Someone to Care

The misty breeze off the ocean whipped strands of hair across Angie’s face. She breathed in the salty spray as she stared out to the horizon, watching the swells grow larger and finally tumble over in a cap of foam. A large wave came up almost to her toes, causing Axel to yip and tug at the leash. He was itching to run free and romp in the water. As the wave rolled back out, the rocks tumbled over each other, a sound that only the ocean can make; a sound that Angie loved. Angie had grown up camping at La Push and Kalaloch on Washington’s rugged Northern coastline. Pristine white, sandy beaches were fine, but the craggy, wild shorelines of the La Push beaches had always called to her. It was her happy place and now, also her place of anguish. Angie closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She didn’t really want to keep reliving the worst day of her life, but she couldn’t stop the images once they started. It was early April, the same as it was now, the same time that Angie had come for the last ten years. Unlike today, where the sun was glistening off the water and warming Angie’s face, that April was cold and windy and raining. The ocean was churning and roiling and angry. There were piles of driftwood everywhere and more logs being tossed around in the waves. By the third day, the skies stopped dumping, and the wind slowed a bit - thank goodness. She and Jon had packed for the possibility of bad weather and stuffed their little trailer with a myriad of games and projects to keep four-year-old Sophie occupied during a rainy day, but they had all reached their limit by the time the storm let up.

“Mommy, can we go to the beach now?”

“In just a bit. Mommy is just going to clean up the dishes. Go put on your coat and your rubber boots. And your sock hat, it’s still stormy and cold.”

Sophie was bundled up for the beach in two shakes. “Daddy, will you help me zip my coat.”

“Mommy, let’s go, pleeeease,” Sophie whined.

Jon grabbed his coat off the hook. “How about you and I go down and we’ll wait for mommy by the trail?”

“Yippee,” cried Sophie!

“Be careful,” warned Angie, “those waves are still dangerous.” “Sophie, you stay right by Daddy!”

Angie put away the breakfast food and gathered the dishes into the sink, filling it with warm soapy water. It felt good to have a moment of solitude, even if it was just to wash the dishes. She was drying the last bowl when she heard shouting from somewhere down the row of RVs and then saw the campground security officer speed past in that direction. Angie wondered if there was a fight going on. As she pulled on her rubber boots, the sound of distant sirens reached her ears, and a little warning bell went off in her head. Angie ripped her jacket from the hook and put it on as she went out the door. As she rounded the end of the trailer, Angie saw people running towards the beach, shouting, but not until she got closer, did she hear the word that sent a chill down her spine – "drowned!” Angie bolted for the beach where a crowd was gathered around someone on the ground. She scanned the group and then quickly up and down the beach looking for Jon’s bright yellow coat and Sophie’s purple one but couldn’t see them. Then, as she ran towards the commotion, she saw the flash of yellow and realized it was Jon laying on the sand. A scream escaped from her, and the crowd turned and parted. Angie fell to her knees in the wet sand and then clasped her hand over her mouth. Something was so wrong with his head. It was practically caved in on one side. “Is he dead,” Angie shrieked!! “What happened?” “Where’s Sophie? Where’s Sophie! Where’s my daughter,” she screamed!

Angie leapt to her feet and ran towards the water, frantically searching for Sophie. It was then that she saw the Coast Guard boat and several men in wet suits - probably local surfers - who had waded in as far as they could and were scanning the agitated waves. Angie stumbled into the icy water, falling to her knees, and staggering back up. Her boots filled with salt water, and she kicked them off, all the while screaming Sophie’s name at the top her lungs. The water was full of so much debris that she couldn’t keep her balance. The next wave knocked her over backwards and she was suddenly under water, fighting off pieces of wood and seaweed. She tried to open her eyes, thinking she could look for Sophie underwater, but they burned from the salt and filled with the roiling sand. Suddenly a pair of strong arms lifted her from the water and brought her back to the shore. “No, no, no…. Sophie ….,” she gasped, trying to free herself from the man’s grasp. “Sophie, Sophie,” Angie sobbed over and over.

“You cannot help your daughter if you are gone,” he said. “We will find her.” Two women from the local Quileute tribe rushed up to Angie and wrapped her in a blanket. The medics had arrived and were carrying Jon off the beach on a stretcher. Angie knew she should find out where they were taking him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the ocean. “They’re going to find her, dear,” one of the women said, but Angie knew, deep in her gut, that her world had just been ripped apart. Her beloved ocean had taken her heart and soul.

Jon had lived three more days after the driftwood had smashed in his skull as he desperately had tried to free Sophie from the tangle of bull kelp that she was caught in. On the same day, Sophie’s small little body washed up on the next beach. Angie had no memory of the funeral or how she got through the days and weeks that followed. If it hadn’t been for her mother, she didn’t think she would even be alive. Her mother, having lost a child of her own before Angie was born, was her rock. She made Angie get up and dress and eat. She let her fall apart when she needed to, but also made her wash her face, take a deep breath, and move forward. She talked about Sophie and Jon all the time, keeping their memories alive. Angie learned to appreciate this as time went by, especially the memories of Sophie. She mourned for Jon, too, but it wasn’t the same. The loss of Sophie was so huge, so all encompassing, that there wasn’t much left of her heart for Jon. The truth was, although she would never know exactly what happened, there was a part of her that blamed him. Why had he let her get that near to the water? How was he not close enough to her to pull her to safety? Yes, he was a city boy, but anyone could see how dangerous a stormy ocean could be. Over the last decade, Angie had worked hard to put those thoughts behind her, to forgive Jon, and to be grateful that Sophie and her daddy were together. That is why she came back each year, to try to find some place of peace. To remember and then move forward once again. To somehow let Sophie know that she had never been forgotten.

“Hey, can I pet you dog?”

Angie jumped, startled out of her reverie. Standing next to her was a little girl in a dingy yellow sweatshirt. Her red hair was tangled into a messy ponytail, and she had two different shoes on.

“Are you crying,” the girl said with a scowl on her face.

Angie swiped the tears from her cheeks and said, “Uh, no. I just…..” She let the words trail off.

“So, can I pet your dog?”

“Sure, his name is Axel.”

“Hi Axel, I’m Taylor,” the girl said as she patted the dog’s head. “Does he like to play fetch? Does he have to be on this leash?”

Something about this little girl was unsettling. Angie scanned the beach in both directions and saw no one. This little girl was way too young to be on the beach by herself. “Taylor, how old are you? I don’t see your parents,” said Angie.

“I’m seven years old,” she said with a big smile, “Can I throw a stick for Axel?”

“I think we better get you back to your parents. They must be looking for you.”

“My dad and stepmom are fighting. They’re always fighting. They don’t care about me,” Taylor stated matter-of-factly.

“Are you in an RV, Taylor, or a cabin? Let’s go let your parents know where you are.”

As it turned out, Taylor’s parents were in a 5th wheel just a couple spaces down from her. As they approached the RV, Angie could hear raised voices inside. She felt like an intruder knocking on the door, but she had to let them know their little girl had been on the beach all by herself. Inside, she heard a woman say, ‘Who the hell is knocking on the door?’

The door whipped open, and an exasperated man ran his fingers through his wavy blond hair. He spotted Taylor, and without even a ‘hello’ to Angie, said, “Was she bugging you? Taylor, get in here and leave people alone!”

Angie started to tell him that she was concerned that Taylor was on the beach alone when the door shut in her face. She stood there, stunned, and feeling a growing anger in the pit of her stomach. How could any parent be that unconcerned for their child’s welfare? She wanted to tell them how quickly the rug could be pulled out from under them, but she knew it wasn’t her place to transfer her experience onto other people’s lives. Still, as she and Axel walked back to her trailer, she felt annoyed at the rudeness and shortsightedness of that man.

After lunch, she took Axel back down to the beach and let him run free of the leash. He greeted everyone, human or beast, with tail-wagging enthusiasm, hoping for someone willing to play. Angie looked for pretty rocks and talked to Sophie. She liked to tell her what was going on in her life and how Sophie’s grandparents were. Angie, who had always loved to cook, had a store in Port Townsend that sold specialty oils, vinegars, and spices. She also sold kitchen gadgets and serving pieces from around the world. Several times a month she taught classes on how to use what she sold in different recipes. Angie would tell Sophie about her travels to purchase unique items for the store and about the interesting people who came to her classes. As she stooped to pick up a beautiful caramel colored rock, the thought occurred to her that Sophie would be a teenager now and maybe would be helping around the store. Of course, if Sophie had lived, she probably wouldn’t have the store. Angie had been an attorney in Port Angeles, working in family law, but she left her practice six months after Sophie drowned. She couldn’t stomach how people used their children as pawns to get back at each other or watching innocent children being tossed in and out of foster care. She thought of Taylor then and wondered where her mother was and hoped that she had custody, and this was just a visit with her father. She knew she shouldn’t jump to such conclusions – every couple has an occasional argument – but something about it nagged at her.

The sunset that night was stunning, as ocean sunsets often were, and Angie decided to have a campfire. She was relaxing by the fire with a glass of wine when she heard the sing-songy voice of a child. Axel let out a little ‘woof’ and Taylor came running towards them. “Axel,” she yelled, and wrapped her arms around him. Axel gave her doggy kisses while his tail wagged at a fierce speed. Angie watched them and wondered for the first time if Axel got bored living with her. He probably wishes he had a kid, she thought.

“Hi, Taylor. Does your dad and mom know you’re here?”

“They went in the bedroom and shut the door. Do you have smores?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t really eat smores.”

Taylor just shrugged and plopped on the ground next to Axel. Angie got up and took out a second chair. “So, Taylor, do you live with your dad all of the time, or do you live with your mom sometimes?”

“My mom left when I was a baby,” she said flatly. “My dad says he doesn’t know if she’s dead or alive, but she deserves to be dead for saddling him with me.”

Angie tried to keep the look of horror off her face, but doubted she was masking it very well. “I’m sure he’s just teasing you, honey.”

“No, they don’t want me. My stepmom is always telling my dad to leave me at my grandma’s when they go on trips, but my grandma is not very healthy. She has to be wheeled around in a chair.”

Angie wondered if Taylor was exaggerating a bit, as children often did, to get attention. She thought maybe she should change the subject. “So, do you have a dog at home, Taylor?”

“No, my stepmom is allergic. ‘We did have a cat, but we had to get rid of him when her and dad got married. I didn’t like that dumb old cat anyway, but I wish I had a dog. I wish Axel was my dog.”

Angie didn’t know how to respond to that. She was trying to think of a safe subject, when she heard Taylor’s dad calling for her. ‘At least he is looking for her,’ Angie thought.

Taylor sighed. “I guess I have to go,” she said. “Bye Axel,” and she gave him a big hug.

“Bye, Taylor,” Angie said, and to her astonishment added, “Come back tomorrow night and we’ll make smores.”

“Yippee,” Taylor shouted, and Angie felt a little pang at the memory that phrase brought up.

The next day, as Angie took Axel for a walk on the beach, she found herself talking to Sophie about Taylor, telling her about the bedraggled little girl whose parents didn’t seem to have much concern about where she was or what she was doing. Angie threw a stick for Axel and wondered, for the millionth time, why God had taken her little girl, who had been so loved and treasured. In the softest whisper, Angie felt, more than heard, Sophie say, “Maybe God needs someone to treasure Taylor.”

Angie stood lost in thought until Axel, impatient for her to throw the stick again, barked at her. “Ok, boy, ok.” She threw the stick and ambled in the same direction. In her thoughts she reminded herself that she didn’t really know anything about Taylor or her family. She didn’t know why she couldn’t get the little girl out of her mind.

That evening, as Angie built a fire, she wondered if Taylor would show up. She had gone to the little store that afternoon and bought all the fixings for smores, including roasting sticks. Angie didn’t have to ponder long as Taylor came bounding in before the kindling had burned.

“You remembered,” Taylor exclaimed at the sight of the ingredients for everyone’s campfire favorite. “Can we make them now?”

“Hold on, we have to let the fire make some coals first.”

Taylor played with Axel, asking every few minutes if the fire was ready. Angie finally decided, ready or not, they were going to make smores. She had forgotten how yummy they were as she bit into the warm marshmallow and melted chocolate. Taylor had gobbled up two and was begging for a third.

“That’s a lot of sugar for this late at night,” said Angie. “I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy with me if I send you back all hyped up on sweets.”

“They don’t care, they’re not even there.”

“What do mean they’re not there?”

“They went into town,” said Taylor. “Dad said they were just going for a couple of drinks and to stay in the trailer.”

Angie knew her mouth was hanging open, but she didn’t dare speak in case she put voice to what she was thinking.

Taylor shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to find someone to care about you,” she said matter-of-factly.

Angie took a ragged breath. “Taylor, no child should have to look for people to care about them.”

Taylor shrugged again. “Do you have someone to care about?

Angie hesitated, but then said, “I used to. I had a husband and a little girl named, Sophie.”

A look of fear crossed over Taylor’s face. “Did you leave them like my mommy left me?”

Angie looked out toward the ocean and took a deep breath. “No…. no, they left me. My little girl drowned, and her daddy died trying to save her.”

“That’s why you’re so sad,” Taylor said. “You need to find someone to care about.”

Angie stared into the fire for a long time. This child’s candor was unnerving. She simply spoke the truth as she saw it, no expectations of anything from anyone.

When Taylor’s parents still weren’t home at 9:30, and Taylor was falling asleep in the camp chair, Angie brought her into her trailer and snuggled her under a blanket on the bed. Angie felt a surge of anger at Taylor’s dad for leaving this child all alone. She knew there wasn’t a specific age limit in Washington, but any decent parent knew that if wasn’t safe to leave a seven-year-old unsupervised, especially at night. She was going to have to talk to Taylor’s father. Part of her was irritated that these ignorant parents had put her in this situation. This was supposed to be her time of solitude and reflection, but she could not let this go. She looked down at Taylor, her hair still a mess and a bit of chocolate on the side of her mouth and wondered how many times this child had been left alone.

Angie poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at the table to wait for Taylor’s parents to come home. It was nearly 11:00 when she saw them come back, driving a little erratically. She waited for 15 minutes for someone to come knocking on her trailer door, but no one came. Then she realized they may not know which space she was in. She took her coat off the hook and went quietly out the door. She didn’t want to wake up Taylor until she was sure her parents weren’t fighting. When she got to their RV it was totally dark and quiet. She knocked lightly on the door. No response. Angie knocked again, this time a little louder. Still no response. “Hello,” she called out. How could they not hear her? She didn’t want to wake up the neighbors, but this time she pounded on the door rather loudly. Complete silence. Were they passed out? How could they not be concerned about Taylor? Did they even know she wasn’t in there? Angie felt her level of disgust for these people rise several notches. In the end, she went back to her trailer, grabbed a blanket and pillow off the bed and tried to get some sleep on her little couch.

The next thing Angie knew, Taylor was standing by her asking what kind of cereal she had.

Angie forced open her eyes and shoved herself up to sitting. Through a yawn, she said, “I don’t have any cereal.”

Taylor looked at her quizzically. “Then what do you eat?”

“Coffee,” said Angie. “I need coffee.”

Taylor scrunched up her little face. “I don’t drink coffee,” she said.

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Angie with a little chuckle. “How about toaster waffles?”

“Yes, please!”

As Angie sat with her hand wrapped around her mug of steaming coffee, watching Taylor devour the waffles like she’d never had anything that good, she thought about what she needed to say to Taylor’s dad.

“Taylor, what’s your daddy’s name?”

“Sam.”

“Sam what?” “What’s his last name?”

“Becker, same as mine,” Taylor said through a mouthful of waffle.

“And where do you and your parents live?”

“We live in Port Angeles. That’s where my grandma lives too, but she’s sick.”

“Is there anyone else in your family that lives in Port Angeles?” Angie was hoping for a caring Aunt and Uncle.

“No, my dad has a brother, but he lives in Arizona.”

Angie nodded. This little girl had no support system. If her dad lost custody, Taylor would end up in the foster care system, which was not always a move for the better. She wondered if she could persuade Taylor’s dad and stepmom to take some parenting classes. Probably not, but Angie could try to make him understand that this could be considered child neglect, and if anything happened to Taylor while she was alone, he could be charged.

When Taylor was finally full, they walked over to her campsite and once again Angie knocked on the door. This time Taylor’s stepmom opened the door, looking like she had slept in her clothes.

“Taylor, what are you doing? Get in here and eat some cereal. Quit bugging people.”

“I already ate. Angie made me toaster waffles,” said Taylor as she went up the RV stairs.

Just then Taylor’s dad appeared. “Mr. Becker,” said Angie, “can I talk to you, please?”

“What,” he asked?

“Could we sit outside for a minute?”

He let out a long breath and then said to his wife, “Is that my coffee?” She handed him the cup and he came out and sat down at the picnic table.

“Look, I’m sorry if Taylor is bothering you,” he said. “I’ll make sure she stays away.”

“Mr. Becker, that is not why I am here. Taylor is a sweet little girl, but she is way too young to be left alone at night.” “Did you even know she slept in my trailer last night? She wasn’t even in your RV and when I knocked repeatedly on your door, neither of you answered.”

A look of anger moved across his features. “What are you, the kid police?”

“No, but I am an attorney and practiced family law for many years.” Even though she hadn’t been in a courtroom for nearly a decade, Angie had kept up her license to practice and she wasn’t past using her knowledge and experience to try to put some sense in this father’s head. She had seen too many tragic situations that had resulted from neglectful parenting.

“If anything happens to Taylor while she is alone, especially at night,” Angie continued, “you could be charged with child neglect or worse.”

This seemed to get his attention. He blew out a long breath and ran his hand over his face. “Listen lady, I never wanted to have kids. Taylor’s mom knew this and got pregnant anyway. Then she just dumped her at my house and disappeared. Last I heard she’s living in Finland or something. What was I supposed to do?”

“Take care of her. Or find someone who would love to have a little girl to take care of, but you can’t just leave her to try to raise herself.”

Sam Becker stared into his coffee but said nothing. After a few minutes, Angie got up and walked back to her campsite.

Over the next couple of days, when she saw Taylor on the beach, her dad was with her. Angie was hoping this might signal a change in her dad’s attitude. On the night before Angie was leaving, she built one last campfire for her and Axel. She shook her head a little at herself as she set out the smores fixings on the table. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was hoping Taylor might wander over. She wanted to talk with her once more before she left; try to reassure herself that this precocious little girl was going to be alright.

Sure enough, Taylor came bouncing up before 15 minutes had passed.

“Hi Taylor, I was hoping you might help me finish up these smores.”

Taylor grinned. “I asked my daddy to buy some smores stuff, but he said he didn’t feel like it. He said I could go see my nosey friend and quit bugging him.”

“Why would he call you nosey? Your nose looks fine to me.”

Angie couldn’t help but smile, but she felt such apprehension for Taylor’s well-being. She knew what happened when children grew up feeling un-loved. They went looking for that attention and affection in all the wrong places. They either became hardened and defiant or desperate and gullible. She wondered if she should try to talk to Taylor’s dad again. He obviously didn’t want the job of raising her, but that was not enough reason to remove a child from the home, and Angie knew all too well that foster care was often not a great alternative. She wouldn’t let herself acknowledge, even in her thoughts, that maybe she could raise Taylor. She had made a firm decision after losing Sophie, that she would never marry or have more children. She couldn’t risk what was left of her heart being destroyed and it always felt like it would be a betrayal against Sophie to love anyone else. Just then Taylor’s words popped back into her mind. “That’s why you’re so sad. You need to find someone to care about.”

As Angie drove away the next morning, her heart and head were in turmoil. “Please God, watch over Taylor,” she whispered.

The next number of weeks were busy, putting out new stock, ordering more merchandise for the quickly approaching tourist season, and taking registrations for upcoming events. Angie’s classes were selling out so quickly, she wondered if she should buy the space next to her and expand the kitchen. It was tempting, but then she would probably have to hire someone else to help teach some of the courses and help in the store. It would also mean more bookkeeping. Angie sighed. She couldn’t seem to make a decision about anything anymore. Just then her phone rang. Her heart gave a little start when she saw the caller I.D. It was her friend, Claire, from Child Protective Services. Angie had called Claire when she got home from the ocean and asked if she knew of a Sam Becker or his daughter, Taylor. Angie had wondered if there had ever been a concerned call from a teacher or neighbor, but there was nothing on file. She had told herself at the time that she needed to quit obsessing, that she was over-reacting, but she couldn’t keep the little girl out of her mind.

“Claire?”

“Oh, hi Angie,” Claire responded in her usual calm manner. “Do you remember the little girl from the ocean you told me about?”

“Taylor; yes.”

“We got a call from the hospital this morning.”

Angie’s heart sank as she tried to prepare herself for Claire’s next words.

“Evidently Taylor’s dad dropped her off at his mother’s house three weeks ago and never came back. The grandmother had a stroke and is in the hospital.”

Angie slowly let out her breath, “and Taylor?”

“Taylor is here. We can’t find any other relatives and she’s asking for you. She says you’ll come because you care about her.”

Angie squeezed her eyes tight and swallowed hard. “I’m on my way,” she said.

Epilogue

“Mom, I have a surprise for you,” said Taylor. “Now close your eyes and don’t peek,” she said as she led Angie out on the sidewalk. As it turned out, Angie had eventually bought the building next door, but not to expand the kitchen. She and Taylor wanted to create a place where kids and young people could gather and feel safe and build meaningful relationships. A place where they could be mentored and nurtured. There was a coffee shop in front, with plenty of couches and tables and chairs, a game room to the side, and a basketball hoop out back. Angie had tapped into her network of past colleagues, as well as the local schools and churches, and asked for people to volunteer, even one day a month, to be a friend, a guide, a tutor, a listening ear. The response had been amazing, and tomorrow was the grand opening. As she held tightly to Taylor’s guiding hands, she thought back on the last eight years and how profoundly this girl had blessed her life. The bedraggled little seven-year-old was now a beautiful young woman, filled with strength and compassion. Together they had learned to not just care about each other but to love each other. Taylor had taught Angie that allowing her heart to love again had honored Sophie, not betrayed her. They still went to the ocean every April, but now it was different. Taylor talked to Sophie just like a sister would and Angie marveled at how real their connection seemed.

Taylor positioned Angie in front of the new shop and said, “Ok, open your eyes!”

Located above the door was a painting of a beautiful ocean scene with the words, “Sophie’s Coffee Oasis.” Underneath, in smaller letters, it read, “A Place Where People Care.”

Angie didn’t even try to hold back the tears as she took her daughter in her arms. “You are my saving grace, Taylor. I love you.”