“I’m not mad,” I assured her. “I’m . . . I don’t know what I am.”
Abbie’s cheeks puffed, then she exhaled long and slow. “Yeah, me neither.”
Yeah, me neither.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
Abbie fingered her seat belt. “It’s the same stuff we’ve said all along. I’m a sophomore in high school, I don’t want to be with Lance, and the last thing our house needs is a baby. This way I have the baby March 10 and am back at school by the time spring break is over.” She wiped away a tear. “And life goes back to normal.”
It sounded so simple when Abbie stated it like that. Sure, just squirt the kid out and head back to school. Like we could ever forget that somewhere in the world, a little piece of my sister would be running around, and yet she would be a complete stranger to us all. The thought chilled me, and maybe it did Abbie too, because she shivered.
“I have an appointment tomorrow with a counselor at Christian Family Services. They said I should bring an adult. Would you mind coming?”
I didn’t know if I was exactly what they had in mind when they said an adult, but I said, “Whatever you need.”
After the heavy conversation in the car, I hoped Dad had gone to the office so I wouldn’t have to face him. We hadn’t talked since the day before, and I didn’t know how to act around him. He’d cheated on Mom with her best friend and kept it to himself all these years, but it was hard to be too angry with him when at least he was home. These days, Mom seemed eager to cut and run while the rest of us loafed around the house, waiting for her to decide to come home. I no longer knew who deserved my allegiance—the parent who’d screwed up back then, or the one who did now.
I opened the garage door to find Dad standing in the hallway wearing a tight smile. “Hi, girls, how was your day?”
“Fine,” we said.
The three of us stood there in the tiny space, just watching each other. Dad’s smile grew more strained. “Well. Do you have lots of homework?”
Abbie shrugged. I said, “Some.”
He nodded. “I’m ordering takeout, Abbie. You in the mood for anything special?”
“Whatever.”
“Or I could attempt to cook.”
Abbie didn’t smile back. “I’m gonna go lay down.”
“Okay, honey.” Dad ruffled her auburn hair as she passed, then looked at me. “You have a second to talk?”
I nodded, my mouth dry, and followed him through the kitchen into his office. He pulled the French doors closed behind us.
“I can’t get ahold of your mother,” he said, turning to face me.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the door frame. “This is news?”
“I wanted to give her the weekend to cool off.” Dad ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t even try calling her until today.”
“Maybe she needs a little more time. Maybe it’ll take her more than a weekend to get over what you did.”
When he didn’t reprimand me for my lack of respect, I knew he was really worried. “Her cell phone isn’t working. The recording says it’s been disconnected.”
“She called me from it yesterday.”
Had she possibly already left for Hawaii? She wouldn’t do that, right? She wanted Abbie and me with her. At the very least, she’d have said good-bye.
Dad perched on the edge of his desk and said in a matter-of-fact way, “I need to know what she said to you over coffee.”
I squirmed. I wanted out of there. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to put a family back together”—his voice rose with each word—“and I need to know how to reach your mother.”
I looked away from him, at a grade-school picture of Abbie’s. She had braided pigtails and missing teeth. Why hadn’t Dad updated his pictures? Did he prefer to think of us at that age, as little girls who argued with him only when he insisted we go to bed?
“She said I was an accident,” I whispered. Mom had said a lot of things. Why choose to tell him that one?
Dad’s face paled. “Oh, Skylar, honey. You came along earlier than we planned, but I promise, the moment you were born, neither of us saw you as an accident. When I saw you that first time—”
“It’s okay.” I was so not in the mood to hear him say anything that might make me like him again. “I don’t care. Honestly.” Dad’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “Did she say anything else?”
I shook my head. “Can I go start on my homework?”
I shook my head.
He nodded.
I’d nearly closed the door, nearly escaped, when Dad called, “Skylar?”
I hesitated—could he tell I’d held back information?
“Would you . . .” He fiddled with his tie. Even on days he worked from home, he usually wore ties. “When she calls you again, would you please say whatever you can to get her back home?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
How exhausting, to know before my father that he’d be getting divorced. It’s supposed to be a surprise to the kids. Alexis once described her parents’ divorce as the shock of a lifetime. My parents, however, seemed eager to consult me with every step.
Jogging up the stairs, I murmured, “Please, God, forgive me for lying.” I had no intentions of sweet-talking Mom back home. Why bother? She’d settle in, make fancy dinners for a couple weeks, and then leave again at the next bump in the road. I couldn’t keep suffering the pain of losing her. Well, I could, but Abbie was a different story. She needed Mom.
Abbie poked her head into my room, wearing a sleeveless shirt despite the frigid January temperatures. “Everything okay?”
She must’ve heard Dad ask to speak to me in private. “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “I think Dad just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna take a nap.”
She rolled her eyes. “ “Okay, sleep well.”
When she left, I collapsed onto my bed. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what life had been like in the little house, when we all shared one and a half baths and two teeny bedrooms. How painful to know those days weren’t what I’d thought. If I were Mom, could I forgive Dad for what he’d done? It was hard enough just being his daughter.
My phone rang. Connor.
My phone “Hello?”
“You sound tired.”
“Because I’m lying down.” I propped myself up. “Better?”
“Much. You miss me on the drive home?”
I chuckled. “It’s a miracle I survived the two-minute drive.”
“I’m sensing sarcasm,” Connor said. “So Jodi tells me you’re coming tomorrow night.”
“To what?”
“Youth group.”
“Oh, right.” I glanced at the closed bathroom door. “I can’t go.”
Connor sighed. “Of course not.”
“Do I really deserve that?” I asked. So, yeah, in the past I’d flaked on youth group, but this time I had a reason. A good one.
“It depends on why you can’t come.”
“It depends on “I just can’t.”
Maybe Abbie wouldn’t mind me telling Connor about her adoption plans, but I didn’t want to take the chance. Only a couple months ago, she’d flown into a violent rage when she discovered I’d told Connor about her pregnancy. Though, for the record, I hadn’t intended to tell Connor about the baby. He’d overheard me asking Heather to pray for our family. But it had been a moot point to Abbie, who didn’t care how word had gotten out, just that it had. Now, for the first time, Abbie and I were getting along. I didn’t want to risk spoiling the peace, even if it meant making Connor mad.
“I want a real reason.”
“Well, I can’t give you one,” I said in a cross voice. “You’re just going to have to trust me that I can’t go.”
“You know, it’d be really good for Jodi to see you there. Eli won’t come with her.”
“Maybe he will. He invited her to church.”
“I gu
ess he didn’t, his mom did. Apparently, she liked how he got involved in church again when he started dating you. She thought if Jodi came, he might.”
“Jodi told you this?”
“Eli did. After you left on Sunday.”
“Ah.”
“So, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Will you come?”
“I told you—I can’t.”
“Fine,” Connor huffed. “Well, you’re not gonna like this, but I told Jodi I’d pick her up.”
My heart hammered. “Why? She’s got a car.”
“I think she’s kinda nervous about showing up by herself. I didn’t think you’d care because I assumed I’d be taking you as well.”
“If I could go, I would. I can’t.” I took a deep breath. “Will you please do me a favor?”
“You want me to back out of picking her up, don’t you?”
Of course I did, but now that he’d guessed it, I felt stupid saying so. I forced myself to take a deep breath. I needed to get my jealousy under control. It had been running rampant since Connor and I had gotten together. I couldn’t live like this any longer. Time for rational thinking.
So, worst-case scenario—Jodi truly was after Connor. That didn’t mean he was forced to like her back. That all his feelings for me vanished just because she batted her long lashes. I should be totally fine with him taking her to youth group. And I would be.
“Just be careful with her,” I said. “She’s most lethal when she’s being nice.”
10
Abbie spoke so quietly, I had to ask her to repeat herself.
“I said, can you just wait out here?” She glanced at me, appearing nervous.
“You don’t want me in there?”
“You don’t want me in She shook her head.
“But . . .” Why didn’t she want me in there? “Don’t you think you’ll want another pair of ears? I mean, they’re going to be throwing a lot of information at you.”
Abbie shook her head again, her gaze already down the hallway where we expected Cindy Sheldon, the pregnancy counselor, to appear at any moment.
“Well . . . okay.” I pulled out Wuthering Heights, as if I’d be able to focus.
“Abbie Hoyt?”
A tall woman had appeared in the hall. Her gaze bounced between Abbie and me, the only two people in the waiting room.
“I’m Abbie,” my sister said without budging.
If Abbie’s age surprised her, the woman did a good job hiding it. But of course Abbie had probably already shared her situation.
The woman stuck out her hand, her clear eyes crinkling with a smile. With her crop of dark hair and fair skin, she looked like a modern-day Snow White. “Hi, Abbie, I’m Cindy.” She nodded at me. “Is this a friend of yours?”
A reaction we’d grown used to. Abbie and I shared two things—our last name and a bathroom. She favored our father, fair and auburn, while I carried on Mom’s Hawaiian heritage.
“This is my sister, Skylar.”
Cindy offered her hand to me as well. “A pleasure to meet you.” She turned her smile back to Abbie. “Well, if you girls would follow me, we’ll get started.”
“Skylar’s going to wait out here,” Abbie said, her tone leaving no room for disagreement.
A flicker of surprise crossed Cindy’s face, but she nodded. “Just make yourself comfortable.”
I took this to mean their meeting would take awhile. I settled into my seat in the spacious waiting room, opened Wuthering Heights, and hoped to get too absorbed in the world of Catherine and Heathcliff to think about what was happening down that hall.
Sadly, no luck.
The first time I glanced at my cell phone, positive at least thirty minutes had lapsed, only five had. I groaned and considered putting away my book. I’d barely read a page, though I’d been looking at it since Cindy and Abbie disappeared.
The next time I checked, only two more minutes had passed.
I gave up on being a model English student and closed my book. Instead, I preoccupied myself by scrolling through my overgrown contact list. Had I ever cleaned this thing out? Some people I hadn’t talked to in over a year.
When I reached the Rs, I saw his name—Aaron Robinson.
My heart raced with the memory.
He’d pulled my cell from my pocket. “Here,” he’d said, punching in his number. “For when you get bored with those high school boys.” Handing it back to me, he had winked one of his dark eyes.
I’d always been a sucker for dark eyes.
My finger hesitated on the erase button. I longed to call him, to chew him out for the pain he’d caused me. Or nearly caused me. Whatever.
Connor once asked if I’d ever considered that my life might be worse if Aaron hadn’t acted like such a scumbag. Would I have ever cleaned up my act and recognized God if not for the wake-up call of Jodi’s party?
Really, I should call and thank him.
I smirked at the idea, imagining how it would stun Aaron. Was that why God told us to turn the other cheek? To give our cloak as well as our tunic? Or, to a modern girl like me, my cashmere coat as well as the gorgeous new Armani sweater I’d just bought?
I blinked at my cell phone’s screen: dialing Aaron Robinson, it informed me. I’d done it. I’d hit the call button.
“Hello?” His voice—quiet and distant because I held the phone in my lap—sent a shiver through me. I’d recognize it anywhere.
“Hello?” he said again. “Who is this?”
I could almost feel his mouth close to my ear, his unshaven chin tickling my cheek. “Let’s get out of here,” he’d whispered, and I’d wanted to say no, but my mouth felt sticky, like I’d just eaten a spoonful of peanut butter.
“Skylar?” Cindy said, jolting me into the present.
What a relief to find myself not at a raging house party but in the sparsely decorated waiting room of Christian Family Services. I glanced at my cell phone and found the call disconnected. Probably by Aaron, because my finger lingered on the connect button.
Realizing Cindy still watched me, I forced out words. “Sorry, I was just . . .” Just what? “Just . . . thinking.”
She gave me a kind smile. “From what your sister’s told me, there’s a lot to think about these days. Abbie’s decided she’d like you to join us.” She gestured to my phone. “Would you mind putting it on vibrate? I’d hate for it to disturb us.”
“I’ll turn it off,” I said, fumbling with it as I stood to follow Cindy.
We walked through several short, neutrally painted hallways until finally reaching her office. Though a warm space, it lacked any sort of personal touch. No pictures of her family, no framed finger paintings. Maybe she stashed them under her desk when girls like my sister came in.
Cindy gestured to a corner of the room. Abbie sat on a sofa, her legs crossed at the ankles, which she’d never done until the last couple weeks. She’d gotten too big to comfortably cross at the knees.
Cindy settled into an armchair, and I took a place beside Abbie. A silver bowl of Jolly Ranchers sat on the coffee table. Abbie offered it to me without matching my eye line.
“Abbie tells me you’re a senior,” Cindy said, pulling a notebook onto her lap.
I unwrapped a green apple candy. “Yeah.”
I unwrapped a green apple candy.
“Do you have plans for college?”
“I’m going to Johnson County.”
“I wish they’d make it a four-year college. My daughter went there and loved it. Do you know yet what you want to study?” She glanced at my lace-up boots and patterned skirt. “Maybe design and textiles?”
I smiled politely. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Plenty of time to decide. You’re very smart to go to community college while you figure it out.”
I didn’t answer, just kept my smile pasted on. Was I smart or just too lazy to put in the effort of applying to more schools? I didn’t know anymore.
Withou
t a graceful segue, Cindy jumped into the reason for the meeting. “Well, Skylar, let me catch you up on what Abbie and I have been discussing. I’ve explained to Abbie how serious a decision this is. She already knows this, of course, but it’s important, especially with how soon her due date is, to move forward from this meeting feeling good about either the decision to put the baby up for adoption or the decision to parent.”
Cindy went on to explain how the adoption would work, that Abbie would look through files of families and pick one, but nothing would be final until after the birth of the baby.
I wanted to look at Abbie during this but didn’t dare. In my peripheral, it seemed as though her gaze stayed locked on Cindy.
“Any questions so far?” Cindy’s gaze flickered between us.
I shook my head.
“Do you get many fifteen-year-olds in here?” Abbie asked, her voice a solid rock.
Cindy offered a kind, closed-mouth smile. “We get women of all ages.”
Abbie nodded, apparently satisfied. “And these families who adopt . . . how do you find them?”
“They come to us, actually. They apply, and we do a very thorough evaluation to be sure we can confidently place a child with them.”
“Are they mostly people who can’t have kids?”
“It varies. Some can’t. Some have kids but can’t naturally have any more. Others feel called to adopt.”
“Called.” Abbie shifted in her seat and reached for another Jolly Rancher. “Do the other girls—the mothers—do they usually feel called to give away their baby?”
Cindy shrugged. “Some do. Others simply feel it’s the best option.” She looked at my sister with such kindness, I wanted to hug her. “It’s never an easy decision, though.”
Abbie didn’t acknowledge this, just popped the candy in her mouth.
“Any other questions?”
Abbie shook her head. “Not right now.”
“Then I have a few.” Cindy positioned her notepad on the arm of her chair. “You said your parents know about the baby. Is there a reason they aren’t here?”
“I . . .” Abbie glanced at me. “I’ve only told Skylar. About adoption.”
“Why’s that?”
Out with the In Crowd Page 7
