Hold Me Close. Megan Hart
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again, looking so much older than he had even when Effie came back home, and she’d been shocked then at how much he’d aged in the three years she’d been gone. His smile reminds her of when she was younger and he’d take her on a Saturday to the hardware store to look at the tools. He’s the sort of father any girl would dream of, the kind who will get choked up when he dances with her at her wedding. Not that she’s planning a wedding anytime soon.
“The father. He’s not in the picture?”
Effie has not told the baby’s father that he’s the one who knocked her up. She hasn’t seen him since she found out. If he has by some reason heard about it, and he might’ve, because it’s a small town, he probably assumes, as her mother had, that the baby is Heath’s. And it should be, she thinks with a sudden, fierce twist of her mouth. This baby, the one she’s going to get to keep and not the one she lost, should be his.
She shakes her head. “No. He doesn’t know.”
“You could come home, Effie. We’ll take care of you.” Her father sounds sincere.
Effie believes him. But... “I’m almost nineteen. I’m in school, I’m working, and I’m having a baby. Living with Heath is helping me. We’re going to be all right. I don’t have to come home. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because of your mother? She’s just having a hard time with all of this. Honey, I know your mom likes to talk. But that’s all it is. She’ll come around. You know she will.”
“No, not because of her. Because I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’re still our daughter. You’ll always be our little girl. Effie, your mom and I want to help you. That’s all.” Her father lifts the coffee mug as though he means to drink from it but puts it down without so much as a sip. He shakes his head. Sighs again.
Effie wants to make this easier for him, but she doesn’t know how. “This is the best thing for me.”
“To live in a crap-hole apartment, working and going to school, with a baby on the way? Living with a guy who can barely hold down a job of his own? I give him credit, don’t get me wrong, if the baby really isn’t his—”
“It’s not,” she says sharply. “And he knows that. So he does deserve the credit, and for more than just that. Heath works hard.”
“He’s been in and out of mental hospitals, Effie.”
“Once. That’s it.”
“Once is one too many.”
“Better than just going in and never coming out,” she snaps, not caring if she hurts her father’s feelings now. “Has he fucked up? Yes. We both have.”
“I understand. You went through something terrible together.”
“Yes,” Effie says quietly. “Together. And we’re going through this together, too.”
“Is he good to you?”
It’s not the question she expected, and she’s taken enough by surprise to nod. “Yes.”
Her father stands. “Well. I can’t promise you anything about your mother, but...I’ll try to give him a chance. I just want you to know you have choices. But if you need something, anything, you come to me, okay? I’m still your father, Effie, and I love you.”
“Love you, too, D-dad.” She stumbles on the word but gives her father a huge, long hug.
When he finally lets go to hold her at arm’s length, he looks her up and down. Her mother would have lectured, but her father smiles. He puts a hand on her belly.
“I bet it’s a girl,” he says. “And she’ll be beautiful, just like you.”
Effie missed her father every day, but there were some times when the ache was worse. Tonight, crammed into the middle school auditorium with her mom on one side and Heath on the other, she missed her father very much. He’d have been there with flowers for Polly, even though she only had a part in the chorus. Front row. Clapping until his hands fell off. Effie wisely did not mention this thought to her mother, who was already supremely uncomfortable with the fact Heath had shown up late and, to her, unexpectedly.
“Stacey,” Heath said with a nod and a smile so genuine even Effie believed he wasn’t being sarcastic. In Effie’s ear, he said, “Parking was shit. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You got here before they started, that’s what counts.” Catching sight of her mother’s dour expression, Effie settled herself more firmly between them.
When he took her hand a few minutes into the show, she let him hold it for at least a minute before gently disentangling their fingers. She pretended it was so she could dig in her purse for a tissue, but she knew Heath wasn’t fooled. Dammit, though, he didn’t have to insist on trying to make them into a couple when they weren’t. It put Effie in a bad place, made her the bad guy, and he knew it.
Heath gave her a glance and a smile that Effie didn’t return. He rolled his eyes a little and turned his attention back to the stage. Three hours and one fifteen-minute intermission later, the show had ended and a bright-eyed Polly rushed to greet them in the school lobby.
“Everyone’s going to Buster’s for ice cream, Mom. Can I go?” Polly still wore the heavy eyeliner and blush from the play, and the sight of how she was going to look in a few years as a teenager sent a pang through Effie’s heart.
“I can take her,” Effie’s mother said. “I have some errands to run in the mall. I can shop while she eats with her friends, then pick her up and bring her home.”
Effie hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Her mother smiled and put an arm around Polly’s shoulders. “It’s no trouble at all.”
It was also a way to one-up Heath, something that only Polly didn’t guess. Heath knew it but visibly shrugged it off. Effie gave her mother a lifted eyebrow that she pretended not to see, but refusing would punish Polly, not Effie’s mom.
“Give me your things and I’ll take them home so you don’t have to worry about them,” Effie said, then to Heath, “Are you going to hang around a few minutes, or...?”
“I’ll wait until you get back. I want to tell my girl how great she was.” Heath hugged Polly, then ruffled her hair. From his inside jacket pocket, he pulled out a single, somewhat crushed, carnation. “Here, Wog. You should always get flowers after a performance.”
Oh. Flowers. Effie blinked at the sting of emotion and shot her mother a look that was far too triumphant to be appropriate. Polly was already heading down the narrow hallway to the band room, and Effie followed her through the throng of overexcited tweens. The noise level was insane. She waited while Polly gathered her stuff and piled it into her mother’s arms.
“Polly,” Effie said before her daughter could head back into the lobby. “I just wanted to tell you...you were amazing.”
“It was just a part in the chorus,” Polly said. “I messed up the one dance, too.”
“You were amazing,” Effie repeated.
Polly grinned and hugged her, squeezing too hard and crushing the book bag between them. Effie laughed. “Go on, so you’re not too late.”
A dark-haired girl wearing too much eye makeup even for the school musical paused as she passed them. “Are you going to Buster’s?”
“Yeah.” Polly paused. “You wanna come?”
The other girl smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sure, my mom said I could. I wasn’t going to, but...”
“Nah, you should come. Everyone’s going.” Polly