Free Follow the Stars Home by Luanne Rice Page A

friend Amy Brooks, and I wanted to introduce her to you.”
The lady bowed her head, looking relieved. She wore a white shirt tucked into blue jeans. The sleeves were rolled up; she wore old sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she'd tied the end with a thin piece of marsh grass. Her eye color reminded Amy of periwinkles, just as they had the other time she had seen her.
“I know who you are,” the lady said, smiling slowly.
Amy stood slightly behind the doctor.
“You were in the playhouse,” the lady said.
“Dr. McIntosh lets me,” Amy blurted out, thinking maybe the lady was going to give her a hard time about it.
“It makes me happy you like it,” the lady said.
Amy frowned, unsure of why the lady should care one way or the other. Confused, she looked at the doctor, and he placed his hand on Amy's shoulder.
“Miss Robbins made that playhouse,” he said. “I bought it from her to put in my waiting room. And my brother delivered it in his truck. That's how we all met.”
“That's a very old story,” the lady said. “I'd like Amy to call me Dianne. Come on in.”
Once Dianne got past that first lurch, seeing Alan's car and thinking bad news , she felt herself relax. Their eyes met and held for a moment. She took in his open expression, the smile lines every mother in Hawthorne loved, and she was so aware of the distance she wanted to keep between them, she forgot to open the screen door.
“How are you?” he asked, entering her studio.
“Fine, thanks. Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, looking around as if her studio were new to him. He made frequent emergency visits, but they were mainly up at the house.
“You've been in here, haven't you?” she asked.
“You usually have it pretty well barricaded,” he said.
She glanced up, saw him smiling wryly.
“You're related,” Amy said. “He told me.”
“Distantly,” Dianne said.
“I'm her daughter's uncle,” Alan explained with kindness in his voice that even Dianne couldn't miss.He was nice to all kids-no one could mistake the fact that he had a gift for talking to them.
How could someone so different from Tim remind Dianne so much of him? Alan was brainy, Tim was cocky. Alan wore the most faded blue shirts Dianne had ever seen, old blue jeans, and hiking boots. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and Dianne had to fight the urge to push them back up. Tim was the family bad boy, and Alan was the scientist. But they were both tall, lean, with an easy, graceful style of movement. Seeing Alan, Dianne always pulled back, as if from Tim himself.
“Deeee,” Julia said, coming to life. “Deeeee!”
“Oh!” Amy said, shocked, stepping back at the sight of Julia.
Dianne's stomach flipped. Whenever someone saw Julia for the first time, all Dianne's mother-lion instincts kicked into gear. If the people seemed upset, unfriendly, or disgusted, Dianne found a way to get them out fast. She might have expected Alan to warn the girl, but it seemed obvious that he hadn't.
“Is that-” Amy began.
“My daughter,” Dianne said steadily.
“Her name is Julia,” Alan said. “You were asking about her the other day.”
“I saw her chart!” Amy said. Her eyes wide, she took a step toward Julia.
Dianne's shoulders tightened. She clutched herself with folded arms. The young girl had sounded so scared, and now she had a look of morbid fascination on her face. Anger welled up in Dianne, and she started forward to get between Amy and Julia.
“You showed her Julia's chart?” Dianne asked, furious.
Alan just shook his head as if it didn't merit an explanation.
“This is Dianne's workshop,” Alan said.
“Where you make the playhouses?” Amy asked.
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” Amy said. She cast a low glance at Julia, then looked quickly away. She was curious about the little girl. She wanted to stare, but she was polite enough not to. While Alan visited with Julia, Dianne pointed at the half-finished house, directing Amy's attention