Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 5
As we got in the car, I thought of Justin. After something like this, I normally would have planned to call him, because he was my sounding board, my confidant—but if he was the reason why Sarah was acting out, that was the last thing I needed to do.
After Sarah climbed in the passenger side, she hung her head as if scrutinizing her jeans. When I looked at her, I remembered seeing my child for the very first time, holding her in my arms, wondering how I could ever be a mother.
But I’d done it.
For eleven years, I’d been a parent—not a perfect one, but I’d done my best. I loved my children, wanted the best for them, wanted a better life for all of us.
Somewhere along the way, though, I’d failed.
Gripping the keys like a lifeline, I let out a heavy breath. “I love you, baby girl.”
I wondered, though, if that love for her would be enough.
Chapter Two
“Kathy, I’m really sorry, but can you cover the rest of my shift?” My voice sounded hollow in my ears as I spoke into the phone. After Sarah and I had gotten home, my daughter had shuffled back to her room even while I was talking to her, as if she couldn’t hear a word I was saying. But I had to take care of work first.
“Okay,” Kathy said. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m really not sure. I’ll update you tomorrow. Thanks for asking.” After hanging up, I glanced at the time. I still had about an hour before I’d have to pick up Devon from the elementary school, so I then called Noreen, my neighbor across the street. “I just wanted to let you know the kids won’t be there this afternoon.”
“Sounds good, Randi.”
“Can we, um…talk sometime soon?”
“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”
“I can’t really talk about it right now.” Sarah’s door was closed, but that didn’t mean shit. It wasn’t like I was whispering.
As much as I hated broaching the subject with the woman, Noreen agreed. Like it or not, I needed to find out if she’d noticed any changes in Sarah that maybe I’d missed.
But now it was time for a talk—the problem was I didn’t know what to say to Sarah or what to ask. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of my purse and stepped onto the tiny porch at the back of my house and lit a cigarette. What could I say to my child to get through to her? How could I get her to understand that what she’d done today had crossed a line? Hell, I was even worried that she might be charged with arson.
In my head, I could see the cold, not-giving-a-shit expression Sarah had been wearing for the past few months and doubted anything I could say would make an impression.
How had Mr. Cooper figured out Sarah was the one who set the fire? Maybe this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding.
I took a deep drag of the cigarette, feeling the calm it brought to my nerves, hoping when I talked to Sarah, I’d discover this whole thing was a mistake.
But that was a big lie I was telling myself—because even if Sarah hadn’t started the fire, something was going on with her. And Mr. Cooper was right. I needed to get Sarah into counseling. Nothing I’d been doing had made a damn bit of difference.
Again, the idea that Justin might be the problem gnawed at me. He and I had started seeing each other about a year earlier—and Sarah’s behavior problems had started sometime after that. Exactly when, I wasn’t sure. Justin liked my kids and my kids seemed to like him. And, while I loved that man’s company, I had no plans to marry or even move in with him. Fortunately, he understood my kids always came first.
Until now, I’d sworn my kids and Justin had all but loved each other—but something was wrong and I had to wonder if Justin had anything to do with it.
If he did…I’d have to kick him to the curb.
First, though, I needed answers from Sarah, whether she liked it or not.
After letting out a long stream of smoke, I crushed the butt in the small glass ashtray sitting on the wrought iron table by the back door and grabbed the doorknob. Before I’d have a chance to second guess myself, I walked through the house and down the hall toward Sarah’s closed bedroom door. That it was closed said more than words.
I rapped on it, avoiding the kitten poster Sarah had tacked on it at Christmas three or four years ago. It had been a present from her dad, and Sarah had loved it—but I doubted she’d taken any joy in it, much less even looked at it, over the past year. Sarah didn’t answer my knock and my eyes drifted from the kitten’s eyes to the doorknob, and I decided right then and there no more closed doors in this house.
I knocked one last time. Still no answer. “Sarah?” Finally, I turned the knob and opened the door. My daughter sat quietly on the edge of her bed looking toward the floor, a pile of bed covers hunched up around her. She didn’t acknowledge my presence, much less act like she’d even noticed the door was now open. Drawing in another breath to fight back tears I hadn’t known were there, I stepped into the room.
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, not saying anything at first. Lowering my head, I tried to look at Sarah’s face underneath the hair covering it. I used my fingers to pull some locks back before nudging her chin so I could look in her eyes. But she kept looking down even while facing me straight on. Whether she chose to look at me or not, I decided