Chapter 23: Starting Over

I got up a little after eight and shared a shower with Mom the next morning. I peeked into Lisbeth's room and saw her still fast asleep. I took my coffee and breakfast — a bagel — into the kitchen and sat down. It was time to finish things up.

I had to check Charli's accounts and see what was there, and sign some sort of papers for Lisbeth's custody. I also had to think — really think, deep inside myself — about how I felt about Donny. His offer was legitimate and sincere; I had to give it serious consideration.

I had enough sex to keep me happy. Donny would come over at the drop of a hat, and Mom was close enough to touch. No, sex wasn't going to be a problem. The emotional stuff was going to be the hard part. I set my priorities and got down to business. The first item was Lisbeth.

I woke her with a kiss on the cheek and told her to meet me in the kitchen. Mom was gone to Wal-Mart for paint or something, and we were headed to our bank. The first part was fairly easy: I gave the bank manager a death certificate, and he opened the safety deposit box. In it were some really nice necklaces and two rings, and about $1500.00 in cash. I left the jewelry in the box and put the cash into my purse, then I went back to the manager.

I showed him Charli's will, and he made three copies. Lisbeth's college account had $2700.00 in it, and I signed cards making me a co-owner of the account along with Lisbeth, and the sole owner of the safety deposit box. I also added the $1500.00 from the deposit box to her college account. In case something unexpected happened to me, I signed Rights of Survivorship over to Lisbeth.

Lisbeth and I had talked on the way to the bank, and I understood why she didn't want to be adopted. She had no problem at all having me as her guardian. I was going to apply for temporary guardianship, and I figured by the time the wheels of the bureaucracy moved, she'd be twenty-one.

The next stop was the Social Services Office, and the trouble started there. I had a letter from Elmer and Diedre, giving up their grandparent's custody rights — it was worded rather oddly, I thought, but I understood what it said. It wasn't notarized and it hadn't come from the Fargo office of Social Services, so the lady behind the desk said she couldn't help me. When I asked her what hoops I'd have to jump through — I didn't word it quite that way, but that was what I meant — she got snotty and said I'd have to go to Lisbeth's last place of residence and file there.

I leaned over and said, "She lives with me and my mother. She just lost her mother a few weeks ago. Her mother also lived with us. This is her last place of residence."

The lady's eyes got very large, and she stammered, "Wait he ... wait here, please. I'll get my supervisor."

The supervisor, Alden Elliott by name, was a tall, stoop-shouldered gentleman about sixty years old who had a kindly face. We adjourned to his office and shut the door. About an hour later, we left his office with signed and sealed guardianship papers in hand. Lisbeth smiled and hugged me.

A few days later I went to work and was shocked to discover I'd gotten a promotion. Roberta called me into her office late in the day and closed the door.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"All right, I guess. I still bawl for no reason sometimes, but I'm functional."

She smiled and said, "That's good, because you're taking over my job and I'm moving up to Human Resources Training."

"What?" I exclaimed, and sat straighter in my chair.

"You now have a degree. An Associates, true, but more than enough to do my job. Pat thought if we kept you busy, you wouldn't have time to think too much."

"I don't know what to say, except thanks."

"Drop by Pat's office tomorrow and thank him personally. Be cordial and professional, but don't fawn over him. He's just a guy."

I laughed. "Okay, I will. Is there anything else I need to know?"

Roberta's face lost its smile. "There's one girl out there that is shirking and passing her work on to others. When you catch her, bring her to me."

"No sooner said than done," I said. "Who is she?"

Bobbi smiled. "You'll catch her. She doesn't cover her tracks very well."

Later that night, Mom and I were in bed talking. I'd told her about my promotion and the instant challenge.

"That's going to be good for you, you have to move on."

"Did I tell you Donny wants to marry me?"

Mom smiled thinly. "Every girl needs a father in her life."

"I can't think of that right now, not so soon after Charli..." I couldn't say the word 'died', and 'passed away' seemed so ... so neutral and insignificant.

Mom hugged me. "Give it time, you will heal. We all do."

I remembered my dad about then, and started to sniffle. "It hurts too much right now," I said.

"Instead of remembering your loss, remember your gain. What did you get from Charli?"

"Love," I said, " and affection, companionship ... we had fun, too."

"Those are superficial things, except for the first one. The most powerful man on Earth is a wimp compared to most women. Men seek power; they're greedy and self-centered, and they're weak. They start the wars and women pick up the pieces."

"Why do women get married then?" I asked.

"For family and children," she said. "I think someone once wrote, 'They who have no tears in their eyes have no rainbows in their souls'. What you got from Charli was a lot more than love; she's given you tears for your eyes, rainbows for your soul and her daughter to love. I don't believe anyone has given you more, not even your father."

My tears dripped on her shoulder as I quietly cried, realizing I had been given a precious gift. Squandering it would be a crime of immense proportion. My life would go on.

Lisbeth and I became closer as time went on. She was a little apprehensive at first to ask me personal questions, but when she learned I'd give her honest answers, she opened up. I gave her factual information about her mother and me, how we'd loved each other and why, and a few tidbits about the sexual parts. Small tidbits, not blow-by-blow descriptions.

Lisbeth was growing fast, all elbows and knees, but she was going to be very pretty when she became an adult. At fourteen, she was tall and lanky for her age — about five feet six — and slender. Her hair, that apricot/ginger/pale-cinnamon shade that a lot of the Irish people seem to have, reached the middle of her back. It was thick and wavy, and she took very good care of it. Her freckles were cute, her body was developing a nice figure and her personality shined. She was going to make some lucky SOB a wonderful partner. One night in December, she came to my room.

I was getting ready for bed sitting at my vanity, brushing my hair.

I heard a light 'tap-tap' on the door and called, "Come in."

"It's me!" she said, and bounced onto the bed.

"Hi, me," I replied. "What're you up to?"

"Hangin' out and gettin' ready for bed," she said.

"Last day of school tomorrow," I said.

I sensed she wanted to talk. Her eyes took in the room to see if anything had been moved since her last visit, and she was visibly nervous.

I turned to her and asked, "Would you like to brush my hair for me? We can chat if you want."

She leaped off the bed and took my hairbrush.

I could see her face in my mirror, and she had the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth, a family trait I recognized as concentration. Her hands were steady, and she worked the brush through the tangles with minimum discomfort to me.

Sly old adult that I was, I asked, "What did you want to talk about tonight?"

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. "A couple things. Mainly what to do when you like someone."

I said, "Get to know them, chat with them and be a friend. Is he in any of your classes?"

Her pale skin got very flushed and she retorted, "I didn't say it was a he."

"Well then, is she in any of your classes?"

"Yeah, two, but she hangs with a different crowd. We eat lunch together sometimes, but it's always in a group."

I laughed and asked, "What would you do with her if you got her by herself?"

Her face dropped and she said, "I don't know. Maybe talk to her. I just want to be close to her. I like her."

I turned around and spread my legs — she couldn't see anything, I had my nightie on — and pulled her to me.

"Does your tummy get all tingly when you see her, or when you're close to her?" She nodded, blushing a pretty shade of pink. "That means you're attracted to her. Do you think of her when you masturbate?"