Margie shook her head emphatically. “No way. It’s a short enough drive. Plus, I’m not sure I could get back to sleep right now even if I wanted to. I’ll catch a nap before lunch. Now, go and get ready. You’ve already done way too much this morning. And, yeah, I know. You’re happy to do it. And,” she added gently, waggling a finger in Scarlett’s direction, “don’t think for a second that Roz and I aren’t aware of why you work so damned hard around here. I realize after all the lousy hands you’ve been dealt over the years that this will be hard for you to believe, but you’re not going anywhere, sweetie. You’re a good kid, Scarlett. A good kid who’s been failed time and time again by the adults who should have been looking out for her. Roz and I are not going to fail you. Ever. So while we appreciate you helping around the house, you don’t have to run yourself ragged because nobody’s kicking you out of here. Got it?”
Scarlett nodded, impatiently brushing the tears off her cheeks. She had rarely cried in her fifteen years, unwilling to appear weak or emotional, but Margie’s fervent declaration had touched something deep inside that she’d buried long ago under layers and layers of protective shell.
“Got it,” she whispered hoarsely, not trusting herself to talk.
Margie pulled her into a bear hug, and for once Scarlett didn’t flinch at the physical contact, not even when the older woman pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“This is your home now, Scarlett,” she whispered. “So get used to it, hmm? Now, go get ready for school while I pour a gallon of coffee down my throat.”
***
Present Day
Scarlett couldn’t help getting a little teary eyed as she recalled that particular conversation from several years earlier. Picking up her phone she debated whether or not to call Margie, given the lateness of the hour. But when she noticed that her former foster mother had just posted on Facebook fifteen minutes ago, she took a chance and dialed her number, badly needing to hear a comforting voice before tomorrow and the dramatic event that was due to unfold.
“This is kind of late even for you, sweetie,” drawled Margie. “Don’t you have a class tomorrow morning?”
“Not until nine. And you know I never need much sleep. Besides, that’s sort of like the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” teased Scarlett. “You’re still awake at this hour, too.”
Margie yawned. “Yeah, I know. Tried to sleep, but these damned hot flashes suck. Especially now when it’s already starting to get hot here in Vegas. Over ninety degrees today, and we’re still a month away from summer. Besides, Roz offered to get up early tomorrow and hustle the kids off to school. She’s still on disability for a couple more weeks.”
“How’s her shoulder doing?” inquired Scarlett.
Roz had torn her rotator cuff a couple of months ago, though fortunately the tear hadn’t been bad enough to require surgery. Still, she’d had to wear a sling and keep the arm immobile for long weeks, meaning she hadn’t been able to work.
“Getting a little better every day. She’s itching to get back to work, though she’ll be relegated to desk duty for at least a month. But the disability payments don’t cover her whole salary, so she’s getting a little worried about cash flow, even though we took in a third foster kid last month. Though with her at home to supervise the kids, I’ve actually been able to work on some pieces and get them sold.”
Scarlett knew full well that having a third foster child to look after didn’t necessarily translate to more money coming in for Margie and Roz. Not when they spent almost every dollar they received on the children, rather than hoarding it away for themselves. That, of course, was as it should be, but Scarlett knew all too well that many foster parents weren’t as generous. The two women always made sure there was plenty of good quality, healthy food in the house, and that the foster kids in their care had more than enough clothes, shoes, and bedding. There were two big screen TV’s in the house, with access to a wide variety of cable and movie channels, as well as games, books, and other forms of entertainment. They took the kids out for a meal when they could manage, and had even taken a few vacations with them. Unlike every other foster home she’d been in, Margie and Roz took kids in because they genuinely wanted to help, and not because of the money.
She also knew that the two of them were getting closer and closer to retirement, and that they were saving every penny so that could happen sooner than later. Roz’s job as an ER nurse in one of the rougher neighborhoods in Vegas was incredibly stressful, and took a toll on her both physically and emotionally. This shoulder injury had likely set them back a few months in their goal to retire in two or three years time, and Scarlett wished like hell there was some way she could help them out.
But who was she kidding? She was barely surviving right now, working three jobs to scrape together enough money for her share of the rent, school expenses not covered by her scholarship, and a bit of food. Most days she only ate one real meal a day, courtesy of Ananda’s generosity, and supplemented the rest of her diet with snacks like granola bars, chips, and other junk food that had little to no nutritional value but was cheap and filling.
She had never once even hinted to her former foster mothers that things were quite so bleak, knowing full well that they wouldn’t hesitate to send her money or a gift card. And while they could have afforded it, Scarlett already felt so much in their debt for having taken her in back in Vegas that she wouldn’t have dreamed of accepting another dollar from them.
“Well, I guess that’s looking at the bright side, huh?” commented Scarlett. “I mean, when was the last time you actually had time to make a piece of furniture?”
“Months. Maybe closer to a year. But enough about me for now. Tell me why you’re calling at this hour. And don’t feed me any BS, young lady. You might not have lived under this roof for the last three years, but I can still sense when something’s bothering you.”
Scarlett hesitated for long seconds, thinking over her words, before blurting out, “I’m going to meet my father for the first time tomorrow, and have zero idea what to say to the bastard. Any suggestions?”
There was complete silence on the other end for what seemed like five minutes before Margie muttered hoarsely, “Yeah, matter of fact. You can start by telling him to go fuck himself. And now that you managed to shock me speechless with your little announcement, why don’t you try starting from the beginning?”
Margie listened quietly as Scarlett did her best to sum up all that had happened in barely a week’s time - Jackson Gilmore arriving unannounced at the coffee shop, breaking the news that her father had been even more of a shit than she’d imagined, and especially the part about Hannah needing a lifesaving bone marrow transplant.
“And maybe it’s really selfish of me, but I insisted on meeting him face to face before I agreed to be the donor,” finished Scarlett breathlessly. “Was that - I mean, am I being a selfish bitch to expect that of him?”
“No,” assured Margie emphatically. “When it comes to that miserable excuse of humanity who calls himself your father, there’s absolutely nothing you could ask for or expect of him that could ever be considered too much. Speaking of which, I completely agree with this Jack person. You should definitely receive some sort of compensation for this. Christ, Scarlett, you lived like a pauper most of your life, and knowing you I’m pretty sure you’re still living that way now - even though you’d never, ever admit the truth to me and Roz.”