A Pregnancy And A Proposal. Mindy Neff

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 without her.”

      “Did she always live with you?”

      “No. Just since Mary Beth was born.”

      And now Heather had to assume a larger share of the adult responsibilities in the O’Grady household at a time when she should be enjoying a carefree youth. Darcie understood that all family members—regardless of age—needed to pull together and do their part, but she still felt bad for Heather, for the obvious pain and hurting that would cause the girl to cry out for help by way of the runaway hot line.

      They were quiet for a moment, and Darcie pulled back, sensing that Heather had shown enough of her vulnerabilities for the moment. And Darcie’s own vulnerabilities were about to eat her alive. This was Flynn O’Grady’s daughter, and she longed to just hold her, to fix her, to love her the way she loved Heather’s father.

      Impossible. Darcie knew that much better than most.

      Feeling an ache born of hopelessness, she stood and looked around. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

      “It’s okay.”

      Good thing Darcie had a lot of patience. It could get trying when a young person was determined to disagree—or to make a point not to totally agree—with everything an adult said.

      “So what is it about this park that’s special to you?”

      Heather thought about not answering. Her feelings were private. And it was different talking to Darcie on the phone. It felt more anonymous. Face-to-face made those scary emotions do freaky things to her brain, made her feel stupid and embarrassed. But Darcie wasn’t looking at her like she was stupid.

      “This is where my mom used to take me when I was little.” Heather watched as her breath puffed out in a white cloud. “She would push me on the swings and hold my hand when I went down the slide. And she laughed a whole lot back then.” Oh, God, the hurt inside was really bad.

      “You miss your mom.”

      “I guess.” She hated admitting to a need. “I miss Grandma, too, but at least she’s not dead.”

      “I’m sorry about your mother, sweetie. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent. As much as my mom and I fight, I can’t imagine being without her.”

      Heather looked up. Most people said they knew what it felt like, even if they didn’t. Darcie Moretti spoke honestly. And she didn’t talk down to her or shy away from sad subjects. “Do you, like, live with your mom still?”

      Darcie laughed. “No. I have my own place, but sometimes I wonder why I shell out the money. I’m at my folks’ house a lot. Mealtimes especially. Ma takes it as СКАЧАТЬ