Hold Me Close

Effie rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, to be honest. Polly’s not the one being nasty, you know.”

“I know.”

This conversation had not gone at all the way Effie had imagined it would. Consequently, her righteous outrage was fading in the face of Dee’s apologies and pleas on behalf of her lonely, socially alienated daughter. “I’ll talk to Polly.”

“I’ll talk to Meredith. And, Effie...if you don’t want to join the moms’ group, maybe you’d like to grab coffee one day? Catch up? I’m really sorry, I never meant for anything to be hurtful. It got blown out of context. It’s easy to forget there’s a real person on the other side of the gossip. Let me make it up to you.”

“Sure,” Effie said, to her own surprise. “That sounds great.”

Dee sounded pleased. “Great. I’ll call you next week.”

They disconnected and Effie tucked her phone into her pocket. She went into Polly’s room to wish her good-night, only to find her daughter already asleep. Another rush of love washed over Effie, so strong it made her want to cry.

It was only later as she was falling into sleep that Effie jerked awake with that feeling of falling. She’d forgotten to call Mitchell. She twisted in her sheets to look at the clock. Too late now. He really wasn’t the one she wanted to talk to anyway, but although she tapped in Heath’s number, she deleted it before the call could connect.

chapter ten (#ulink_908dee42-bf08-5be9-9e16-3fda070a27cb)

Serving her father coffee, Effie feels incredibly grown-up but far from mature. Not even with the small bump of her belly sticking out from the front of her maternity dress. It’s a horrendously ugly outfit and does nothing to hide the pregnancy she and her father have not yet discussed.

He takes the coffee and sets it on the table to look at her. “You don’t have to stay here, you know that? Your mother...”

“She made herself very clear.” Effie sips from a glass of ice water, the only thing she can stomach right now.

Her father sighs. “She’s sorry about that.”

“I’m sure she is.” Effie shakes her head. “But I’m fine here. Really.”

“If that boy wants to step up and take responsibility,” her father begins but stops when Effie holds up a hand.

“This isn’t Heath’s baby. I told Mom that. But Heath is willing to let me live here. It’s my best option. And it will be fine. Good. It’s going to be great.” As always since she came home, there’s an awkward silence in the space where once she’d have called him Dad. She can’t bring herself to do it anymore. It’s not Daddy, but even so, the name is soured for her. It’s not as if she can suddenly start calling him Pop or something like that. So Effie doesn’t call her father anything, and it’s obvious and uncomfortable, but neither of them ever mention it.

“I know you think so.” Her father frowns. “I understand.”

Effie sighs, sounding very much as he had only moments before. “You don’t.”

“I’d like to,” her father says.

This is never the sort of conversation a girl should ever have with her father. It involves trauma and awful things. Also sex, which wasn’t awful nor a trauma, despite the fact she ended up in this delicate condition when she ought to have known better.

Her father sighs 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.”

chapter eleven (#ulink_f3bab7cd-8d3d-5d9c-9d9f-eb5e5a35be8e)

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.