"Are you kidding? No, I'm home. Do you want to go somewhere?"
"Can't."
When he didn't explain, Shara waited. The silence lengthened. "Maybe we could do something tonight," she suggested.
"Sorry, I've got stuff to do. And, hey, somebody's beeping me. I've gotta go. Talk to you later."
The dial tone sounded in her ear.
Had her mother spooked him? Did he really think her mother would press charges against him? Shara swore, tossed the cordless phone down onto the bed and went to her computer desk.
She leaned down to the cubbyhole on the lower right to turn on the tower. But as she started to straighten, a wave of dizziness rushed over her and she steadied her world by clutching the desk.
Damn. What was going on? She was never sick. No appetite...tired...dizzy. The flu?
Or...
Her period was a week late. Suddenly it all came together. Panicked, she grabbed for her purse. She had to get to a drug store.
And if the pregnancy test was positive?
She ran down the hall and out of the house, too scared to even think about the answer.
****
Chapter Four
The motorcycle zoomed up the street with enough destructive noise to wake every zombie on the planet. Clare was sure the house shook as it pulled into her driveway and she glanced out the window. The figure on the bike wore a black helmet.
Clare had just gotten home, checked on Shara who was still not talking to her and had begun to stir together a meatloaf. Now she stopped when there was a pounding on her kitchen door.
"Just a minute," she called, washing, and soaping, and washing her hands again. She carried the towel with her as she went to the door.
When she opened it, the man said, "Mark Hansen. You must be Clare."
Brad's father was all good-looking charm, mussed hair, motorcycle helmet under his arm. She wasn't sure if she should let him inside the house or not, so she stood where she was. As far as she was concerned, he'd been rude, as rude could be.
It seemed that he knew that. He gave her a boyish smile. "I thought I'd come over in person to apologize."
She didn't know if she wanted Shara to hear this conversation, so she told him that. "My daughter's home and I don't want her to overhear. Do you mind if we talk in the carport?"
"Not at all." He stood down the two steps and waited for her to do the same.
His gaze canvassed her, from bangs to espadrilles. This was a man who was used to women falling at his feet. She could tell.
"I didn't mean to be so flip on the phone," he said, his smile still lingering. "I talked to Brad and hopefully convinced him that young love isn't what it cracked up to be. I warned him that Shara is definitely too young for him to be involved with her."
Was that why Shara was holed up in her room? Because Brad broke up with her? Clare wished her daughter would talk to her, really talk.
"Did Brad agree with you?"
"Let's just say a little bribery doesn't hurt. I convinced him I'd pay to get his bike overhauled."
"And that's all it took?"
"You must know how young men think, Clare. What he thinks he wants today, he won't want tomorrow. Boys his age want immediate gratification. But I pointed out that sometimes that gratification will get him into very hot water."
This is what Clare wanted, of course. On the other hand, she'd hoped Shara had chosen a boy who would really care about her. If Brad would give her up so easily, then he really was a teen-age jerk.
"Do you believe Brad when he tells you he'll stop seeing her?"
"Sure."
She tilted her head and studied him. "You don't think he's telling you what you want to hear, so he can do what he wants."
"Boy, you are suspicious."
"I'm cautious."
"Brad and I look out for each other. When his mom left, we knew we had to count on each other."
How she wished she and Shara could count on each other. Shara could count on her. She just didn't realize it. "I'm glad we could settle this. Shara's going to be hurt, but a little bit of hurt now is better than a lot of hurt later."
"You're right about that," he agreed.
Clare thought he'd turn and go, but he didn't. His gaze ran over her again until he asked, "How would you like to go out this weekend? I know a great club—"
"No."
He blinked as if he never expected that. "No? Just like that? Without even thinking about it?"
"First of all, I don't date. I have too much on my plate. And second of all, Shara would think I was knifing her in the back if I went out with you."
"You wouldn't have to tell her."
"I don't keep secrets from my daughter."
"Brad was right, you are as straight as they come. No fun at all. Maybe that's why your daughter has turned to her wild side."
And with that, Mark Hansen turned, hopped on his bike, started it up, and vroomed out of her driveway. She watched as he rode down the street, hardly stopped at the stop sign, then took a right.
This was exactly what she'd wanted, wasn't it? Then why had the whole conversation made her feel empty inside? The night air was turning cooler and she rubbed her arms, a chill running up her back. Maybe she was over-reacting to everything.
"Clare."
When she heard Joe call her name, she over-reacted to that, too. Why, after all this time with him as her neighbor, she was suddenly more nervous around him, she didn't know. Maybe because she'd told him something personal, something she didn't talk about with anyone, not even her parents. Especially not with her parents.
The idea that Lynnie could be alive—
She was glad Joe came to the back entrance of her carport just then, glad she had something to distract her.
"Hey," she said with a smile. "You're home early."
He gave her a wry grimace. "Some days I do get home in time for dinner at my own house instead of buying take-out."
"You work a lot."
"Yeah, I do, but that's because there's nothing waiting for me at home."
She couldn't tell exactly how he meant the statement, but it seemed to be an opening line to something else, some insight about him, some yearning he still had.
Now she was really over thinking. "Did the motorcycle bother you?"
"Not since he left."
She laughed. "That was the dad of the boy Shara was dating."
"Was?"
"Hopefully was. He said he talked with Brad and made him realize he's too old for Shara. But if he broke up with her, I'll have to contend with that."
"I wanted to talk to you about Shara."
"I don't understand." Did he want to give her advice on how to raise her teen-age daughter? She needed it, but she waited, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.
"I didn't just get home early today. I worked at home all day catching up on bookkeeping. So before I accuse Shara of something she didn't do—Did she have the day off school? The afternoon off? Something like that?"
"No."
"Then she cut classes because she was here this afternoon. I was in the kitchen around one and I saw her going into the house."
Cutting class again. More to add to the grounding list. "I don't know what to do with her."
"She won't talk?"
Clare just rolled her eyes.
"She probably learned that from you, the eye-rolling, I mean."
She realized he was probably right. "Thanks for telling me about her being here today. I'm going to have to tell her you saw her. Will that be a problem?"
"Not for me. She'll probably call me a tattle-tale, but I've been called worse."
Again Clare had to smile in spite of everything. She liked Joe's sense of humor. She liked the way he put things in perspective. She certainly needed that right now.
"I'd better go in and put the meatloaf in the oven. Then she and I have to talk. I'd invite you to supper, but–"
"Yeah, I have a feeling that's not some place I'd like to be
tonight."
"I'd rather skip it myself."
Unexpectedly he laid his hand on her shoulder. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Being a parent is the toughest job in the world, I hear."
The touch of his hand on her shoulder created sensations in her she hadn't felt in a very long time. There was heat and a bit of excitement and a deep-down longing that once belonged to a dream.
But she didn't know if she wanted to dream again and she would have backed away, but she didn't have to because he dropped his hand. "Take care, and if you need to call in the troops, I'm only a phone call away."
When he loped back to his house, it was hard for Clare to tear her eyes from him. She did, though, because she had more than one responsibility that prohibited dreams.
****
Teenagers on lunch break roamed the campus on Monday as Shara stood in the shade of the bleachers with Brad. He was looking everywhere but at her and that scared her. Why couldn't he look her in the eye? Why was he constantly checking his watch? Why couldn't he be like Justin? She'd e-mailed him a lot over the weekend. He was always there for her and seemed to understand everything she was feeling.
Maybe Brad would too, once he knew.
"I know my mom probably scared you."
"Nobody scared me," he protested, still looking down at his sneakers.
"I have some news that could change everything."
Now he did give her a glance. "What kind of news? Did you win the lottery or something?"
She supposed money could change her life, but not as much as this. "I'm pregnant."
Now he stared at her but he didn't speak. His jaw had dropped open a little. He looked as if there had been an earthquake and he was barely left standing. Welcome to the club. She knew what that felt like.
He lay out a string of curse words her mother would be totally unhappy with. She didn't like them much herself. She grabbed his arm. "Brad, this is serious. We have to figure out what we're going to do."
He went rigid and now his stare almost hurt her in its intensity. "We're not going to do anything. I have nothing to do with this. It's on you. You should have been on birth control. What sixteen year old girl these days isn't?" His voice had gone up with each word and other kids were staring at them now, other kids who thought they were having a fight, other girls who would be glad they were no longer together, because then Brad might date them.
He tore away from her and began to walk away. She called his name but he didn't look back.
A blond in her lit class brushed by her and murmured, "Breaking up? That's tough."
Word would spread about what had happened. She didn't think anyone had been within earshot to hear about her being pregnant, but she never knew. And even if no one had heard, in a few months, everyone would know. What was she going to do?
****
The breakfast smells of scrambled eggs and bacon, along with coffee, filled Clare's small house, as she hurried down the hall to rap on Shara's door again Tuesday morning. She'd done that once earlier...before she'd assembled breakfast and called to her daughter. She hadn't heard a reply but that wasn't unusual.
She and Shara had had more than one go-around over the weekend about cutting class. Clare had threatened to pack up the desktop computer sitting in Shara's room and give it to Goodwill. It was a bit of a dinosaur, but it still worked for what Shara needed. Clare had passed it down when she'd gotten her laptop.
Shara had looked wild-eyed and panicked at Clare's threat, mumbling about not being able to do the schoolwork she did have. So Clare had hesitated. Why did she never know exactly what to do?
Breakfast was usually cereal or toast. Had she felt guilty she'd been so angry lately? And cooking put her in a better mommy league?
When Clare opened Shara's door, she didn't see her daughter right away, but that didn't concern her. Maybe Shara was digging in her closet for something to wear today. The covers were thrown back on the bed as if she'd just climbed out.
"Shara?"
No answer. The closet door was open, but Shara was nowhere to be found.
Where was she?
Clare's gaze automatically went to the small step stool shaped like a cat that her mother had given Shara when she was three. That's where her backpack usually landed. There was no backpack there. Had she already left for school without saying anything? She might do that if she was angry and rebelling.
Warning herself to stay calm, Clare wished she let Shara have a phone. But she hadn't wanted the extra expense. Besides, she'd seen a phone as a privilege Shara had to earn and she hadn't yet.
Going to the closet, immediately Clare saw Shara's newest pair of sneakers were missing. She was probably wearing those. But her cowboy boots were gone, too.
A tremble of fear crawling up her spine, Clare went through Shara's clothes. She knew them by heart. She was in this closet more than her daughter was, cleaning it out, hanging up laundry, looking for anything that wasn't appropriate. She'd become the fashion police lately.
Her breath caught when she realized a pair of jeans were missing, the ones with the embroidered pockets. So were the ones Clare knew had holes in them. A pair of khakis she'd bought a few weeks ago along with a red blouse were missing, too. Over-the-top scared now, Clare went to the drawer where Shara kept sports clothes. A pair of sweats and a few T-shirts were gone.
Gone.
Gone...just like Lynnie.
No. This was not happening again. Wherever Shara was, Clare suspected she'd gone of her own free will. There was one place to start, the Hansen household. But after she dialed the number and paced, no one picked up. She didn't have a cell number.
School. If she waited forty-five minutes, she could check and see if Shara was in homeroom. Maybe she just wanted to give her mom a scare. But then why were clothes missing?
Should she wait the forty-five minutes or call someone? But who would she call? She remembered Joe saying she could call him. Call now? Wait?
She couldn't go to work, not like this. She'd phone her supervisor and wait to call the school.
Forty-five minutes later, Clare discovered Shara had been marked absent from her homeroom. She dialed Joe's number. He sounded wide awake when he answered and she suspected he was an early riser. She said, "It's Clare. Shara's missing. I called the school and she's not there. I don't know what to do."
"I'll be right there."
And he was, but she didn't feel any less terrified. She didn't feel any more reassured. He was dressed in a casual shirt and jeans and wore a worried expression. "What's missing from her room?"
Clare told him, again listing each item.
He said, "Let's see what else is gone. We might be able to tell how long she planned to be away."
How long she planned to be away? Clare hadn't even guessed this might be a permanent decision on Shara's part. Oh Lord, what had she done?
"I went too far last night. I told her I'd take her computer if she didn't shape up."
He clasped Clare's elbow. "Slow down. She's a teenager. You have no idea what she was thinking. If she took all the clothes you said, she had to put them in something. Does she have a duffel?"
"No, just her backpack. Unless…" Clare quickly rushed through the kitchen to the laundry room and the storage closet there. She pulled it open. "My travel bag is missing."
"I don't think she took that to school," Joe muttered.
"Should I call the police?" She remembered how soon they'd descended on the household when they'd called about Lynnie.
"She's sixteen. My guess is they'll consider her a runaway. I know you've been through this before," he said with some compassion, "And so have your parents. I really think you should call one of them and get their advice."
She didn't want to, oh, how she didn't want to. But she had to put aside her own sense of independence. She had to put aside the relationship she didn't have with her parents. This was all about Shara and she had to do what was best for her.
Clare called her dad.
/>
****
When her father walked in, all over again Clare felt as if she was a little girl who had done something wrong. At her age, she knew better. She knew she wasn't responsible for Lynnie's disappearance. But she was responsible for being the daughter who was left, the daughter who reminded her mom and dad that they'd lost their youngest, the daughter who could never make up for that.
Trying to keep some semblance of normalcy, she introduced Joe. Her dad had never met him, though her mom had one day when Joe was trimming the bushes in his yard and her mom had stopped over for a picnic supper. But her dad didn't seem to care about social niceties. He nodded to Joe, looked him over with a father's eye and an expression that wondered if the two of them were involved. But he didn't ask. Rather, he shot questions at her...just like a lawyer. "Is there any sign of forced entry? Did she crawl out the window or go out the front door? Are you sure you didn't hear anything? What time frame are we dealing with? What was the time you saw her last night? You didn't check on her before you called for her this morning? Tell me exactly what's missing."
"I don't know how she left. I checked on her last night around ten. This morning I called her for breakfast and when she didn't come—" Clare's voice cracked.
Her father canvassed Shara's room as if he were searching for that one important clue...as if Clare hadn't done that already.
"And you really have no idea where she went?"
"Her friends are in school. I can't talk to them until they're out. I didn't call you over here to give me the third degree. I thought you'd know the next best thing to do. Maybe I should have called Mom."
"I'm just trying to get to the bottom of what happened here," Max snapped, his voice gruff.
"No, what you're doing is remembering, and you're blaming me for Shara running away just like you blamed me for Lynnie running away."
Max looked stunned...as if she'd slapped him. Maybe she'd intended her words to be a shock. Maybe she'd finally intended to get it all out in the open. Yet she could see from his closed face that that wasn't going to happen. Although her father was a lawyer, he talked to people rather than listening to them. Maybe that wasn't true with his clients and their parents, but it was true with his family.
Her Sister (Search For Love series) Page 5
