Blossom Street Bundle

“He likes you,” Anne Marie told her. “Would you like to hold him?”

The girl’s eyes grew large. “I’m allowed to do that?”

“Of course. Let me show you how to carry him.” She gave Ellen a demonstration of the way she tucked Baxter between her arm and her side, then handed her the dog.

Baxter wagged his tail, and Ellen couldn’t stop smiling.

“Shall we get some lunch?” Anne Marie asked. “Ms. Mayer said we’ll need to take our lunches back to the classroom. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Ellen looked at her anxiously. “Baxter can come, too, can’t he?”

“Of course,” Anne Marie assured her.

The Yorkshire terrier attracted lots of curious attention as Ellen waited outside the busy cafeteria. “I’ll get our lunch while you watch Baxter,” Anne Marie said.

The menu for the day was chili with corn bread, which Anne Marie remembered was Ellen’s favorite. She chose a fresh salad and canned peaches for herself. Her appetite was improving. Since her lunch with Elise the day before, she’d actually felt the faint stirrings of hunger. Talking to her friend had made her feel calmer and more rational, although Anne Marie wasn’t ready to confront Rebecca yet. She would in time, as soon as she was emotionally prepared to deal with the other woman’s answer.

When she’d assembled their lunch, several of the children had gathered around Ellen, asking questions about Baxter.

“I have to go now,” the child told the others, and Anne Marie grinned at the importance in her voice. Ellen dutifully followed her down the hall toward the classroom, carrying Baxter as though he was the most precious burden imaginable.

The door was open and Ellen led the way to her desk. Anne Marie set the tray down and pulled up a chair next to Ellen’s.

“What about Baxter?” Ellen asked, carefully putting him down. “We can’t eat in front of him, can we? That would be impolite.”

“Yes, it would,” Anne Marie agreed. She’d brought along a small can of gourmet dog food, which was a rare treat for him. As she retrieved it from her purse, Baxter practically did flips of joy.

Ellen giggled, covered her mouth with her hand, then giggled again. “He’s so funny.”

“Yes, he is,” Anne Marie said, smiling, too.

Ellen seemed far more interested in Baxter than in eating her own lunch. She watched Baxter wolf down his food before she turned to her own plate. “One time my mama said she’d buy me a dog.”

Knowing the girl lived with her grandmother, Anne Marie wasn’t sure how to comment.

“What kind of dog do you want?”

Ellen looked up from her chili. “Any kind. But Mama made lots of promises she never kept. I live with my Grandma Dolores now.”

“Does she have a dog?”

Ellen shook her head. “She said she’s too old to take care of a dog.”

“How old is she?” Anne Marie asked.

Ellen contemplated the question. “Really, really old. I think she’s over fifty.”

Anne Marie managed to suppress a smile. “That old,” she said, exaggerating the two words. Her guess was that the woman was actually quite a bit older.

“She sleeps a lot.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t mind. She lets me watch TV as long as I do my homework.”

“She loves you very much, doesn’t she?”

Ellen swallowed a bite of her corn bread. “And I love her,” she mumbled.

“I’m sure you do.”

“Only…only Grandma’s too old to get me a dog.”

“I’ll be happy to share Baxter if you’d like,” Anne Marie offered.

Ellen’s eyes lit with pure joy. “You promise?”

“We’re Lunch Buddies, aren’t we?”

Ellen nodded enthusiastically. She took another spoonful of her chili and paused long enough to pet Baxter.

“We should probably take him for a walk once you finish your lunch.” Anne Marie had brought a plastic bag in case nature called while Baxter was outside.

“I’m full,” Ellen said decisively, planting both hands on her stomach.

“Positive?”

“Yup. Can we go now?”

They brought their trays back to the cafeteria and Anne Marie carried them inside, remembering how Ellen had instructed her the week before. When she’d put them away, the two of them walked outside.

Typical for early March in the Pacific Northwest, a fine mist was falling. Most of the children ignored the rain, as did Ellen and Anne Marie. They strolled through the yard, making for a small grassy area nearby, and Anne Marie let Ellen take the leash. A dozen kids trailed behind as if she were the Pied Piper. They would’ve followed Ellen and Baxter out of the yard if the recess monitor hadn’t intervened.

As usual, Baxter sniffed every inch of territory as he trotted toward the gate. “How’s school?” Anne Marie asked, walking side-by-side with the eight-year-old. She hoped to become better acquainted with Ellen, although it seemed she had to drag every morsel of information from the child. Thus far, all she knew was that Ellen liked dogs and lived with her grandmother, who was over fifty and therefore “really old.”

“Good.”

That wasn’t a lot of help. “Do you have any problems with math?”

“Nope. Grandma Dolores says I’m smart.”

“I’ll bet you are.”

Ellen seemed to have nothing else to say. She concentrated on the dog, praising him and periodically bending down to stroke his silky ears.

Anne Marie had hoped for more progress today. She’d seen some, thanks solely to Baxter, but now that she’d made a commitment to the program and to Ellen, she was eager for the next breakthrough.

“Does he know any tricks?” Ellen asked.