Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Why the hell is she still sitting in the clubhouse?” Heather said, glaring at Otto. “You should’ve called me.”
“We had some questions,” Otto’s grandpa said, coming toward us. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”
“Grandbaby,” Heather said, pointing at my belly. “Trumps—” She waved her hand in the air. “Whatever the hell you guys are doing.”
“Wrong,” he snapped.
Heather just raised her eyebrows. “Did she answer your questions?”
“She did.”
“Then she’s done here.”
“We’ll say when she’s done.”
My head swung back and forth like I was watching a tennis match, but Otto just stood there looking bored.
“You know, Asa—” Heather said, her entire tone changing.
He lifted a hand to stop her. “Not sure she’s safe to go anywhere else,” he said, cutting her off. “We were havin’ that discussion when you interrupted.”
“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” I asked, staring at the older man.
“Were you not listenin’ to a word we said?” Otto asked me in disbelief.
“I heard everything you said.” Not that I believed all of it, but I’d heard them.
“I’m takin’ her back to Tommy’s room,” Heather said, her tone brooking no argument. “When you’re finished with whatever it is you’re discussing, let us know.” She turned to me. “Come on, honey.”
I followed her across the room and through the archway without argument, glancing at Otto as we passed him. He gave me a small nod and I was a little irritated with myself when I realized I’d been looking for his permission to leave.
“Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a day,” his mom said over her shoulder. She raised her voice. “You coming, ma?”
“I’ll be right there,” the older woman called back.
“That’s Otto’s grandma, Callie,” Heather told me. “I figured I might need reinforcements with this group.”
I didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure what to say. She confidently led me to a room down the hall and sauntered through the door. The entire clubhouse had a bit of a worn-down look to it, but the bedroom she’d led me into was bright and cheerful—loud even. There were tapestries on the walls and a bright quilt on the bed and everything was very clean but clearly lived in.
“Do you live here?” I asked in surprise, looking around the room.
“Hell no,” she said with a laugh. “Go ahead and sit on the bed. I’ve been meaning to put a nice recliner in here but I keep putting it off.”
I sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed while she leaned against a dresser along the opposite wall.
“This is better, huh?” she said with a smile. “Quieter at least. Don’t worry about the men. They’re all bark.”
I looked at her doubtfully.
“They bite, but they wouldn’t bite you,” she clarified. “I mean, look at you. I doubt you’ve even stolen a candy bar from the grocery store.”
My smile felt more like a grimace.
“So, you and my son, huh?” she said, her mouth twitching. “I wouldn’t have guessed it.”
I swallowed hard and looked down at my faded dress flaring out from underneath my coat. It had actually started out as a church dress and was a really pretty aquamarine color, but I’d worn it so often working outside that it barely resembled the dress I’d been so excited about the year before. I smoothed it down anyway.
“He doesn’t exactly seem your type,” she clarified, surprising me.
“I think he’s probably everyone’s type,” I replied ruefully, making her laugh. My cheeks burned.
“Something about those Hawthorne men, am I right?” she asked, grinning at me. “Even the grumpy ones could charm the pants off a choir girl.”
“Well, they want us to stay put for a bit,” Otto’s grandma announced, coming through the door. “Until they figure out what’s what.”
She turned to me and smiled and I was startled by the resemblance to her grandson. She was clearly Tommy’s mom even though Heather had called her Ma. Same smile.
“Hello, honey,” she said, walking toward me. “I’m Callie. You can just call me Gram, if you’d like. Everyone does.”
“Hi, I’m Esther,” I replied, getting to my feet. Greeting her from the bed seemed disrespectful somehow.
“Beautiful name,” she murmured, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she reached for my hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
“Don’t you worry, they’ll get everything straightened out.” She squeezed my hands. “How far along are you?”
“Seventeen weeks,” I replied, remembering what the doctor had said. Was it only yesterday that I’d been there? So many things had happened in the last twenty-four hours that it seemed like weeks ago.
“Lots of time to get things ready, then,” she said encouragingly. She let go of my hands and sat down on the bed, patting the place beside her. “Do you know what you’re having?”
I shook my head as I lowered myself back down.
It felt like I was in the twilight zone. We’d watched a couple episodes in my creative writing class in school and I’d always thought the storylines were really farfetched, but I was beginning to rethink my position. I’d found a cache of weapons under my floorboards, been invaded by a motorcycle club, taken from my home and interrogated, told that my dad had planned to blow me up if I called him for help, and now a sweet old lady was asking me excitedly about the baby my family had sent me away to hide.