Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,78

that would make it worse.

“Nothing,” she said. “Not like you’re thinking. He just … he threw some things, I think, after he got home. Something was breaking out there, anyway. I think he might have bet on the game, but I’m not sure. If he did, he lost. It was an upset, if you didn’t watch, because the Patriots didn’t have any pass rush at all, and their play calling was kind of bizarre, but you know how he always thinks the Patriots can’t lose. Anyway, I stayed in my room. It’s quiet now, though. I think he fell asleep. But I thought it would be better to come out here to call.”

“Right.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to get his breathing under control. “Sorry I left you.” He dragged a hand through his still-wet hair. “What can I do?”

“I just wondered … maybe I could live with Alison until September, until I’m eighteen, and then I could come out and be with you. What do you think? I’d miss the rest of the softball season, but maybe … maybe I could wait and go after the playoffs, in April. I could tell him I’ll play next year in Portland. Maybe that wouldn’t make him so mad.”

“That’s a thought,” he said. “Alison, I mean, because of course you can come stay with me afterwards. Why don’t you call her? I’ll give you the number.” Her next-older sister, who lived in Minneapolis now.

“Can you call?” she asked. “Please? It’s just … I’m cold.” And, he thought, scared to hear another “no.”

“I’ll call,” he promised. “I’ll text you what she says. Go back inside.”

“Harlan?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t Mom ever come back? Do you think it was because of me?” He couldn’t tell whether what he was hearing was the cold, or whether she was crying.

“What? No. How could it be because of you?”

“The rest of you were teenagers, though. And you were in college already, but then I came along. I was only in kindergarten, and maybe she thought … maybe she thought she was almost done, but then I showed up, and that made it too hard. I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t come back, you know?” Now, he could tell for sure what it was. She was crying, just a little. The same way Jennifer did it, like she couldn’t allow herself to let go, because she didn’t have anywhere safe to be while she did it. Because there was nobody to hold her. Annabelle went on, “Every day, I’d walk to the bus stop and think, ‘Maybe she’ll come home today while I’m at school and bring me presents. If I’m really good, she’ll be home when I get there, and she’ll give me a big hug and say how much she missed me and say I’m her little ladybug.’ Even though I knew she went with that guy, and she took her car and all her clothes. I thought, she wouldn’t go away with somebody else forever. She’d come back and be with me.”

This helplessness. It was killing him. “She shouldn’t have left,” he told her. “Or not like that. She should’ve gotten a divorce, so she could’ve taken you. I don’t know why she didn’t, but it wasn’t you. I know that for sure. She loved you.”

“Then why did she only send postcards?” she asked. “Why didn’t she come back and visit, even? I keep thinking … if we knew where she was, I could ask to live with her. They’d have to let me do that. She’s my mom.”

“You want me to see if I can find her? See if we could get her permission for you to leave? Or to be an … emancipated minor, or whatever you call it?” He didn’t want to think about it, much less to do it. He had no desire to see his mom. Or he was afraid of what he’d say when he did.

He didn’t want to hate anybody. He didn’t want to hurt anybody. He didn’t want to be his dad.

“Do you think you can?” Annbelle asked.

“I can try,” he said. “I can hire somebody to look, anyway.”

“OK,” she said.

“Go back to bed,” he said. “It’s too cold. I’ll call Alison. And, Bug?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Another promise he might not be able to keep.

Another phone call. Alison, this time. She said, “Harlan? Why are you calling so late? Oh, geez, I forgot your birthday. Sorry. Mattie’s been sick, and