Heart Like Mine (40 page)

“Oh, Ava, thank god you’re safe,” he said, pressing his mouth against the side of my head. His voice was ragged, edged in tears. He pulled back, dropped me slowly back down, and cupped my face in his hands. “We were so worried. What the hell were you
thinking
?”

I blinked away my tears and looked over to Grace. She gave me a small smile and ran her hand down the side of my arm. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” I said, turning my head to glance at Bree, and Dad dropped his hands from my face. “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath. “How did you find us?”

“We checked your mom’s house, then thought you might try to go to see your grandparents,” Grace said. “The bus seemed like the cheapest way to get there and you guys are too young to buy a plane ticket on your own.”

“Do you have any idea what could have
happened
to you here?” my dad demanded. “Or on a bus to another state? I don’t even want to
think
about it, Ava. I can’t believe you’d do this.”

My bottom lip quivered. “I’m
sorry
,” I said again, dropping my gaze to the ground. “I just knew after I told you I lied to you and skipped school and went to Mama’s house and called her parents, you’d make me stop trying to find out what
happened
to her.” I looked up at him again, suddenly panicked, realizing everything I’d just confessed, terrified of what he might say next.

Seeing the distress on my face, his own expression shifted from one of anger to one of understanding. “Grace told me everything, honey.” His voice was gentle, and for some reason, that just
made me want to cry more. “If this was so important to you, why didn’t you talk with me about it?”

“I
tried
to and you wouldn’t even let me go to Mama’s
house
!” I blurted, then sucked in a rough breath. Grace took a step toward me, but Dad put his hand on her shoulder so she’d stay back.

“You’re right,” he said, bobbing his head softly, seemingly urging me to continue, so I went on.

“I was so
angry
at you,” I said, then threw my gaze over to Grace. “At you, too.” Her expression didn’t change, but she nodded the same way Dad had, keeping her eyes on me. I took another deep breath, not caring that we were in the middle of the bus station and a few people around us were starting to stare. “And you know what else? I’m
still
angry at Mama, because she lied. She lied and now she’s gone and it’s
not right
for me to feel this way about her. I want to know what happened so I can stop being so mad. I don’t want to hate her. I want to understand why she kept secrets from me. I want to know why everyone thinks it’s okay to keep
lying
to me!”

I lost control then. Sobs racked my body and Grace rushed over, put her arms around me, and pulled me to her. Her body was soft and yielding, her embrace so different than Mama’s, her touch solid and reassuring. Mama’s always seemed to drain something
from
me. Slowly, I slid my arms around Grace and held on tight, my tears wetting the front of her jacket. Dad put his hand on my back, rubbing it; Bree stood next to him, tears in her eyes, too. Grace stroked my hair back from my face and all I could think was how I used to do the same thing for Mama when she cried. After Dad left us, how often I’d wished Mama had it in her to still do it for me.

I melted into Grace, finally letting myself give in to the fact that she wasn’t a horrible person trying to take my daddy away.
I’d tried to hate her, I’d tried to make her the bad guy, but she’d shown me that she cared about me, and even when I was just awful to her, when I’d been downright rude, she didn’t leave.

After a few minutes, my tears finally began to subside and I looked up to see Daddy with tears in his eyes, too. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying that all around, Ava,” he said. “I’m sorry that I didn’t let you go to your mother’s house when you wanted to. I thought I was protecting you, but I can see that I was wrong.”

I couldn’t believe I was the one who’d made the mistakes and here he was, apologizing. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at Grace, then back over to me. “I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you more about when your mom was a teenager. She made me swear not to. I thought I was doing the right thing, doing what she asked. I thought it would hurt you too much to hear the truth.”

I pulled back from Grace, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. I looked at Bree, who frowned at me and gave a short shrug. I turned my eyes back to Dad. “What’s the truth? What didn’t she want me to know?”

He hesitated a moment, dropped his chin down, and gave me a stern look. “If I tell you, you have to wait and let me tell Max, okay? When he’s a little bit older. I
will
tell him, but I think right now, it might be too much.” I nodded, and Grace nodded, too, as though he were asking the same thing of her. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Your mom got pregnant when she was fourteen, Ava. And her parents were so ashamed of her, they sent her away.”

“Oh my god,” I said, and I heard Bree gasp, too. The small bits of information I already knew suddenly made sense. “She
did
? Why wouldn’t Mama talk about it? Why wouldn’t she want us to know?”

“She was ashamed, honey. She tried to push it all down and pretend it had never happened. And when a person does that long enough, all that grief can start coming out in unhealthy ways. I begged her over and over to get help. But she wouldn’t.”

“What happened to the baby?” Bree asked, and my dad shot a surprised glance over to her, as though he’d forgotten she was there, then looked to Grace.

“She was most likely adopted,” Grace said in a calm voice. “We don’t know any of the details, really.”

“
She?
I have a
sister
?” I asked, forgetting my tears. “Can we look for her?”

Grace and Dad looked at each other again, as though they were trying to decide. “Dad,” I said, pleading. “
Please
.”

Grace gave a slight nod, and Dad sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Yes. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, honey. Because she might not even know she’s adopted. Or even if she does, she might not
want
to meet her birth family. We’d have to respect that.”

“Okay,” I said, knowing he was right, but still excited at the prospect of getting to know a sibling I never knew I had. I could tell her all of the good things about Mama . . . and then, maybe someday, I could share some of the harder stuff with her, too.

My dad reached over to hug me again and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Ava. We’re going to find our way through this. But no more lying and sneaking around. No running away. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, tearing up again. “Can I talk with Grace alone for a minute?”

“Sure.” He gave me another squeeze, then grabbed my suitcase. “Come on, Bree,” he said. “I’ll buy you a soda.”

Grace and I watched them walk toward the small concession
stand, Bree looking like a toddler next to my dad. Grace turned to me and released a long breath. “Want to sit? I’m wiped.”

We moved to a nearby bench, not saying anything for what felt like a few minutes. “So you told Dad everything, huh?” I finally said. “Even about us going to Mama’s house for the recipe?”

“Yep. When you took off, I didn’t really have a choice.”

“I get it,” I said, barely lifting my shoulders. “It was kind of easier that way, I guess?”

“Maybe for
you
!” she said with a smile and a nudge.

“Sorry,” I said, laughing. “You’re right.” I looked down to my lap, unable to meet her gaze. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that. I just . . . everything with my dad . . .” I trailed off, trying to find the words to express what was going through my mind.

“It’s all right,” she said gently. “I understand how you’ve been feeling maybe better than you think.” I gave her a quizzical look, and she smiled. “I was your age when Sam was born . . . did you know that?” I shook my head. I knew her brother was younger than her, but not
that
much younger.

She nodded and then went on. “Well, I was. And my dad wasn’t like yours. He was pretty reckless. He didn’t care about being a father, and because my mom had to work nights and weekends to help support us, I was responsible for taking care of my brother when she wasn’t there.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “I know that it’s not exactly the same thing, and I know you’ve been through so much more than I could even imagine, but I do know how it is to feel like a grown-up in some ways and still be a kid. It pulls you in different directions. Makes you feel sort of imbalanced. When I was thirteen I just wanted to be with my friends, you know?” She paused. “But here’s the thing. It was really hard for me to take on all that responsibility,
just like I’m sure it was hard for you to take care of your mom so much. We did it because we
had
to. But now you and Max are with us, and we want you to enjoy being kids.”

“I
still
want to help find my sister,” I said, but the words were soft, padded with relief. Grace seemed to understand more about me than anyone else ever had. Maybe even more than Mama. And while I felt a little guilty having this thought, part of me hoped that Mama would be
happy
I had someone there for me now that she couldn’t be. Someone I could talk to when I was worried or sad, someone who could never replace her but might make me feel less alone.

“Of course,” she said, then we were quiet for another minute. I knew I had to hurry up and say what was on my mind before I chickened out. “Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m actually glad you’re going to marry my dad,” I said. “You make him really happy.”

She reached over and put her arm around me. I stiffened at first, even after our hug, still not accustomed to letting her show me affection, but then I relaxed into her body, feeling her warmth, the confidence behind her touch. “He makes me happy, too,” she said. “When he’s not driving me nuts.” She jiggled me a little to let me know she was joking and we both laughed.

“I promise I’ll try to stop being such a pain,” I said. “I’ve made everything so hard on you.”

“It’s not all your fault, Ava. I’m not exactly perfect, either. After your mom died, I was really scared about helping to take care of you guys.”

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine Grace being scared of anything.

“Really,” she said, nodding. “Things have been tough for
all
of us, but I kept thinking I was making it worse.”

I suddenly wanted to reassure her, too. “You were actually really nice. Even when I was being mean to you.”

“Ha!” she said. “Yelling is not exactly nice.”

I shrugged, remembering the few times she had yelled at me, for fighting with Max and taking money from her purse; I probably deserved it. “Neither is lying and stealing.” I looked at her, tears blurring my vision. “That’s not the kind of person I want to be, Grace. I hope you give me another chance.”

She hesitated only a moment before leaning over and hugging me again. “I hope you’ll give me one, too,” she whispered, and then together, we stood up and walked over to meet my dad, both of us ready to let him take us home.

Some books come more easily than others, and I might not have finished this one without the support of several amazing people.

From the beginning, Greer Hendricks, my brilliant editor at Atria Books, sensed the kind of story I was
trying
to write and page by page (sometimes word by word!) helped me coax it into place. Sarah Cantin, a talented editor in her own right, shared vital and personal insight on a key aspect of the story—I cannot thank her enough.

As always, thanks to Victoria Sanders, the most resourceful, encouraging, and hysterically funny agent a girl could have, who calmly navigated my fits of insecurity and made me believe in myself all over again. I am beyond lucky to have her in my corner. Thanks also to Victoria’s team: Chris Kepner and Bernadette Baker-Baughman, for everything you do for us crazy artistic types!

My deepest gratitude to the other amazing people at Atria who make this writing life of mine possible—to name only a few: Judith Curr, Chris Lloreda, Paul Olsewski, Lisa Sciambra, Hilary Tisman, Carole Schwindeller, and Aja Pollock. I’m grateful for the entire sales team at Atria, who work tirelessly to help get my books out into the world, and for the art department for creating such stunning, affecting covers.

Special thanks to Cristina Suarez, my extraordinary publicist at Atria, for cheerleading, enthusiasm, and her general fabulousness. Also, for incredibly tasty No Bake Makery treats! Can’t wait for your cookbook!

I’m indebted to Tina Skilton, my dearest friend, who read and listened to me gnash my teeth over this manuscript more times than either of us could count. Laura Meehan provided me with keen editorial input, enthusiastic moral support, and perhaps more important, many adorable pictures of her sweet baby Noah’s gorgeously cherubic face. (Laura, I’d drive with you through questionable areas of San Francisco anytime.) Thanks also to Laura Schilling, for listening to me babble on about the plot and brainstorming with me about soap operas and secrets.

For early reads and immensely valuable feedback, thanks to Stacey Harrington, Liz Ward, Laura Webb, and Beth Mellone. And for one of the most enjoyable, hysterical lunches ever, as well as stunning professional support, thanks to Pennie Ianniciello, Shana Lind, and Melissa Medeiros McMeekin.

Friends are the family you choose, and I couldn’t write without the love and support of mine: Sally Cote, Sherrie Stockland, Carmen Bowen, Loretta McCann, Cheryl Baulig, Belinda Malek, Brad and Deanna Martin, Rachael Brownell, Allison Ellersick, Jerrilyn Harvey, Kristie Miller Cobb, Robin Hart, Kurt Jensen, Kristin Cleary, Kelly Angel, Greg and Sue Bateman, Curt and Tracey Hugo, Wendy Bailey, Denise Brandon, and oh so many others, I can’t list them here. I love you.

Thanks to the amazing book bloggers who have embraced my stories and helped share them with new readers—I am so grateful for you. To every reader who takes the time to write a review or tell someone about my books, to those who write me about how a story has affected them, I cannot thank you enough.
Also, to my friends and fellow writers on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads—I appreciate you all so much!