Left Behind

“She wants to meet you.”

“Really?” My heart races with excitement. “Where is she?”

“She’s here, in Texas.”

“She lives in Texas?” My hopes raised, there’s no hiding how I feel. Ms. Evans reads my face and I see her expression falter.

“No. I’m afraid she lives in California”

“So why is she in Texas? Did she come to see me?”

“She came in for your mother’s funeral.”

My eyes widen. I’ve seen my Aunt and don’t even know it. “Really?”

“Yes. She thinks she saw you in the parking lot when she pulled in. But you looked upset and she didn’t want to make it worse by approaching you.”

“But…but Mom’s funeral was a week ago. Why is she still here?”

“She’s been trying to figure out what to do. She wasn’t sure if she should reach out to you.”

“And now she wants to meet me? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I thought you’d be thrilled with the news.”

I am happy. At least I think I am…but something makes me feel even more unsettled than before Ms. Evans came in to tell me my fate. “She wants to see me to decide if she wants to take me, doesn’t she?”

“It’s not like that, Nikki.”

“Has she agreed to take me?” I ask pointedly.

“No. But she hasn’t said no either.”

“So she’s undecided.”

“I think she wants to do what’s best for you. She wants to meet you. Get to know you a little better.”

Great. A test. Just what I need now. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Pushing panic aside, I do my best not to show fear. “Okay.”

Ms. Evans smiles at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think she likes me today.

“I’ll pick you up at noon and you two can have lunch. Get to know each other a bit.”

As if I had any other choice, I force a smile and nod.

***

I tear through all of my taped boxes and Ashley’s entire closet, trying to decide what to wear. There’s just no outfit that screams, I’m a kid you never met, but you should let me live with you anyway. I finally settle for jeans and a pink shirt. The shirt is a bit frou-frou for my taste, but Ashley swears it makes me look sweet and innocent. I’ll take any help I can get.

The whole ride to the restaurant we’re meeting my Aunt at, Ms. Evans tries to make small talk, but I’m too nervous to participate much. I stare out the window, watching the trailer parks fade into the distance as Houston gets closer and closer.

“Mrs. Nichols is very nice, I think you’ll like her.” Evil Evans says as we pull into a parking lot.

“Mrs. Nichols? Is that what I should call her? I guess she’s married?” I’d gone over so many things in my head…thought I was thoroughly prepared for today, but already there’s two things I haven’t even thought of. What do I call her? And what if she’s married and already has kids? Maybe they won’t want another mouth to feed.

“Relax.” Ms. Evans reaches down and covers my hand with hers. I’m not sure why, but I let her.

“I think you can call her Claire, or Mrs. Nichols if that makes you more comfortable. And, no, she isn’t married. She’s a widow.”

“How did her husband die?” I have no idea why I ask the question, but I really want to know the answer for some reason.

“I didn’t ask, Nikki.”

“I guess I shouldn’t either?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

“I think you’ll be fine. You ask what you need to ask. This needs to work for both of you. Not just Mrs. Nichols.” She pats the hand she’s still holding.

I take a deep breath and blow out an exaggerated exhale.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

***

Claire Nichols is nothing like I expected. She’s tall, unlike the petite size my mother and I are. Or were. The petite size my mother was. Her hair is pulled back from her face in a simple ponytail, yet it leaves her looking sophisticated and stylish. She’s wearing a sweater set and skirt, very modern and pretty.

Ms. Evans makes the awkward introductions and leaves us after only a few minutes to deal with another emergency. The second one that’s come up during the two hours I’ve been with her.

“How are you holding up, Nikki?” It seems to be a popular question that grownups like to ask. Very generic, open ended.

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” Claire waits till she catches my gaze. Her eyes take my breath away. They’re the same as Mom’s, pale blue with a dark ring of greenish blue around the outside.

“You have Mom’s eyes.” The words tumble from my lips and I hear them wobble as they reach the air.

Claire smiles hesitantly. “Our mom used to say if it wasn’t for our eyes, she’d never believe we were sisters.”

“You weren’t a lot alike, I guess.”

She shakes her head. “You have her eyes too.”

“I know.”

“Did you know your mom had a sister, Nikki?”

Unsure what the right answer is, I lie. “Yes.” Claire taking me home with her is step one in my plan to find my own sister. I need to make her think my mom would have really wanted me to be with her. My guess is that’s actually the furthest thing from the truth, since Mom didn’t tell me she had a sister until after she died.