“Maybe I’ve got a thing for Harper, but a little frustration’s not enough to bring me down. Next time you hear me feeling sorry for myself, give me a good smack.”
“Sure. What are friends for?”
SHE MEANT IT, too. She wasn’t the type to sit around ticking off the negatives of her life to see if she could make them outweigh the positives. If something was wrong, something was missing, she acted. Fix the problem and move ahead. Or if the problem couldn’t be fixed, she found the best way to live with it.
When her mother had left, she’d been sad and scared and hurt. But there’d been nothing she could do to bring her back. So she’d done without—and done pretty damn well, Hayley thought as she drove back to Harper House.
She’d learned how to help make a home, and she and her father had had a good life. They’d been happy; she’d been loved. And she’d been useful.
She’d done well in school. She’d gotten a job to help with expenses. She knew how to work, and how to enjoy the work. She liked to learn, and to sell people things that made them happy.
If she’d stayed in Little Rock, at the bookstore, she’d have made manager. She’d have earned it.
Then her father had died. That had blasted a hole in the foundation of her life, and had shaken her like nothing before or since. He’d been her rock, as she’d been his. Nothing had felt steady or sure when he’d died, and her grief had been a constant raw ache.
So she’d turned to a friend—that’s all he’d been really, she admitted as she turned down the drive to Harper House. A nice boy, a comfort.
Lily had come from that, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. Maybe comfort wasn’t love, but it was a positive act, a giving one. How could she have paid that kindness back by pushing the boy into marriage, or responsibility when he’d already moved on by the time she’d realized she was pregnant?
She hadn’t wallowed—or hardly. She hadn’t cursed God or man, for long. She’d accepted responsibility for her own actions, as she’d been taught, and had made the choice that was right for her.
To keep the child, and raise the child on her own.
Hadn’t worked out quite that way, though, she thought with a smile as she parked. Little Rock, the bookstore, the house she’d shared with her father had no longer been her comfort zones once she’d started to show. Once the looks and the questions and the murmurs had begun.
So, fresh start.
She climbed out of the car, rounded it to open the back door and unhook Lily from her car seat.
Sell everything that could be sold, pack up the rest. Positive, move forward. All she’d expected by coming here to Roz was the possibility of a job. What she’d been given was family.
Just more proof, to her mind, that good things happened when you took steps, when you worked for them—and when you were lucky enough to find people who’d give you a chance to do your best.
“That’s what we are, Lily.” She hoisted Lily up, covered her face with kisses. “We’re a couple of lucky girls.”
She swung the diaper bag over her shoulder, bumped the car door shut with her hip. But as she started toward the house an idea bloomed.
Maybe it was time to try her luck again.
Sit around waiting for things to happen and nothing much did. But act, you either failed or succeeded. Either was better than standing still.
She strolled around the house, taking her time, just to see if she could talk herself out of it. But the idea was planted now, and she couldn’t find a good enough reason to uproot it.
Maybe he’d be shocked or stunned or even appalled. Well, that would be his problem. At least she’d know something and stop wondering all the damn time.
As she rounded the curve in the path, she set Lily down, and let her little girl trot toward Harper’s front door.
Maybe he wasn’t home, out with some woman. Or worse, had some woman in his home. Okay, that would be bad, but she’d deal with it.
It was time she dealt with it.
Though the dark wasn’t deep yet, the path lights were glowing, those pretty soft green lanterns speared at the edges of the brick to guide the way. A few early lightning bugs blinked on and off, on and off over the heads of flowers, and out beyond to the roll of grass to lose themselves in the shadows of the woods.
She drew in the perfume of heliotrope, sweet peas, roses, and the more pungent aroma of earth. All of those scents, along with the different tones of growing green would forever make her think of Harper, and this place.
She caught up with Lily, knocked. On impulse she stepped back and to the side, leaving her little girl clapping her hands at Harper’s front door. Where the porch light was on, a glowing circle of yellow.
When the door opened, she heard Lily give her greeting—something between hi and hey and a cry of pleasure.