Heart Like Mine A Novel - By Amy Hatvany Page 0,23
away, so I knew she was in the middle of an appointment with a massage client and couldn’t answer her phone. Then I pulled back into traffic and drove the rest of the way to Seattle Academy. On the way there, I attempted to give myself a pep talk. Sam was right. I could do this. I could maintain whatever front I needed to with the kids. I was the adult; they would trust me. I’d adopt the same demeanor I’d learned to use when first talking with a domestic-abuse victim—I’d be calm and collected. I’d listen more than I’d speak.
The office was on my left as I entered and I approached the front desk, letting the secretary know who I was and why I was there. She was a plump, older woman with bluish-gray hair the same airy texture as cotton candy. “Mr. Hansen said to expect you,” she said, frowning. “It’s just so sad. I can barely believe it. Kelli was the best mother.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling impossibly inferior. Of course she was the best. Of course I could never live up to her.
“Can I see your driver’s license, please?” the secretary asked. “It’s our routine security check.”
I pulled out my ID and showed it to her, thinking how my license broke me down into such simple parameters: age, height, weight, and eye color. I wondered if this was how the doctors who took care of Kelli defined her when she came in. Thirty-three-year-old woman, approximately five-one, one hundred pounds, blue eyes. I flashed on what she might look like laid out on a gurney. Her skin pale and cold. Those blue eyes shut. Not moving. Not breathing anymore.
“Thank you,” the secretary said, placing my license back in my hand and snapping me back to the moment. I blinked and tried to erase Kelli’s image from my mind.
“Are they still in class?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ll buzz their teachers and let them know to send them to the office.” She glanced at the clock above the door. “We weren’t sure exactly when you’d get here. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Again, I nodded, and I plopped myself into a hard, black plastic chair, anxiously gnawing on my fingernails, a childhood habit that only returned when I was nervous. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the secretary’s powdery perfume. A few minutes later, Max entered the office, and I stood to greet him.
“Hey there, Maximilian.” I used the familiar nickname his father used, then suddenly wished I hadn’t. It was theirs, not ours.
He stopped short in his tracks and stared at me with his mother’s eyes. “Why are you here? Where’s Mom?”
I smiled. “Your dad asked me to pick you guys up. We’re going back to our house, okay?” It still felt a little strange to call it “our” house, even though I’d lived with Victor for several months now. The kids were only there on the weekends and I wasn’t sure they were all that happy to have me be there for breakfast when they woke up. I reached out and put what I hoped was a reassuring hand on Max’s shoulder. “He’ll be there soon.”
“But where’s Mom?” Max asked, dropping his backpack to the ground. His brown hair was mussed and a curious expression quickly etched itself across his freckled face. He was small for seven, his frame delicate—almost birdlike—and the top of his head barely reached my chest. “When am I going to get my growth spurt?” he often asked Victor, who was just over six feet tall. “Next Wednesday, three A.M.,” Victor always joked in return, and Max would giggle—a bubbly, guttural sound.
“She couldn’t be here to pick you up today,” I said carefully. “Your dad will talk with you about it when he gets home, okay?” I forced a smile, feeling the stiffness of the motion in the muscles of my cheeks. “Look, there’s Ava.”
Max’s sister entered the office and stared at me, too. “Grace.” Her tone was flat. “Where’s my mom?” She wore slim-fit jeans, a purple fleece jacket, and knee-high black boots that appeared too big and too grown-up for her skinny legs. I wondered if they were Kelli’s. Ava was petite and pretty like her mother, but I could definitely see the shadow of her father in her dark brown hair and the almond shape of her eyes.
I sighed internally, keeping that fake smile on my face, and told her the exact same thing I’d just