as I said it, the wind kicked up, and a chill ran from the bones in my shoulders down my body to the ground. “I’d rather stay out here.”
The man shrugged. “Suit yourself. But it’s cold out there, and you said you wanted information on Zach.”
“You said you knew where to find him.”
“I might. But first, I need to know why you’re looking for him.”
I looked down. “No reason. I mean, nothing bad.”
“Are you sure?” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been completely truthful so far. I mean, you told Henry you were staying with the Brewers, but that’s not true, is it?”
I shook my head no.
“Didn’t think so. You’re really staying with Celeste Greenwood.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “But how did you know?”
He laughed. “Little thing called Caller ID.”
“Oh. I forgot they had that here. So many other things are a little . . . retro.” I could feel the warmth coming from inside. In fact, he had a fire going. Somehow, that made it seem even colder out.
“So why are you looking for Zach?”
“I know someone who wants to see him.”
“Who? Old girlfriend? Or creditors?”
“No, nothing like that. No one who wants anything from him, just someone who liked him once, a girl, a friend.”
“A girl and a friend, but not a girlfriend?”
I decided to lie. This guy would never know. I could tell the truth when I met the real Zach. “My mother, Emily Hill, she was a friend from school.”
The guy opened the door farther, taunting me with the heat. “So you’re saying Zach is your father?”
“No, n-nothing like that.” I could barely keep my teeth from chattering. “J-just a friend.”
“Why don’t you come in? If I was wanting to kill you, deserted as it is here, I could have done it by now. Or the cold would do it for me.”
I looked inside. The fire was inviting, and there was a dog lying by it, wagging its tail, almost like Josh’s hardware store.
I stepped forward.
The door slammed behind me.
From behind a pillar, the guy I’d met on the first day, Henry, stepped forward.
“Okay, Wyatt, why don’t you tell me why you’re really looking for Zach?”
42
Rachel
After Mama left, I lay in bed, missing Wyatt, but I knew it was too late to call. Wyatt had told me that the phone in his house would ring and wake everyone. That’s why I had to wait for him to call me.
I was sorry. For all the disadvantages of my upbringing, the one advantage was that I had never missed anyone. Now, I did.
Since I couldn’t call Wyatt, and I couldn’t sleep, I did the only thing that interested me.
I took out the letter.
It was surprisingly crisp looking considering the date on it was almost eighteen years ago. It was written on white paper with blue lines and stuffed in an envelope that was the wrong size. The handwriting was pretty, in purple ink.
Dear Danielle:
Are you okay???? I’m worried about you. Your last letter has me so freaked out. You have to know that it sounds a little (please don’t take this the wrong way) crazy. Is it pregnancy hormones? Fear of your mother? Those weird hallucinogens you took before you got pregnant? All understandable (especially about your mother—she sounds a lot different than I remember her!). But please hold it together. I wish you could come stay with us until your baby comes. I know it’s hard for you. But my parents are just barely managing not to throw me out of the house due to my own, er, delicate condition. I can’t spring you on my mom—especially since she (again, no offense) never liked you very much. This would sort of prove her right and I hate to prove her right!!! Is there someplace else you can stay? I read once about a home for unwed mothers. Do they actually have those, do you think? Or is it just something in books? Also, my mom mentioned that sometimes, when people want to adopt a baby, they’ll find a pregnant girl and pay all her living expenses until she gives birth. I told Mom I am not doing that, but maybe you would. It would allow you to run away.
I know what you’ll say, that someone is after your baby, that that druggie Suzie Mills told you Zach was dead, and that you need to protect your baby because she’s some kind of magical creature or whatever. But that’s the part that sounded crazy. I