Heart Like Mine A Novel - By Amy Hatvany Page 0,24

told her brother. “We can make cookies this afternoon, if you want,” I said, desperate to find some way to get them out of this school and into an environment with which I was at least familiar.

“You don’t bake,” Ava said quietly. Man, I thought. Too perceptive for her own good. Still, they both picked up their bags and followed me out to my car.

We arrived at our house after a silent car ride, and the kids trudged inside, eyeing me. “When is Dad going to be here?” Max asked. “Doesn’t he have to be at the restaurant tonight?” Victor usually worked at the Loft on Friday nights, then picked up the kids from Kelli’s place first thing Saturday morning. I knew from taking care of my brother that kids do best when they know what to expect, so both were clearly thrown off by this deviation from their normal routine.

“And why aren’t you working?” Ava said before I could respond to Max. “You’re always working. Mom says so.”

I’ll bet she does, I mused silently, then immediately chided myself for thinking ill of the dead. “I’m my own boss, so I gave myself the afternoon off,” I said, each of my words feeling precariously forced. “What do you guys feel like doing?”

“I’ll be in my room,” Ava said, and she walked slowly down the hallway. I heard her bedroom door click softly shut. She definitely sensed something wasn’t right.

“What about you, Max?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Can I watch TV?”

“Sure,” I said. I knew he was supposed to read before he plopped in front of Phineas and Ferb, but I figured if any day should be one for breaking the rules, it was today. My cell phone vibrated in my purse, and I grabbed for it, thinking it might be Victor.

“What’s up?” Melody asked. “Your text was only three words long. Are you okay?”

“Just a sec,” I told her now. I looked at Max. “I’ll just be down the hall, okay, buddy?” He nodded, then headed into the den. I rushed to our bedroom and locked the door behind me, just in case either of the kids came to look for me. I didn’t want them to overhear. “Kelli died,” I said breathlessly.

“What?” Melody exclaimed. “Oh my god. Are you serious? When? How?”

I filled her in on what I knew, which wasn’t much. “And now I’m in the house with the kids and they know something’s up.” I paused, another sob threatening to take me over. “Well, Ava does. Max is watching TV.”

“How long is Victor supposed to take at the hospital?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t heard from him yet. I can’t imagine it would take too long, but I suppose he’ll have to tell them where to take her body and—” My voice broke, as his had earlier, and my pulse suddenly beat in a staccato rhythm. “Mel, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what? Tell them? You don’t have to. Victor does. It’s your job to support him, and be there for the kids if they reach out to you. That’s it.” She sighed. “And you guys just got engaged, too. Geez.” I’d called Melody immediately after Victor had proposed last weekend, and she’d squealed into the phone, babbling about wedding-dress shopping and finding the perfect venue for the ceremony, but our schedules had been so busy she hadn’t seen the ring yet. I wasn’t sure I could tell people about the engagement now. Victor’s ex-wife is dead . . . oh, and by the way, we’re getting married.

“That doesn’t seem very important all of a sudden,” I said. The tiniest part of me felt sad my excitement over getting engaged had been eclipsed and I was totally ashamed of this brief, selfish thought.

“Of course it’s important,” Melody said insistently. “It’s just really shitty timing.” She sighed again. “Do you want me to come over and keep you company while you wait? I can cancel my last client.”

“That’s sweet,” I said. “But probably not a good idea. They’d suspect even more if you were here. I’ll call you if I hear anything, okay?” We hung up and I threw myself onto my back on the bed, my gaze traveling the room where Victor and I slept. When I moved in, he insisted I bring everything from my house that I wanted to display and willingly packed away most of his minimal, but clearly masculine, décor.

“This is your house now, too,” he said. “I want you to