Page 5 of Hide My Heart
“Reckon you should drive up the road and ask. There’s only one church in this town.”
“Nah, I’d rather ask the competition. Heard there’s a feud between your families.”
I settle back into bartender mode, telling only enough to keep the guy talking, especially since I can’t see his eyes.
“Not much going on these days. I run the tavern and places of ill repute, and James McKay and his boys run the church.”
“Heard there’s a daughter.”
The hairs rise on the back of my neck. No one’s heard from Amber, and the rumors get more gruesome as time goes by.
“You know her?” I go for casual.
“Nah.” He crunches on a pretzel. “Heard talk, that’s all. What have you heard?”
“Nothing. She up and left town. Don’t blame her. This isn’t exactly New York or Los Angeles. Not much happening here.”
“Nope, guess not.” He pulls out a few bills from his pocket and slaps them on the table. “Guess I’ll mosey on over to the church. Good day.”
I wonder what kind of trouble Amber’s got into to have a secret agent kind of guy looking for her.
FOUR
Amber
The next December.
The tired bus rolls toa stop with a puff of its brakes. Divine, Idaho. Population 818, plus me and Beck equals 820. My eyes shift back and forth to the single pool of light at the end of the stop. No one is waiting. Not that I should worry. This is the last place anyone would expect me to return to. Not when I couldn’t wait to hitchhike out on my eighteenth birthday.
My son, Beck, sleeps comfortably, nestled on my chest. He’s three months old and still small enough for the sling carrier. I shove the letter from my grandmother into my pocket and disembark from the bus, dragging my giant backpack. No one else is getting off here.
“Need any help?” the driver asks with a yawn.
“Nope, got it. Thanks.” I keep my face down and averted from him. Thankfully, Beck is quiet, although his eyeballs roll under his eyelids, and his mouth makes a sucking motion. Almost time for a feeding.
The sidewalk is covered with packed snow, and the temperature is low enough to numb my face. I wave off the lone cab and pull the fur-lined hood on my jacket over my face. There’s only one person I need to find, and I pray to God he’s in town. It would have been nice to take a cab, but I can’t afford to have the driver, Mr. Carson, know I’m here with a baby. He’s a deacon at my dad’s church, and his wife’s a big gossip and is too sanctimonious for her long, flowing skirt.
The air has a pine forest scent, and it’s cold, bitterly so—something I’m not used to after hanging out in California the past year. The main street of Divine is just as I remember. Christmas lights dot the homes, and the few businesses are outfitted with frosted windows, wreathes, and garlands.
Only this holiday is not going to be happy. Through a miracle of coincidences, my grandmother tracked me down in Berkeley, California. I was living at a homeless women’s shelter and working part time at a coffee shop when my cousin Stacy walked in.
She was horrified to find me in such a situation, homeless with a baby, but I swore her to secrecy. I mean, she understood, of course, she did. Her parents are almost as strict as mine, although they let her go to conventional school and she ended up at Berkeley.
Sadly, she told me our grandmother has six months to live. Grandma was the one who watched me growing up while my mother was busy leading women’s prayer groups and organizing church activities. Grandma bought me cotton candy, took me on the giant Ferris wheel at the county fair, and let me wear pants while visiting her farm. Since I was the only girl in a family of boys, Grandma took me under her wing and taught me how to cook, preserve, quilt, and play cards. It was our secret, especially the sinful cards.
Beck squirms as I tug the blanket over his face. He’s getting hungry, but I can’t show up at my parents’ house with him. Even if I could bear the shame, I’d never let the townsfolk have reason to jeer at my parents. Besides, Grandma’s disappointment would crush me way more than being strapped to a pew and forced to endure nonstop preaching from my father and brothers combined.
The problem. How to hide Beck? On the way home, I concocted a million stories. He’s my foster son. Scratch. Why would a drifter like me have a foster son? I found him abandoned at a bus stop. Scratch. Not when I’m breastfeeding him. He’s a friend’s son. If only that were true.
My boss back in California suggested putting Beck in foster care while I visited my family. But there’s no way I would leave him with a stranger. He’s all I have—me and him against the world.
Except I do have one friend in town. One friend who’d do anything for me. One friend who saw me as a person with hopes, fears, and dreams. One friend who I think about all the time. Would he help me and go along with my plan?
My steps take me toward the single motel in town, the Redbird, owned by the Rileys. It’s too cold to spend the night outdoors. Even the short walk has me chilled to the bone.
I step into the lobby and glance at the night clerk. It’s a young lady I’ve never met before. My luck’s holding up. I ask for a room for the night and struggle, trying to get my backpack off my shoulders when Beck wakes. Big, round eyes peer at me, trusting me, and my heart melts every time he shines those baby blues at me.
His little mouth roots around for the breast while his face turns red with expectation.
