Forget Me Never

of your own, that’s where it’s going to be.”  Savannah didn’t mind the work; it gave her something todo.  And it would be nice to have a real room and not have to sleep in the broom closet.  There were three other foster kids, one boy and two girls, and they had bedrooms.  She wasn’t allowed to mix with them or the family to any extent.
“Yes, Sir.”  The differences between her and the other kids weren’t obvious to Savannah, but apparently everyone else understood.  They were clean and she wasn’t.  Savannah ate by herself, slept by herself and played by herself.  She had her own plate, glass, fork and spoon.  No one wanted to eat after her.  And she had to use a hospital portable potty chair because no one wanted to share a bathroom with her.
Mrs. Mosby had said keeping her was worth it, though.  Apparently, the state paid them double for all the trouble she caused them. This confused Savannah.  She had asked if she was a leper, and they had told her ‘no’, so she didn’t understand why she was dirty.  Some nights she washed her hands over and over trying to get clean, but no one ever treated her any differently, no matter how pruny her skin became.
It didn’t really matter, that’s what she told herself.  Savannah tried to be happy.  She sang and made up stories to entertain herself.  And she read everything she could get her hands on.  Her foster mother brought her books that the library was throwing away.  Or at least that’s what she said, why the library was throwing away good books was a mystery to Savannah.  She liked to think that the librarian didn’t mind her touching the books.  That would be nice.  History was her favorite subject, so Mrs. Mosby took extra care to bring her all types of biographies and text books.
Savannah liked Mrs. Mosby. She talked to Savannah quite a bit and let her sit near while she was ironing or mending clothes.  Although, she didn’t care much for some of the things she said.  If her life was going to be as lonely as her foster mother tried to prepare her for, she didn’t really know if she wanted to grow up.
As Savannah sat on a towel in the back seat of Mr. Mosby’s sedan watching the flat landscape go by, she thought about what his wife had told her.  “You’ll never be able to get married, Savannah.  No self-respecting man is going to want to touch you.”  Savannah didn’t really know why she would want a man to touch her other than to be held.  Sometimes she dreamed about being held.  The Mosby kids got hugged, even the other foster kids got hugged occasionally, especially the girls - but as far as Savannah could ever remember, no one had ever hugged her.
“Get out, Kid.  We’re home,” her foster dad held open the door.  Savannah hadn’t even been aware the vehicle had stopped.  As she climbed out and looked up at the stern older man with his balding head and bad teeth, she wondered what her real dad was like.  Savannah bet her dad had a nose.  Harlan said lepers didn’t have noses or toes or fingers, that they rotted off and left holes in their face and stubs on their feet and hands.  The thought of what her parents must have suffered through made Savannah’s heart hurt.  Despite the horrible picture Harlan painted, she longed to be with her real mom and dad.  She longed to be happy.
So right then and there, as she walked into the foster home where she wasn’t wanted except for the money she brought into the household, Savannah vowed to find out who she was.  Flipping the basement stairs light on, she looked down into the lonely gloom, wondering what her life would be like.  Would she ever have a home?  Every night she prayed that God would give her a place to belong and someone to love.
PATRICK
At 13 years old
“All we want to do is look in the well, Patrick.  Go ask your grandpa if it’ll be all right,” Izzy urged as she pushed him toward the gazebo.
It was Halloween night and his Grandfather had decided to have people over.  Thank God the night was winding down.  All he could think about was getting rid of these girls so he could head out to Revel’s.  They were planning on wrapping some houses.  “Oh, all right.  But that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.  I don’t believe you’ll see anything in that old well but water.”
“My aunt said the well was dug by slaves before the Civil War and that it’s magical,” Gertrude crossed her arms in front of her and stuck her nose up in the air so high that Patrick could have seen her brains if it hadn’t been so dark.  “We want to see who we’re going to marry.”
“Marry?  Who wants to get married?”  Patrick thought that he would never understand women if he lived to be a hundred.
“Do you wanna look, Patrick?  There’s no reason it can’t work for boys.  I bet you’d see Mandy’s face.  She’s in love with you.”
A chorus of giggles erupted from the two pint size females who lived to make his life a misery.  Why his gramps insisted he entertain this pair of menaces while he visited with their aunt, he’d never understand.  Grandpa was supposed to love him.  “I’ll ask him for you, but I don’t believe that crap.  And Mandy’s face is the last one I’d want to see.  She’s way too bossy!”
“You need a boss,” Izzy stuck her tongue out at him.
“Geez Louise!  Wait here, I’ll be right back.  And don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”  They weren’t going to drop it, so he made his way over to where the grownups were having drinks to ask permission.  Evermore Plantation had seen its share of parties over the years.  Sometimes Patrick would peek in