Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,119

let Dad out tomorrow, on bail …” She stopped and said slowly, “It’s going to be so creepy to be here.”

Harlan put his arm around her and squeezed, and she said, “But I can’t … how do I leave? It’s too hard. Every time I try to think what to do … it’s too … it’s too hard.”

She was crying a little, finally, and Harlan’s arm tightened. Jennifer passed over a box of Kleenex, glad she’d thought to buy it, and Annabelle cried for just a minute against Harlan’s chest, then blew her nose and said, “I know this isn’t what’s important. Not with Mom …” Her chin trembled. “But I keep thinking about it, and I don’t know what to do.”

Jennifer said, “You know what? I think school is going to turn out to be the easy part of this. Of course you can’t enroll in a new school for two months of your junior year.”

“She can’t?” Harlan asked.

“No,” Jennifer said. “She’s right. It’s not third grade. Her coursework will be more specific than that. But I’m guessing that you can go see the counselor tomorrow and work out a plan where she finishes remotely. She can take the books and get the homework, and take the tests, too. You can take the AP tests anywhere,” she told Dyma. “They’re standardized, and you’re almost there anyway. It would probably be a good idea to have an adult tutoring you, though. Proctoring your exams, all that.”

Harlan said, “Uh … college was a long time ago. Chemistry? Probably not.”

“Too bad you don’t have any money to hire somebody,” she said sweetly. “Like … a teacher?”

He grinned. “Well, yeah. I could do that. What do you think, Bug? Finish remotely, with a tutor? And then senior year in Portland?”

“Can I do that?” she asked. “Do you think they’d let me?”

“I’m sure they would,” Jennifer said, making it firm. “Stuff happens, and schools want kids to succeed. Plus, of course, they only get funding for you if you’re enrolled, and you’d still be enrolled.”

“OK,” Harlan said. “There you go.”

“What about softball, though?” Annabelle asked.

“You know,” Jennifer said, “I think you might have to let softball go for this season. It’s too much to ask Harlan to live here with you, and it’s too much to ask you to live here. Don’t you think? He wants to keep you safe, but how safe are either of you going to feel here?”

Harlan said, “I can keep her safe. And don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t drinking his beer, was just spinning the bottle around and around, and she wondered how it would feel to question your motives every time you took a drink, to question your stability every time you lost your temper. How much it would make you want to keep your distance, so your emotions never rose into the danger zone.

“I know,” she said. “But there’s such a thing as feeling …” She groped for the word. “Safe inside. Secure, I guess. And you know … maybe there’s another sport you can do in Portland. I looked up athletic scholarships once for Dyma. Not that she cared, but it was back in the days when I thought I could influence her. Long gone. How about rowing?”

Annabelle looked blank, and Harlan said, “Not a lot of rowing in Bismarck.”

“Rowing’s a big one for girls’ scholarships, though,” Jennifer said. “And Portland has a river, right? I’ll bet there’s a team. It’s not like lacrosse or soccer, where you’d have to play for years to be good. You’re just rowing a boat.”

Annabelle said, “That could be cool, I guess.”

Jennifer laughed. “I wish somebody’d told Dyma that. She thought it was the lamest idea she’d ever heard. ‘Mother. Like I’m going to go do sports. I’m going to get an academic scholarship.’ What’s so galling is that she actually did it.” She sighed. “Thanks for entertaining the idea, anyway. That was novel. You so rarely get to be right as a mom.”

37

Stay With Me

Jennifer sat up in the darkness, confused about where she was. The door wasn’t in the right place, and she couldn’t remember where the bathroom was.

Oh. She was in Bismarck. Murder. Jail. Heartbreak.

She heard the noise and realized it was what had woken her. A muffled groan.

Annabelle. She threw the covers back, swung her legs to the floor, shivered in the chill, and wished for a bathrobe. She’d bought a nightgown today, but she was only going to be here one more night,