Page 37 of Hide My Heart
“I was the one who made you lie,” Amber says. “I shouldn’t have asked you to help.”
She slumps down onto a chair and puts her face in her hands. She’s no longer holding Beck, so I assume he’s asleep on the bed.
“Hey, don’t feel too bad,” I say. “I’m your friend. You knew you could trust me.”
“But I’ve done everything wrong. Everything.”
“We all make mistakes.” I fix a breakfast plate for her and pour her a glass of orange juice.
She’s hungry, so she scarfs down the grub, and so do I. We don’t talk while we’re eating. I don’t know about her, but this scene feels so good and right.
Amber and I sitting in a kitchen together, eating breakfast. It reminds me of when we used to sneak off at the county fair. We’d load ourselves up with cotton candy, popcorn, hot dogs, and ice cream. Then we’d hide in a barn and sit in the hay, munching and talking about our dreams, using our imaginations to make our stories more dramatic and heroic.
“You’re so good to me, Nate,” she says after putting down her fork. “I don’t know how I can repay you, especially since I put a wedge between you and your mother.”
“My mother will understand once I tell her the truth.”
She reaches for me and I take her hand, holding it tight to let her know I’m with her a hundred percent.
“What if I have to go to jail?” She frowns, her brows drawing together. “Will your mother still take care of Beck if she knows he’s not yours?”
I twist my lips and look up at the ceiling, as if it contains the answers. “I don’t know. Maybe. She wants to brag about having a grandson. She might want to keep pretending.”
“How about you?”
I shrug. “Beck’s a cool baby. Why did you name him Beck Nathan Riley?”
Her mouth flies open as her jaw drops. “How do you know?”
“Found his birth certificate in your things, and a picture of you and Hunter before you got pregnant, or at least I assume that guy was Hunter.” I let go of her hand to get her backpack. “You didn’t fill in the father’s name.”
She digs through her pack and finds the birth certificate. Blinking, she stares at it, as if she’s never seen it before, then her face pinks, blushing.
“I guess I wished he was your son. You would be the best kind of father for him. I wasn’t really thinking I would come back to Divine. You’re not upset, are you?”
“I don’t know. I should be, if you’re planning on hitting me up for child support. You hear about women doing that.” I keep my gaze on the table and the plates we just cleaned. “But part of me is proud you named your son after me.”
I take a peek at her and our eyes meet. There’s something that holds my gaze to hers—a wishful thinking or an unstated yearning. How often have I seen those large, brown eyes in my daydreams, where I was the man she looked up to, the one who found her after she ran away, and the hero who protected her against all the sounds that go bump in the night.
“I wish I hadn’t run away from Divine,” Amber says, still holding my gaze. “I wish our families didn’t hate each other.”
“It’s not personal,” I explain. “But a difference in philosophy. Saints versus sinners. What would you have done if you didn’t run away?”
“Nothing, I guess. Be the church secretary for my dad and play the piano. It would have been a boring life.” She presses her lips together. “What about you? How come you aren’t living up this way and flying those seaplanes and doing the hunting and fishing guide gig you always wanted?”
“I don’t know.” I nod sheepishly. “My life’s been on a holding pattern. It’s just me and my mom. We have the Redbird and Bluebird between us. And when Beau died…”
“I’m so sorry.” She reaches for my hand again and I let her hold it. “I know you looked up to him.”
“He was the best big brother.” I blink, remembering how he used to punch me and hug me at the same time. “I wanted to join the Air Force, but after he died, Mom didn’t want me to go.”
“You could still leave home without going to the military,” she encourages. “I learned so much from my new friends and being out on my own.”
“What are you going to do with Beck after Christmas?” I wonder aloud. “Maybe if my Mom had him, she wouldn’t miss me much when I leave home.”
“Oh, I’m going back to Berkeley.” She claps a hand over her mouth. “What a mess. I’m sorry.”
She gets up from the kitchen table and walks to the window overlooking the valley below.
