Listening for Lucca by Suzanne LaFleur

expected.” I
had
expected that Lucca and I would get along great, that he would get me in a way my parents didn’t. And in a lot of ways he did, but then …
    “That is kind of scary,” Mom said. “But it’s also the kind of thing where you get to show how strong you are.”
    “I’m not, though. I’m all mush inside.”
    “No. It would be so easy for you to get frustrated with a brother like Lucca, one who needs a lot of extra attention.”
    “He’s just a little boy. I know he needs help. And love.” Even if I didn’t always show it.
    “He does. You are very wise to see that.”
    I took a deep breath. “I sometimes wonder if he doesn’t talk because he doesn’t like us.”
    “You know … I wonder that sometimes, too, when I think of the long list of whys; I can’t help it. But think of how he sneaks into our beds to cuddle, or how he reaches up to hold our hands, or how he laughs when we play with him. He wouldn’t do those things if he didn’t like us.”
    “That’s true. Then what is it?” Was it my fault?
    “It’s a mystery,” Mom answered. “But one day, it might just disappear. You just need to hang on and believe it will. That’s what I’m doing.”
    Again, Mom is funny. She tries and she tries and she tries and then she says when it comes down to it, she’s just hanging on.

    I was in the kitchen chopping up veggies from the farmers’ market when the house phone rang.
    “I’ll get it!” I yelled. It was kind of exciting to have the phone ring. So far it had only rung twice, when Grandma called.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi. Is this Siena?”
    “Yes.”
    “It’s me. Sam.”
    “Oh, hi!”
    Sam. I don’t know who I’d been expecting.
    He was so funny: just showed up when he felt like it, just called at dinnertime. Wacko.
    “What’s up?” I asked.
    “Just called to say hi. What are you doing?”
    “Helping make dinner.” I headed back over to the counter and the cutting board. “How’d you get our number?
I
don’t even know this number.”
    “It was on your fridge. With a note that said ‘Learn this number: our new house phone.’ ”
    At first I thought he was joking, but when I turned to look at the fridge, he was absolutely right; the note was there, in Dad’s handwriting.
    “And you memorized it?”
    “Well, I only had to remember the last four digits. The others are the same as everyone else’s in town.”
    “Is that Sam?” Mom asked. “Let me talk to him after.”
    I gave her a look like
she
had ten heads.
    “Just really quick. When you’re done.”
    I nodded at her and turned away.
    “What did you do today?” I asked him.
    “Morgan and I went tubing.”
    “You did?”
    “Yeah, it was fun! You should come next time.”
    “Maybe I will.” Maybe. If I was actually invited. “Where do you go?”
    “There’s a good river about twenty minutes away. My uncle drops us off a few miles up and then meets us at the end where the river dumps into the ocean.”
    “Do you worry about getting pulled out to sea?”
    Sam laughed. “No. Should I?”
    No, that was me. I was the worrywart, about everything.
    “Oh—my mom wants to talk to you.”
    “She does? What for?”
    “No idea.”
    I handed over the phone.
    “Hi, Sam. Yes, I’m fine, how are you? I was wondering if you would be interested in coming over to play with Lucca and I’ll pay you. It will be kind of like babysitting, except we’ll be around most of the time. He seemed to like you and I think having a boy around might be good for him. We could make it a regular thing.”
    My mouth dropped open. What was she
doing
?
    “Yeah, okay … so twice a week? That sounds good for us. Okay, see you then.”
    She hung up.
    “Mom!”
    “What?” she asked innocently.
    “You’re asking him to work here?”
    “Well, not exactly. I’m asking him to play with your brother.”
    “Mom!”
    “Chill out. Didn’t you think he played nicely with Lucca?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “And Lucca liked him.