Second Chance Mom. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ lowered the volume, earning a pout from Chastity. “Don’t get excited. It’s a rental.”

      “What do you usually drive?”

      “I don’t own a car, so I take public transit. I ride the MARTA or the bus.”

      “The bus? You ride a stinking bus?”

      “Public transportation is very good in Atlanta.” And a car in her neighborhood might get stripped or stolen.

      “You’ll need a car here, and Mom’s...” Chastity’s hair flew as she quickly averted her face to stare out the window, blinking fast. “It’s toast.”

      The broken words squeezed Rachel’s heart. Hope’s car had been totaled, the police officer had said. He’d offered to text pictures, but Rachel had declined.

      “I have this one for now.”

      “So we’ll shop for one? A red one?”

      Rachel’s heart sank. “Probably not, sweetie.”

      “But how will we get around?” Worry tightened Chastity’s features.

      “We’ll use the bus and MARTA.”

      “You’re going back to Atlanta? But...where will I live?”

      Rachel reached across the console and covered a knotted fist. “You’ll live with me.”

      “Your apartment only has one bedroom, and your neighborhood stinks. Mom said it wasn’t even safe for us to visit.” Chastity pulled away to dig a lipstick out of her pocket. She flipped down the visor mirror and slathered on a bold red color that would look good on her in about twenty years.

      “We’ll find a bigger place near good schools. Maybe even a house with a yard big enough to have a garden.”

      “Mom has—had a garden.”

      “I know.”

      “I hated working in it. Bugs. Sweat. Weeds.”

      Rachel didn’t point out that Chastity had often bragged in her emails about her section of the garden. “Okay. No garden. But I’ve never found tomatoes as good as your mom’s anywhere in the world. I was hoping you’d tell me her secret.”

      Silence reigned, then Chastity blurted, “I don’t want to move.”

      Rachel’s heart clenched with empathy. How many times had she said that? “Change is difficult, but together we’ll find the perfect place.”

      “My friends are here.”

      “I know. But you’ll make new friends, and we’ll visit your old ones.” Maybe. That would be risky.

      “Does Atlanta have good shopping?”

      “Second only to New York.”

      “Good, ’cause you need an intervention. You’re a fashion ‘don’t.’”

      Ouch. “I’m dressed for the heat and the ethics where I was working—and for traveling.”

      “Yeah, well...you look like a bag lady.”

      “Thanks, so much. I love you, too, kid.”

      “Will I get to buy cool clothes?”

      “Sure.”

      “You’ll let me pick out the house?”

      “I’ll let you help.”

      For nearly a mile, silence echoed in the car. “Could I be called Chaz there instead of Chastity? I catch a lot of grief over my name. Mom might as well have named me Perpetual Virgin or something equally lame.”

      “You can be Chaz if you want. Or even Faith.”

      “God, no. My middle name’s as bad as my first. Chastity Faith. I mean, seriously, who does that to a kid?”

      “Faith is my middle name.”

      “And you don’t use it, either. Can I get a dog? Mom always said no, but pets are important for teaching responsibility.”

      Rachel laughed. The kid was playing all the cards. “We’ll discuss it when we figure out where we’ll live.”

      “Moving might be okay. I’ll think about it.”

      Chastity didn’t have a choice, but Rachel didn’t push the point as she turned into Hope’s neighborhood.

      Chastity stroked the dashboard. “Can I drive the rest of the way home?”

      Rachel did a double take. “You’re thirteen.”

      “Jess Weaver drives her mom’s car sometimes.”

      “You’re not Jess Weaver.” Rachel wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. How many times had her parents or Hope given her that patronizing kind of answer? She’d always sworn she’d never say that to a kid of her own. But she hadn’t planned to have any children—any more children, that is.

      Logic might work better than argument. “Driving at your age is illegal. If you get caught, you can’t get your license when you turn sixteen.”

      “That would suck.”

      “We’ll find some go-carts somewhere.”

      “Go-carts are for babies.”

      This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “So...Matt Johnston is the detention officer? I didn’t know he’d moved back to Johnstonville.”

      She wasn’t shamelessly milking information out of a kid. Okay, she was, but curiosity was killing her, and she needed to change the subject.

      “He’s the athletic director and the varsity football coach, too. His team’s state champion. Sometimes he substitute teaches or does detention when there’s no ball practice.”

      Matt had dreamed of playing professional football after college. What had happened to his plans? Rachel had always expected to see his handsome face on a cereal box or something. He’d been a gifted athlete, smart and driven. Not smart enough to avoid her, but still...the last place she’d expected to find him living was Johnstonville. He’d known exactly what he’d wanted out of life and had a plan to achieve his goals. She’d envied that.

      She tamped down the thought. “You had him as a substitute?”

      “Yeah. In English. I hate English.” Chastity directed her response to the nonjudgmental window.

      As Rachel drove through the streets dappled by the sun peeking through an oak canopy, her thoughts circled back to those brief weeks with him fourteen years ago. Matt had been perfect in a way she could never be—like Hope. And Rachel had deliberately set out to lead Johnstonville’s golden boy astray. She’d tempted and teased him into taking a walk СКАЧАТЬ