The Anderson Brothers Complete Series

by Kristin Coley

  “Yes! Open your eyes!” they shouted and my eyes popped open and then closed again. I couldn’t believe what I’d seen. There was an adorable car with a gigantic bow on it.

  I couldn’t help myself when I started jumping up and down and threw my arms around them. “Thank you so much. This is incredible. I can’t believe it.”

  “It’s used, but a Toyota Corolla. It’s got plenty of miles left on it. This way, you can drive yourself to school,” I heard them saying, as I went to the car. I was overwhelmed. This car meant freedom. I could drive myself and go where I wanted—one less expense to worry about after I graduated.

  I looked back and I could see my parents frowning, as they hovered by the front door. They were going to make this difficult for me. My grandparents headed to their hotel after I thanked them again. As I headed back in, I prepared myself.

  “You will give the car back. While it was a lovely gesture, it’s also a completely inappropriate gift for a sixteen-year-old.” my mother said, as I walked into the living room. She was seated in a wingback chair with my dad standing behind her. I sighed internally … always the united front with my parents. Their way was the only right way, and I was expected to be the perfect preacher’s daughter. I felt that meant I should be drinking and doing drugs, while stripping on Girls Gone Wild videos, but no. I tried to live up to their impossible standards.

  “I think giving the car back would be incredibly rude and ungrateful,” I replied, carefully, trying to appeal to their sense of propriety before this ended in a fight. “They would be hurt if I rejected their gift.”

  “You are too young to be driving around by yourself. That much freedom only leads to sin!” my father thundered, in his best hellfire and damnation voice. I didn’t even blink at his words. I’d heard them so many times. “You don’t even have a driver’s license!” my mother said, nodding, as if that decided it. The truth was, I did have my license. We’d been required to take driver’s ed. over the summer, and Colt had taken me that morning to the DMV to get my license. I’d had to use his car for the driving test, but I was officially a licensed driver. I didn’t feel the need to mention it at that moment though.

  “But if I have my own car, I can drive myself to school and church. I could do more volunteering, which looks great on college applications,” I responded, cajoling now. I wasn’t giving the car back, it was just a matter of whether they gave in, or I continued fighting.

  “I understand your desire for independence, but as your parents, we know what’s best for you. You absolutely cannot keep the car. Our decision is final,” mother told me, her voice hard.

  “The car is in my name. I’m keeping it and driving it. I’ve always been responsible and done what I’m supposed to. You should respect that and trust me,” I replied, my voice equally hard.

  “If you think this defiance is the correct way to get us to respect and trust you, then you are sadly mistaken,” Mother hissed at me. “The car may be in your name, but we will not pay for insurance or gas. So, if you want to sit in the driveway in your new car, be our guest.” Her smile was triumphant, as she finished.

  I smiled back, as I said, “Then I’ll need to get a part time job to cover those expenses.” Her eyes narrowed and my father started shouting. They argued with me for a few hours, but they couldn’t take the car away, or prevent me from getting a job, since I was sixteen now. They did ground me, until school started, but that was only two weeks away, and I used the time to search for a job.

  Which was how I wound up working at a leasing agency for several apartment complexes. The hours were flexible and worked with my school schedule. I also worked all day on Saturday, though I needed more hours. I truly was grateful for my little car. It had become my haven and my freedom.

  “Olivia, do you think I could pick up more hours?” I asked her, as we set out signs for our current leasing promotion.

  “Of course, sweetie. I can probably give you a few more during the week. I know you can’t work on Sundays, but I could give you another eight hours if you did work them,” she said, looking at me curiously.

  “Actually, I can work Sundays now,” I told her, eager to see if I could work tomorrow. My parents refused to let me work on Sundays, saying it was God’s day, and what would it look like to the parishioners if the preacher’s daughter worked on Sunday. They wanted me at the church teaching Sunday school and working in the daycare. I was expected to be at the church for every one of my father’s sermons. “I can also work later on Wednesday too. And whatever hours you can give me this summer.”

  “Wow, that’s excellent. You’re one of my best workers. But I’m surprised that your parents are going to let you work those additional hours. What do you want the extra money for?” she asked me, curious. She knew my parents were strict and them allowing this was surprising.

  “College. I want to build a little nest egg for college. My parents respect the reason, so they’re giving me leeway to do it, so long as my grades don’t suffer,” I said, smiling sweetly. I couldn’t tell Olivia the truth … that I was a knocked up sixteen-year-old. It was embarrassing, and there was no way I’d tell her the whole story.

  The rest of the day was busy, and by the time six rolled around, I was ready to go. Olivia stopped me and said, “If you want, you can work from ten to six tomorrow.”

  “Yes! I’ll be here. Thank you!” I said excitedly, giving her a quick hug.

  “Do you want to go grab a bite?” she asked me, slinging her bag over her shoulder, as we walked to our cars.

  “Actually, I’m stopping by Ford’s place,” I told her, a little awkwardly. I’d introduced Olivia and Ford a few months ago, hoping they’d hit it off. They’d gone on a couple dates, but Olivia said Ford wasn’t really interested. I figured she could tell, so I dropped it.

  She rolled her eyes at me, as she told me, “Girl! Will you quit acting weird when talking about Ford? I’m not upset at all about him. Sometimes you don’t hit it off. Fact of life. You hanging out with Colt?” She gave me a wink and a nudge, and I knew she was thinking I was hooking up with Colt at Ford’s place.

  I took the out she gave me. “Yeah, hanging out,” I stressed to her. “Ford will be there.” I didn’t like lying to her, but it was weird enough for me without trying to come up with an excuse for Olivia.

  I drove through the parking lots till I got to Ford’s complex. He was the one that had told me about the job when he realized I was looking. My parents had finally relented right before school started, and allowed me to go to the back-to-school bash Colt threw with his parent’s permission. In fact, Colt’s parents had convinced my parents to allow me to go. My mother tried hard to climb the social ladder, and Colt’s family was well respected in this town. To my mother, the Anderson family could do no wrong. Sometimes, I thought the only reason my parents allowed me to date Colt was because they wanted to use my relationship with him.

  I was queasy, as I walked up to Ford’s apartment. I figured it must be the pregnancy, because I’d felt better, since I told Ford. I hadn’t realized how much anxiety had been affecting me. I knew I wouldn’t tell Colt. I’d known from the second I saw the double lines, but it wasn’t until a few days later that I thought to talk to Ford. My parents had taken it much worse than I thought, and the feeling of being alone had consumed me. The pregnancy had already distanced me from Colt. I had friends at school, but they were all Colt’s friends. I couldn’t trust any of them to keep my secret.

  I barely knocked on the door before Ford pulled it open. As the smell of Chinese food hit me, my stomach churned, and I shoved past him to get to the bathroom.

  Ford

  Chapter Three

  As soon as I opened the door, Hannah rushed past me into the bathroom. I could hear her retching in the toilet, as I pushed the bathroom door open and grabbed a towel. I wet part of the towel, and laid it on her neck. Her hair was braided, so I pulled it to the side and rubbed her back, as she dry-heaved.

  “Afternoon sickn
ess. You told me that. I’ve got some ginger ale and crackers. Be right back.”

  She didn’t respond, so I went to the kitchen and grabbed the stuff I’d read helps with morning sickness, or afternoon in Hannah’s case. I heard the toilet flush, and she was sitting back against the tub when I returned. I sat down cross-legged on the bathroom floor with her. I handed her the saltines and cracked open a can of ginger ale.

  “I Googled pregnancy after you left. They mentioned nausea a lot. Seemed like this stuff helped the most,” I rambled, as she looked at me. She gave me a soft smile and said, “You Googled it?”

  “Well, yeah. I didn’t know anything. Figured I’d better find out,” I answered.

  “That’s sweet,” she said. I noticed her eyes were damp.

  “You’re not going to cry, are you? I read about that too.”

  That startled a laugh out of her. “No, I’m not going to cry. I think that would make you uncomfortable, and throwing up is enough for one day.” She bit into a cracker and then took a swig of ginger ale. Her face contorted at the taste of the ginger ale, and she barely swallowed it. She immediately handed me the ginger ale and told me, “I think that would make me sick. That stuff is terrible.”

  I sniffed it and took a swig, and immediately knew what she meant. I shuddered at the taste and poured it down the sink.

  “They lied about the ginger ale. How about the crackers?” I said, nodding at the sleeve of crackers in her hand.

  “These help,” she said, with a smile. “In fact, I feel much better. I always do after I throw up.” She started to get up, so I jumped up to help her.

  “Thank you, but I can get up by myself,” she told me, giving me a curious look.

  “I read that pregnancy can screw up your balance and make it difficult to get up on your own,” I replied, hastily.

  She gave a soft laugh and bit her lip. “Ford, I think that’s when I get bigger. Like an actual belly.”

  “So, you’re not dizzy or anything?” I asked, feeling a bit foolish.

  “Nope. But I am starving,” she said, as I heard her stomach growl. “That Chinese food smells amazing. I hope you have a ton. I could eat a horse.”

  I was a little dumbfounded. I could have sworn the smell of Chinese food had made her sick, but now she was starving and it smelled amazing? I thought I needed to Google some more.

  When I got to the kitchen, she’d already dished up a plate that would make a linebacker proud. I raised my eyebrows, but self-preservation kept me from commenting. I made my own plate and joined her at the bar. I’d already discovered there wouldn’t be any conversation, until she was finished eating.

  “Thank you.” I glanced at her, and she was looking at me with a small smile. “I appreciate you getting me food and I’m sorry I christened your toilet.”

  I laughed and told her, “It’s not the first time for the toilet. Colt has hung over it a few times himself.”

  She gave a quick shake of her head and laughed with me. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  I couldn’t hold back my questions any longer. “How far along are you? Have you told your parents? Have you told anybody besides me? Do you really want to keep this from Colt?”

  Hannah gave me a wide-eyed look before she said, “Can we sit on the couch? And I’ll answer all your questions. It might take some time.”

  “Ok, go sit and I’ll clean up,” I said, grabbing the plates to put in the dishwasher.

  “I can help,” Hannah said, closing the Chinese food containers.

  “Nope. You’ve been working all day and need to rest. I read about it,” I said, pointing to the living room with a dirty knife. “Now go sit.”

  She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it. She gave me a little salute and said, “Yes, sir!”

  “That’s more like it,” I told her, and she gave me a quick glare over her shoulder, causing me to laugh.

  When I went in a few minutes later, she was curled up in the armchair with her eyes closed. I grabbed a blanket to throw over her when her eyes opened.

  “I’m awake. I was just resting my eyes.”

  “Maybe you should take it easy with work,” I told her. “I read that women need more rest when they’re pregnant. They say your body is working as hard as someone climbing a mountain.”

  She closed her eyes, shook her head, and smiled. “I can see this becoming extremely irritating, but at the same time incredibly sweet.” She shifted so she was sitting up and said, “I think I’m five weeks. You base it on your last period. And talking about this is only slightly awkward.”

  “Don’t feel weird with me. I’ve had time to think about this, and you need support. I’m here for you. No matter how gross or personal it gets,” I told her firmly. I’d read plenty and there had been pictures.

  “I told my parents. They didn’t take it well. And that’s all I want to say about that.” she told me, with a stern look in her eye. “You’re the only other person I’ve told. And I hope we can keep it from Colt.”

  “Why me? Why not Colt? He’s the father. He has a right to know,” I replied, standing up and running my hands through my hair. A habit I seemed to have developed, since this morning.

  “Tell him and then what? I’m due in January. He’s leaving in a couple weeks for football camp and to get settled at Alabama. So what? He doesn’t go? He misses his first semester, loses his scholarship?” Hannah paused to take a breath, and I could tell she’d been thinking about this.

  “I have another year of high school. Do you really think he’s going to stay and go to Baylor and we’re going to get married and raise a baby?”

  “I don’t know, Hannah, but doesn’t he have the right to make that choice?” I demanded.

  “Yes. In a perfect world he does. But this isn’t perfect. It’s messed up. It’s fucking messed up!” she shouted at me, tears in her eyes. I closed my eyes and cursed myself. This was harder on her than me. I couldn’t blame her for trying to protect my brother. I walked over and pulled her up and gave her a hug. She was stiff at first, and then grabbed me tight, and I felt the dampness where her tears seeped into my shirt. We stood there for a long time before she finally pushed against me. I looked down at her red eyes and snotty nose and smiled. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and gave it to her.

  “You are the only guy I know that carries a handkerchief in his pocket. It’s pretty handy, if old fashioned.” Her smile belied any attempt to offend with her words.

  “What can I say? My grandmother told me that a gentleman always provides a hankie for a lady.”

  “I think some may question if I’m a lady,” Hannah said, with a twisted smile. I touched her cheek, as she glanced away.

  “Never doubt you are a lady. An unplanned pregnancy doesn’t define you.”

  “Maybe not, but it does change everything,” she murmured. We settled down on the couch next to each other. I summoned my courage and asked a question that was reprehensible to me, but still an option. “What about abortion?”

  She replied quickly and adamantly, “No. Absolutely not.” My chest loosened, and I felt a rush of relief. I knew it wasn’t my body or my decision, but I was glad she wasn’t going to destroy my niece or nephew.

  “I know it makes sense to do it and I don’t object to women’s right to choose, but that’s not a choice I’m going to make. This baby exists, despite the precautions we took, and I won’t kill it.” She looked at me searchingly, seeking understanding.

  “I’m glad. It’s your choice, but I’m glad you don’t want an abortion.” I wrapped my arm around her and gave a quick squeeze. “So what do you want to do?”

  “I figure I’ll give the baby up for adoption. I can’t support it on my own. My parents won’t help, and Colt,” she trailed off, with a shake of her head. I understood her in that moment, and I was grateful my brother chose her. She knew that a baby would completely derail my brother’s dreams of playing football, and she was making the decision not to do that. I felt my bro
ther had a right to know, but I also knew that his knowing wouldn’t improve the situation.

  Hannah turned to me and looked at me earnestly. “If he loved me, and I thought we could make it, I would tell him. But he doesn’t, and we wouldn’t. He loves football. It’s his life and his dream, and I’ve never met anyone with the kind of focus he has on his dream. I won’t be the one to take that from him.” I was stunned by her realization that Colt didn’t love her and how calmly she stated it. She understood Colt better than I gave her credit for. Maybe even better than I did. I opened my mouth to say that I wasn’t sure.

  She smiled at me knowingly, “He cares about me. I know that, but he has always chosen football over me. He loves the game. I’m not hurt. I’ve been following along in Colt’s shadow for a long time. I’ve always been happy to be with him. But now I have to make the choice to let him go and be who he’s meant to be. I need to find out who I am now.”