At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [98]
Bridget said, floundering in confusion, “But—Noah loves the outdoors so. Gardening, and building and planting things . . . he even has a pet deer. Living in the city will be hard for him.”
“Young people are incredibly adaptable,” Carrie assured her. “A great deal more than we give them credit for.”
“And I hope you’ll let him visit now and then,” Mandy said quickly. “Carrie and I were talking before you came in, and I thought that might make it a little easier for him, knowing that he could come back.”
“He’s just started to think of the farm as home.” There was a note of pleading in Bridget’s voice. “Surely you could give him a little more time to adjust to the idea of moving away.”
Before Carrie could answer Lindsay spoke abruptly. “He’s an artist.” Her jaw was set and her voice was tight. “He has as much passion for it as anyone I’ve ever known, and he could have a real future with the right training.”
Mandy’s face softened. “My mama used to draw. That must be where he gets it from.”
“His IQ is close to 150. Did you know that?” Lindsay went on. The slight increase in the pace of her breathing was visible in the rise and fall of her chest. “Despite the absolutely terrific start in life you gave him . . .” The scorn in her voice shocked even her friends, who stared at her. “He’s managed to overcome the lack of even the most basic education and, in less than six months, surpass his own grade level. Is there a good school in your neighborhood, Ms. Cormier? One with an arts program? And what about college? How much thought have you given to that? Or have you been too busy thinking about what’s best for you to give any consideration to what’s best for Noah?”
“Lindsay, please!” exclaimed Bridget, horrified.
Cici apologized, “This has really been a stressful week for us. I’m sure Lindsay didn’t mean . . .”
“I know what I meant!” Lindsay snapped.
Carrie placed both hands palm down on the desk, as though readying herself to stand. “I think this might be a good time to take a break.”
Some of the fire went out of Lindsay’s eyes as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head, “but this isn’t right. It’s just not right.”
“Maybe there’s a compromise,” Cici said, touching Lindsay’s arm soothingly. “Why don’t you let Noah finish out the school year with us, and spend the summer at the farm while you get settled in your new apartment? He could get to know you gradually over the summer, and by the time school starts in the fall you would be ready to have him move in with you.” As she spoke, Mandy was shaking her head, slowly at first and then with more and more force.
Carrie spoke up. “That’s not a bad plan,” she said. “It might be the best thing for everyone.”
“No,” Mandy said. “No.”
“Why not?” Lindsay insisted, obviously struggling to keep the edge out of her voice. “What difference can a few months possibly make?”
“I don’t have a few months!” Mandy cried. The look in her eyes was desperate and wild, and the next words seemed to be torn from her. “I have cancer! I’m dying.”
Noah said, “Hey.”
Lori did not look up from the laptop computer on her desk. She had several books open beside it and was frowning over the contents of her screen. “Hay is for horses,” she replied. “What do you want?”
He stepped inside her room. The bed was rumpled, magazines were stacked untidily on the antique nightstand, dirty clothes were scattered on the floor. She had a stereo system with big puffy earphones and a forty-two-inch flat screen television set with a VCR and DVD player/recorder combination. DVDs and CDs in colorful cases were scattered on the floor in front of the equipment. Noah had a television and DVD player in his room, too, which he thought had come from Bridget, who didn’t want them in her room, but most of the movies he had been provided with were either chick flicks or Disney, and after the initial novelty had worn off, he didn’t watch it much.
He said, “Here’s that picture you wanted.” He put a sheet of heavy drawing paper on her desk. “I did it in pencil