The minute the thought surfaced, she pushed it back. She wasn’t quick enough to stop the sting of tears, though, the horrible ache in her throat. Her breath puffed out in a cloud as a soft sob escaped. This park had been her playground, the place where she and Mom had come, just the two of them. Before Mom had gotten that stupid job. Before the baby was born.
Heather swiped at her cheeks, her gloves scratching her wind-chapped face. It wasn’t fair to blame the baby. She pictured Mary Beth’s cute little face, her round blue eyes, the way her dark blond hair flipped up around her tiny ears. The kid slobbered a lot, but that was probably because she was getting more teeth.
Pride nudged her. She was getting good at guessing what was wrong with Mary Beth, tending to the baby’s needs. Sometimes, she even felt sort of like a mom, which was a pretty weird feeling for a thirteen-year-old girl to have.
She felt old one minute and young the next. She wanted to be a little kid again, then five minutes later she wanted to drive and go to parties and hang out alone with Robbie Sanders. She’d been thinking about sex lately and that made her feel really confused—and guilty. Robbie wanted to do it and she kept saying no. Her friend Gina Warnelli said it was no big deal, that she should just go ahead and do it. But Gina had a bad reputation, and Heather didn’t want everybody talking about her that way.
She couldn’t admit to any of her friends that she didn’t really know anything about sex. They’d think she was some kind of prehistoric creature or something. But who was she supposed to ask? Not her dad. He’d blow a gasket. He’d immediately assume she was talking about Robbie, and he’d do something stupid, like taking the phone away or grounding her till she was thirty or something. Her dad already thought Robbie was too old—just because he was in high school! That was so stupid. It wasn’t like she was a baby or anything.
She kicked at the sand where glistening snowflakes turned the earth damp. Her heart lurched when she saw a shadow from the corner of her eye. Her fingers tightened against the chain. What if some bad guys tried to come and take her?
A whimper sneaked past her throat, catching her off guard, scaring her half to death. Then she really did feel like a baby. Nobody was there…were they? Her eyes burned from staring and her palms stung where the chain cut into them through her wool gloves.
Maybe she should go find a phone and call Robbie. Or maybe she should just go home. She’d told Darcie Moretti she was gonna run away, but so what? Darcie only knew her name, not what she looked like or anything. It wasn’t like she’d have to face the lady or anything. And Dad didn’t know she was gone. He was at that stupid Daddy Club meeting trying to figure out how to be a Mr. Mom.
She rolled her eyes. If only he’d just get a clue.
Headlights swept the playground equipment as a compact car pulled to the curb. Heather’s heart pumped.
Daddy?
Relief swept her and she nearly cried out. Then she took a closer look, her heart dropping like a stone.
It wasn’t Daddy. The car was too small and there wasn’t a baby seat in the back.
And Daddy was totally oblivious to what she was doing anyway. Like that was any big news flash, she thought.
As whoever it was got out of the car Heather picked up a rock and cupped her gloved fingers around it. She was scared. She was sorry she’d come out here. She was cold.
Tears burned her throat, swam in her eyes. It seemed like all she did lately was cry. How many tears did a girl have, anyway? The problem was, she didn’t even know why she hurt this way. Her insides stung, felt like they were churning, like if she just opened her mouth, all the bad thoughts would bubble up and come out in a loud scream.
Her fingers tightened around the rock. The person wasn’t so big. And Heather was pretty tall for thirteen. Already five foot five. It gave her an advantage, made people think she was older. Daddy didn’t like that. But so what? Why should he care anyway? He was always so busy, always had those blueprints spread out on his worktable and his head bent over them, always expected Grandma or her to take care of Mary Beth.
Shoot, she was only thirteen, yet he never bothered to wonder who would take care of her, did he?
Her eyes squinted and her heart still raced. It was hard to tell if the figure approaching was a man or woman.
“Heather?” The voice was female. “Heather, it’s Darcie Moretti from the hot line.”
As Darcie came closer, her coat flapped open and the wind plastered her top against her. Heather stared. She thought the lady was fat. But the lady wasn’t fat.
She was pregnant.
Heather’s heart sank. For some reason, pregnant ladies bugged her. Seeing them made her feel bad inside. Her mom had been pregnant and then she’d left.
“May I sit with you?”
Heather shrugged. “I guess.” She watched, intrigued by the way the sling style swing seat molded to Darcie’s hips, by the way Darcie’s pregnant belly pooched out and rested in her lap. “Does that hurt you?”
Confused, Darcie frowned. Then she noticed the direction of Heather’s gaze. Guilt made her grab at her coat, tug it around her. Of all times to let down her guard—and of all people to let it down in front of! “What? The baby?”
Heather nodded.
“No, only when she’s pretending to be a basketball star. That can get a little tricky. Thank goodness she’s still small yet.”
“A she? How do you know?”
“I had a sonogram.”
“Oh.” Heather jutted out her chin and looked away. “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
“No, I suppose it never came up. Little reason it should. Is that a problem?”
Heather shrugged and kicked at the sand. “I told you stuff about me. You could have told me stuff about you.”
“Is that what you’d like?”
“Doesn’t make no difference.”
Darcie skimmed her fingers over Heather’s hair. This young girl was a fraud, trying to act all tough, when she was scared silly and aching for attention. Darcie had seen this same attitude on so many adolescent faces. She’d worn it herself as a teen.
“You know, kiddo, I wouldn’t go back to being your age for all the money in the world.”
Heather’s eyes filled and Darcie slid off the swing, sank to her knees in front of her and gathered the young girl in her arms. “Oh, honey, it’s okay. It’s all going to work out.” Please God, let it all work out.
“No, it’s not.” Heather sniffed. “I hate him. He treats me like a baby one minute and then wants me to do grown-up stuff the next.”
“Dads can be a pain sometimes, but yours loves you, Heather. He’s just having trouble finding balance.”
“How would you know?”
Darcie had to tread carefully here. She didn’t want to lose the girl before she had a chance to form a bond. “Because I’ve spent several weeks talking to you on the phone. You’re a good girl, Heather, caring and sweet and smart. Those qualities come from being loved.”
“I guess. I miss my grandma, though.”
Darcie found it odd that Heather mentioned missing her grandmother rather than her mother. She knew Heather’s mom had died five months ago.
Flynn had told her himself—after several shots of whiskey.
“When did your grandma leave?”
“About three weeks ago. Aunt Lois fell and broke her hip or something and Grandma had to stop taking care of us and go take care of her.” She shrugged. “It feels weird in the house