how to read people. I could see he was really angry and I knew if I didn't do something…" Sarah saw the resolve on Lizzie's face when she continued, "So when he grabbed my wrist, I got out of it like you taught us and then flipped him over my shoulder." Her eyes flashed at the memory. "He's lucky I didn't break his nose," she said with a hint of pride.
"That he is. He's also lucky Casey didn't break every bone in his body." I would have liked to have seen that, actually.
Lizzie chuckled. "You should have seen the way Brock's friends took off when Uncle Casey went to talk to them. One of them looked like he was about to wet his pants."
"I'm not surprised," Sarah chuckled. "He's an intimidating guy. It's part of his charm."
In the quiet moment that followed, Lizzie's small smile disappeared. "I liked him, too." Sheepishly, she added, "Or at least I thought I did. And also? Boys are tools."
"Now wait a minute. Not all boys. Some of them are okay. Look at your brothers. Turns out Fred was right about Brock and was looking out for you in his own Fred-like way the whole time."
Lizzie nodded. "You're right. I'll have to admit to him that he was right." She huffed out an exasperated breath but wore a wry smile. "He's never going to let me live that down."
"Maybe not, but isn't it nice to know he's got your back?" Sarah asked, eyebrows raised.
"I hadn't thought of it that way, but you're right. It is. So now I go back to being a nerd with no friends," Lizzie sighed.
"Okay, back up. Don't be talking bad about nerds," Sarah teased. "I happen to be married to one, so watch it." She was pleased to see a smile reach Lizzie's eyes for the first time since she had come home. "And as for no friends, I hear that's probably not going to be an issue."
Lizzie grabbed the spoon from the Nutella jar and licked at the dark, sweet spread. "What makes you say that?"
"Uncle Chuck texted me when you were on your way home to let me know you were okay. He mentioned a couple of things. First, the principal said there are some girls who want you to teach them self-defense."
"Um, yeah," Lizzie said, dipping her head. "I was kinda hoping you could help me with that."
"I'd be happy to." She arched an eyebrow. "I also heard that there was a boy who stayed with you after the incident with Brock."
A tiny smile curled and Lizzie became a little bashful. "Yeah, that's Adam. He's really nice."
"I hope he didn't ditch his date to hang out with you."
"No, he didn't have one. He was there because he's on the prom committee." She frowned. "Some people teased him about it and called him a nerd."
"Brock and his friends?"
"Yeah. I'm so embarrassed I ever hung out with them."
"Don't worry about it. We all have people in our past we wish we hadn't associated with."
"Really? You have people in your past like that?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Care to share?"
Sarah shook her head. She didn't ever want to revisit those experiences. "There's no need. It was a lifetime ago." A thought struck her. "Do you remember one of our first talks, when we talked about Wolf and you asked me if I'd ever been in love?"
Lizzie licked the spoon again and then stuck it back in the jar. "You said you thought you had, but then later realized you really hadn't."
"It wasn't until I met your uncle that I knew what it was to really be in love. You may have to go through a bunch of losers—guys like Brock—before you find a winner. Knowing what you don't want in a guy is just as important as learning what you do." With a gentle finger, she poked at Lizzie's knee. "It might feel pretty bad right now, but you'll learn a lot from this."
"If you say so." Lizzie grabbed her pillow, dropped it on her lap and hugged it. "There's something else I remember about that first talk of ours."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"It wasn't, um, easy for you to talk about yourself."
"Who, me?" she said with a chuckle. "Not able to talk about my feelings?" Putting her thumb and forefinger millimeters apart from each other, she said, "Okay, maybe I was a little bit uncomfortable."
Lizzie giggled. "Maybe just a little." Sobering, she said shyly, "I'm glad I have somebody to talk to about stuff like this."
Sarah's eyes suddenly burned. "Me too, sweetie. I can't imagine not sitting here with you right now." Her fingers began work the dog's ear again, a whisper of nerves setting upon her as a thought overtook her mind. She had been thinking about bringing this topic up with Lizzie ever since she and Chuck had heard back from the lawyer concerning her adoption of the kids. She didn't know if this was the best time to bring it up, but she decided to go ahead.
Ignoring the way her mouth had just dried, she started tentatively, "I… I always want to be here for you." The happy smile on Lizzie's face gave her reason to press on. "I want to…" This is it. "I want to adopt you and your brothers and sisters. I need consent from all of you who are older than twelve and I thought I would ask you first since you're the oldest." Now that she had started, the words tumbled quickly from her mouth. "I know you're seventeen and you'll be a legal adult in less than a year, but I was hoping that you might still consider…" The rest of her words died on her lips and her tentativeness slipped away when she saw a grin light up Lizzie's face.
"Really?" Lizzie asked. "You want to take us all on?"
Sarah laughed. "I think that question was answered before I even married your uncle." Sobering, she said, "I want to make it formal and legal. I realized it was something I wanted, no, I needed to do when we started the process to get passports for you kids. Only a legal guardian or parent can sign the applications and I'm neither."
"I noticed that when we went to the post office. Uncle Chuck showed them some paperwork and signed everything. You didn't."
She'd felt so frustrated that day, being so impotent when it came to the legal wellbeing of the children. Those feelings of aggravation simply reinforced to her that she was doing the right thing in needing to adopt them. "Well, that will change if it's okay with you."
"It's okay with me," Lizzie replied lightly. "I remember having a similar conversation with Uncle Chuck a few years ago. Where do I sign?"
A thrill shot through Sarah as she gave her niece a hug. She couldn't stop the huge sigh of relief.
Lizzie giggled at the gust of air. "You didn't think I would say no, did you?"
Leaning back, Sarah popped a shoulder and answered, "I wasn't sure. You're almost eighteen…" Sarah had been on her own for a while by the time she was the same age as Lizzie was now. "I thought maybe you would want less parents at your age than more."
"Aunt Sarah," came the patient reply, "most people have parents way beyond their eighteenth birthday. I'd like to be one of them."
"You're a pretty smart kid, you know that?" Sarah asked with a grin.
"I know," her niece sang with mock superiority.
"I still need to talk to the rest of the kids. I assume they'll be okay with it, too."
Lizzie rolled her eyes and sighed, "Duh."
"Roll your eyes at me all you want, but I still have to get consent from Fred and Lisa," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "Then we'll get the paperwork going."
A "bling" sounded. Lizzie tipped the phone toward her and glanced at the screen. Sarah noticed a twinkle in Lizzie's eyes as she read the text. With thumbs racing over the screen, she sent a response.
"I take it that wasn't Brock."
"No, that was Adam. He wanted to make sure I'm okay."
"Are you?"
"Thanks to you and Uncle Chuck and Uncle Casey—and Adam—I'm more than okay."
Sarah leaned over and kissed Lizzie's cheek. "I'm glad." She slid off the bed, grabbed the empty carton of ice cream off the desk and opened the door. "Don't stay up too late texting."
Lizzie flashed a grin. "Fiiiine. I'll do what you say even if you aren't my legal parent," she teased.
"This 'not-legal-parent-for-only-a-short-time-longer' thanks you," she answered, bowing slightly. As she left the bedroom, she turned and said with quiet affection, "Good night, sweetie."
Given the events what had taken place at the prom and the turmoil it had caused, Sarah was both pleased and relieved when she saw nothing but happiness and contentment on her eldest's face, "Good night, Aunt Sarah."
~ O ~
The pen dropped to the lined notepad with a light thunk. Leaning back in her chair as she sat at the kitchen table, Sarah pushed her hands through her hair and stretched her back and shoulders. She had spent the last twenty minutes crossing off and adding items to her to-do list. Glancing down at the scribbles on the yellow paper, she sighed when she noted that she had added more things to the bottom of the list than she had scratched off at the top. However, there was one thing off the list that relieved her greatly and one item she was extremely happy to add.
Her most recent addition to the list was to make sure the older kids signed the consent to adoption forms before they left on their trip. After getting enthusiastic approval from Lizzie, Sarah couldn't wait to speak to the rest of the kids, so she made a point to talk to them the day after the prom. Even though she only needed official consent from two of them, she wanted to speak to all of them about it regardless.
Lizzie had been right in saying the rest of the kids would be more than ecstatic when informed of Sarah's intention to legally adopt them. Her talk with the boys in their room after breakfast had evoked classic reactions from Fred and Curtis: huge grins, hollers of "woohoo" and high fives shared amongst the three of them. After her success with the boys, she found Bridget, Martie and Megan in the TV room watching a movie. Their responses had been as exuberant as their brothers', only crushing hugs and tears had replaced the high fives.
In the end, it was Lisa's reaction she had been most concerned about. It wasn't that Sarah thought Lisa would refuse to consent to the adoption. She was pretty sure she would be okay with it. It was that Sarah knew that she could never completely fill the void in Lisa's life left by the deaths of Ellie and Devon. She hoped, however, that this final step would go a long way to help Lisa finally feel a sense of stability Sarah knew the girl craved. As they spoke, Sarah found herself blinking back tears when an unguarded smile grew on Lisa's face. It was as if she had been waiting for Sarah to take the step. There was a sparkle in her niece's eyes she had never seen before.
Those conversations with the kids had been two weeks ago. Yesterday, she and Chuck had picked up from the lawyer the consent forms to be signed, hence the addition to the list.
The arrival of eight newly minted passports in the mail was cause for celebration, relief and one more thing crossed off the list. A passport issued to Sarah Bartowski—a chill shot through her when she saw the passport with her real name—had previously been sent to her, expedited through the Agency. This allowed her to have two passports: Sarah Bartowski's to be used when she was with the family and Sarah Walker's if needed during missions. They had immediately sent proof to Buy More corporate that all of their travel documents were in order and were now awaiting the final itinerary to be e-mailed. She sighed again, knowing that its receipt would somehow trigger more items to be added to her ever-changing list.
At least I'm not having to re-learn that, she thought as her gaze drifted from her own scribbles to Lizzie's paper covered with formulas and equations. With books spread out before her, the girl's head was bent low over the table and her writing was fast and furious as she studied for her upcoming chemistry final.
Across the table, his side equally strewn with books and papers, Fred stabbed a finger at the buttons of his graphing calculator as he prepared for his geometry final. He huffed an irritated yet determined breath, muttered something about "the tangent," poked at the clear button a half dozen times and then renewed his battle.
Pulling her thoughts back to her list, she was jotting down a reminder to speak with Casey about transporting their weapons when Chuck sauntered into the kitchen, his eyes scanning over several pieces of paper in his hand.
"Buy More corporate just sent me the final itinerary," he said, holding up the papers for Sarah to see. "They have our schedule mapped out pretty much to the hour. The only thing I can't figure out is what these red half-hour blocks are for after some of the sights like the Eiffel Tower."
Sarah stood and looked at the schedule as he pointed out to her the block to which he was referring. Her brow knit and she said, "The color legend says red is for PDA. What does—"
"Public displays of affection," Lizzie interrupted, not taking her eyes off the textbook she was reading.
"Huh? What? Who…?" Chuck spluttered.
Lizzie sighed and looked up, "Public displays of affection time for you and Aunt Sarah. I called Uncle Morgan and he had Buy More corporate add that in."
Chuck's eyes grew larger. "You actually called… Why would you… That's not nec—"
"Oh, please," their niece scoffed. "You and Aunt Sarah can hardly keep your hands off each other when we go for a walk in the park."
"Don't forget the bowling alley and movie theater incidents," Fred supplied.
"Right," Lizzie continued. "What do you think is going to happen when we get to romantic places like the Eiffel Tower or the Trevi Fountain? This way, Uncle Casey and Uncle Morgan can watch over us during those times and you and Aunt Sarah can do…" she circled a hand nebulously in the air, "what you have to do."
Sarah peered at Lizzie, who was once again ignoring them and turning a page of her textbook. "They're right, you know," she admitted to her husband.
Chuck's cheeks pinked. "Yeah, but does all of Buy More corporate have to know about it?"
Narrowing her eyes at him, one corner of her mouth quirked up. "So, you're going to call corporate and have them take those times out then?" she asked in a husky voice.
"Nononono! That's totally not necessary," he replied in a panic. "I mean, they already went to all that work to accommodate us." He waggled his eyebrows and then snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I'd really hate to make them change everything back…"
Sarah took the papers from Chuck and examined them more closely. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm," she murmured to herself. "Oooooo," she purred, her eyes lighting up when she pointed out one of the entries to him. Raising herself on her tiptoes, she whispered something into her husband's ear. In response, his whole body jerked and his eyes glazed over.
After snatching the writing pad off the table, Sarah took her still unresponsive husband by the hand and led him from the room. "Good call on the schedule, Lizzie," Sarah called out over her shoulder.
Without looking up, Lizzie called out, "Glad to help!" Fred's snort trailed out behind them.
This could turn out to be a pretty good trip, she thought as her still unfocused husband stumbled along behind her.
~ O ~
A/N the second: I will not be posting next Thursday, July 5th. My family and I will be on vacation all of next week. When I come back from my trip, the Bartowski/Woodcomb clan will be going on theirs.