more I can do, let me know, okay?" Brynn asked when Suzie had finished.
The teenage girl started to cry once more, and Brynn hugged her close and whispered reassurances. "Everything will work out, Suzie, don't worry."
The teenager sniffled and left the school. Silently Brynn returned to her classroom and sagged onto her seat, her heart heavy with Suzie's news.
Suzie was pregnant. The girl was little more than a child herself. So tiny and delicate, it was a wonder she'd been able to disguise her pregnancy this long. The fact that she'd gone without prenatal care hadn't escaped Brynn's notice, either.
The desire to wrap her arms around the teenage girl and protect her from the harsh reality of being a single mother nearly overwhelmed Brynn. More than one of her students was a mother. Brynn had been surprised to learn Yolanda had a two-year-old son. The boy stayed with Yolanda's mother while Yolanda attended classes to complete her education. Denzil had bragged to her about fathering three children. He'd done so in an effort to shock her. The fact that he was sexually active didn't astound her, but his attitude toward the number of children he'd fathered with different girls did.
By the time Brynn left the school, she felt as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. It seemed only natural to seek out Father Grady, but the parish priest was gone for the afternoon.
Mrs. Houghton, his housekeeper, seemed to sense Brynn had come for more than their usual friendly chat. "Do you want me to try to reach Father Grady?" the kindly older woman asked.
Brynn stood outside on the rectory steps. She shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary. I'll talk to him later."
"Are you all right, dearie?"
"I'm fine," Brynn assured her, but she wasn't.
Blindly she made her way toward the subway station, but as she neared the entrance, she hesitated. The thought of returning to an empty apartment held no appeal. With no clear destination in mind, she turned back, her shoulders slumped and her steps slow.
Roberto. She needed him. Although she trusted Roberto, she couldn't tell him about Suzie's condition. That would be breaking the teenager's confidence.
By the time she arrived at his garage, her eyes burned with unshed tears. The tight knot in her throat made it difficult to speak.
Roberto was bent over the hood of a car, and when she walked into the shop, he glanced up. He knew immediately that something wasn't right.
"Brynn, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she lied. "Would you mind holding me for a little bit?" she asked, and her voice cracked.
He didn't hesitate, didn't question her, but simply did as she requested. Gently he laid aside his tools and brought her into the wide circle of his arms. "I'm greasy," be advised with regret, his touch light and tender.
Brynn burrowed deeper, needing his comfort. "I don't care."
His arms came fully around her then as he brought her against his solid strength. The hurt and fear, the disappointment and doubt, produced a hard, bitter tightness in her chest, and she clung to him.
"Brynn," Roberto whispered against her hair, stroking it away from her face, "can you tell me what's upset you so?"
She shook her head. The dream she'd had for her students seemed to have crumbled at her feet. Suzie had shown such promise, and Brynn had wanted so much for her. An unplanned pregnancy wasn't the end of the world, but Brynn didn't want Suzie caught in the trap like so many others. The teenager loved and wanted this child, enough to hide her pregnancy past the time she could have had an abortion. Enough to stand up against the wrath of her family.
As best she could, Brynn swallowed the emotion. "It was just one of those days," she said, drawing in a quick, stabilizing breath.
"It was more than that." He led her to a stool next to his work bench, and when she was seated, he paced the floor in front of her. "It's this neighborhood, isn't it?" His voice was gruff with anger. "You don't belong here. I told you that before and you refused to listen." He continued muttering in Spanish, knowing full well she couldn't understand him.
"Roberto." She reached out to him, but he ignored her. "Stop talking like that. Nothing you say is going to convince me to leave."
He rubbed his hands clean on a pink flannel rag and then burrowed his splayed fingers through his thick hair, leaving deep indentations.
"If I'd known this