At last Mom called me out of the van. “You want to get to the pool, don’t you?”
Shoving my book into my bag, I climbed from the van. As I approached my parents, I heard Big Ned Lyman saying, “I’ll have my nephew get right to it as soon as possible. Give you a call a bit later. Let you know. But it’s likely it won’t be done till late tomorrow.” He reeked of cigarette smoke, and I wondered how Mom and Dad could stand being so close to him. They must really like him. They told me once that he was the most honest mechanic they’d ever met in all of Utah Valley.
“Meghan, come on,” Dad called. My sister was in the back of the garage, talking to some guy. I was surprised. At home she’s all talk, but around strangers she’s very shy. I don’t understand it because what one person has to say is just as important as what anyone else might say.
“I know that in my heart,” Meghan told me once. “It’s like I have a whole bunch of good ideas, but when I go to say them aloud, they don’t come out quite right. They come out in my diary just fine. In fact, I think maybe I should be a romance writer.”
“I’d read all your books,” I had answered. “In between doing heart surgeries, that is. Just don’t make them too sappy.”
Now Meghan came running over to us, looking flushed and rather pleased with herself.
“What took you so long?” I asked Meghan as we got into Dad’s car that was parked outside the shop.
“It’s Mr. Lyman’s nephew.” Her voice lowered and her blue eyes became dreamy. “He’s really cute. He has kind of messed up brown hair, and his face is very tan. He said he’s from Florida. He’s got these big brown eyes that seem to look right into you. Anyway, I saw him here last time, but I’ve never talked to him. Today he came over to talk to me. He said he thought I looked seventeen, can you believe that?”
I couldn’t. My sister was almost sixteen, but she looked maybe fourteen. “How old is he?”
She shrugged one shoulder, bare except for the strap of her swimsuit. “Don’t know. It’s not like I’m serious about him—you know I like Wade. But he’s nice to talk to. I tried to get you to come over. We were waving at you.”
“It’s okay. I was reading that book you gave me.”
In the front seat Mom was pointing the way to the pool, though Dad already knew where to go. “You’ll have to pick up the girls, Gary,” she said. “On your way home from work, I mean.”
Dad nodded. “I need to make up this little bit I’ve taken off to drive you home, but I can be there by seven-thirty. Okay girls?”
“Seven-thirty?” groaned Meghan. “Dad, it’s almost five now.”
“Two and a half hours is plenty of time to be in the pool,” he said in his do-not-argue-with-me-young-lady voice.
“Your dad’s right. It gets dark by seven. Besides, we’re going to a party tonight and we’ll already be running late. We’ll need you two to baby-sit.” Mom dug in her purse and came up with a few dollars. “Here, you can each buy something from the vending machine. But remember not to keep your father waiting.”
“We won’t,” we mumbled.
Outside the Rec Mom said as she always did, “Now remember, stay together, and don’t go anywhere with strangers.”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course not.” We scrambled out of the car. “Bye,” I shouted. Without a backwards glance, we ran down the sidewalk to the entrance.
We left our towels and clothes in a locker and hurried to the indoor pool. The warm air was heavy and thick with chlorine, and the sound in the huge room was odd. Everything had an echo. The water shimmered under the lights, moving randomly until it slapped against the sides of the tiled pool. There was a shout from the far side where some kids were playing with a ball.
“There they are,” Meghan said, turning to me. “You go first, okay? I don’t want to seem too anxious.”
I started over, while Meghan followed uncertainly. I wish she weren’t so shy. At home, she’s normal, but she suddenly changes when she walks out of our door. Sometimes it’s hard seeing your big sister act like a little kid. Then again, I’m probably so outgoing because of the way she is. Someone had to speak up, and since Meghan never did, I learned to.
“Hey,” I greeted our friends as I sat on the edge of the pool. The water felt cool to my bare feet, not nearly as warm as I’d hoped.
Wade looked up at us and smiled very brightly. His sister Tamara did, too. She was a year older than me and a year younger than Meghan. We both really liked her.
Jay threw the ball at me. “So, you made it.” He looked kind of funny with his blond hair plastered down with water, but I didn’t mention it like I would have normally. They never mention that kind of thing in one of my novels, and for the moment at least, he was my hero.
“Yep.” I threw the ball back, hard enough to hurt if he didn’t catch it. He did.
Wade swam to the side of the pool and was talking to Meghan, his dark eyes never leaving her face. I wondered if he could see how awkward she felt. He was so close to her that the ends of her long hair brushed his face as she slid forward into the water.
Some other kids arrived and we played tag for a long time. I was the fastest and only Jay could catch me. Then we had a water fight. Jay and Wade dunked me after I splashed them good. It was a lot of fun.
After a while the boys climbed out of the pool. “We have to get going,” Wade said. “We’re going to a movie later. You guys want to come?”
Meghan looked at me, obviously embarrassed to remind them that we were too young to date. Even if going with them wasn’t exactly a date, just a bunch of kids going to the movies, Mom and Dad would never see it that way. We learned at church that we should wait until sixteen to begin dating, and then in our family we were only allowed to group date until we turned eighteen. I knew Wade and Tamara’s parents were a little more lenient on the group dating, but they should know better than to ask us.
“Can’t,” I said. “Our parents are making us baby-sit.” I’m never one to beat around the bush, as my dad would say, but I said this for Meghan, because in a few months she would be sixteen and could go with them as much as she wanted.
“Yeah, our dad’ll be here soon anyway,” Meghan said. “But thanks.”
We climbed from the pool and went into the locker room to dress. While Meghan dried and curled her bangs, I rubbed my hair with my towel until it hung in loose waves to my shoulders—all in one length.
“Got an elastic?” I asked Meghan. She did and I put my hair in a ponytail so it wouldn’t make my neck cold.
When we got outside it was pretty dark, though not quite seven-thirty. I shivered since my suit was still wet under my T-shirt and jeans. I began to wish I’d changed out of it like Meghan. A brown-haired man with a hat pulled low over his head came from behind us, followed by an older couple. They got into separate cars and drove away. Then we were alone.
“Look, it’s Wade!” Meghan pointed to a rather battered dark car that pulled up beside us. Jay was driving.
I leaned my arms on the open windows in the back where Tamara was sitting, while Meghan stood by the front passenger side facing Wade.
I bent to whisper in Tamara’s ear. “I think they’re hitting it off.”
Tamara nodded and gave me a wide smile. I could tell she approved.
“Want a ride home?” Wade asked Meghan.
She looked indecisive, so I popped my head out of the car, nearly pulling out my ponytail on the hook above the window. “Our dad’s on his way,” I assured Wade as I rubbed my sore head.
He smiled. “Oh, that’s right. You told us already.”
“I have my cell here,” Jay said from the driver’s seat. “We could call to make sure.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but it won’t do any good. Our parents are always on time.”
“Okay, then. See you around.”
We stepped back from the car and watched Jay take off. Meghan sighed heavily. I ignored her and started down the sidewalk to pace, hoping it would warm me up a little.
The dark sky was cloudless and the stars seemed extremely close, though I was only beginning to understand how far away they really were. My science teacher at school said that if you were lucky enough to live to seventy-seven and a half years old, you could look up at the star Regulus in the heart of the constellation Leo and you would be seeing the light that was emitted from that star on the day you were born. Pretty interesting stuff.
Sometimes when I stared up at the sky, I thought I might become an astronomer instead of a heart surgeon. I wondered what it would be like to visit a star.
I laughed aloud, thinking that I’d been watching way too many of those Star Trek reruns Dad always had on.
I walked almost to the end of the sidewalk. Glancing behind, I saw Meghan sitting on the steps that led to the upper entrance of the Rec, staring in the direction Jay’s car had gone, as though hoping he and Wade would return.
I decided to walk the remaining few steps before going back. The large lawns of the Rec gave me a feeling of eerie calmness in the dark, but I liked the solitariness of it. Sometimes with all the noise at home, it’s hard to think.
My thoughts scattered at the sound of an engine. Twirling my dark blue CTR ring on my middle finger, I looked up to see a car coming toward me, headlights blazing like twin suns. I blinked, trying to see past the light. Probably it was Dad, and he’d already picked up Meghan on the stairs. I couldn’t see where she’d been sitting because of the light in my eyes, but I was sure he would have spotted her first. Stepping to the curve I reached for the door and opened it.
It wasn’t my father’s car.
As I registered that fact, a hand whipped out and pulled me inside. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to scream. Or to kick or yell. The driver peeled off in a squeal of tires.
As he turned the car around a corner, I collected myself enough to begin fighting back. I clawed at the hand grabbing me, but it held like iron. His other hand left the wheel for a moment and slammed into my head. Stars burst into bright flame all around me and then I was falling backward into a dark hole.
END OF PREVIEW. If you would like to purchase A Heartbeat Away, please click here. Don’t miss the bonus preview of A Greater Love coming up next! To learn more about the author and her books, please continue to the About the Author section following the bonus preview..
Preview
Chapter One
Miguel Silva darted through the crowd at the outdoor flea market, making the usual rounds to beg for his breakfast—or steal it, if necessary. The gypsies and other Portuguese vendors watched him with well-placed mistrust and kept a close eye on their wares. This would be a morning of brisk business and barter, and in the afternoon the makeshift marketplace would be gone without a trace except for the garbage left behind.
Slipping around a stall packed with handwoven sweaters, Miguel crouched into his chosen position opposite a large fruit stand. Small for his nine years, he made himself even smaller against the colorful orange tarp that formed the side of the music booth. The latest American music CD blared into the crisp November air from two small speakers attached to the roof of the stall.
Wait, he told himself.
The fruit man turned his head to help a black-clad lady adorned with several layers of gold jewelry, and in that instant Miguel crept close and grabbed at the tin box holding the morning’s proceeds.
He had it!
A strong, hairy fist closed around his wrist. “Gotcha!”
Miguel jerked his hand away, leaving behind the treasure. The fruit man made a shooing motion toward him, glaring at him with dark eyes, but Miguel snatched two green apples from one of the baskets before plunging into the crowd. “Thief! Thief!” the man yelled.
Miguel shot a glance behind him as the cries faded. He laughed. Stealing the apples was almost too easy. Too bad he didn’t get the money—that would have been better. For once Octávia would have been pleased, and that night they would have eaten a dinner fit for kings.
His partial success making him sloppy, he barreled into the stocky figure of the uniformed police officer who patrolled the flea market. A black baton swung gently from a hook at his waist as his sharp eyes searched for potential troublemakers—like Miguel. “Get a move on, boy,” he said, not unkindly.
“I ain’t done nothin’,” Miguel replied, hitching up his oversized pants. Once they had been blue but were now a dirty brown. He shivered and pulled his sweater down to cover the bread roll he’d stolen earlier and tucked into the top of his pants near the broken snap in front.
The policeman’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah? Then what’s that you’re hiding? And what’s bulging in your pockets?” He pointed to where Miguel had stashed the apples.
Miguel bolted, fear making his feet fly as he dodged through the sea of somberly dressed people. Occasionally, he looked back to see if the policeman was following him.
I’d like to see him catch me now, he thought.
Even though it wasn’t likely, the idea made his stomach ache. Only once had he been careless enough to be caught. The police had taken him to a dingy orphanage whose matrons hadn’t approved of his attitude, and he’d spent most of his time there in trouble. Nothing he had known previously had been worse than those two long weeks before his Aunt Octávia had finally been found.
“I thought you’d run off,” was all she said. That night she had surprised him with candy and extra bread. Sara, his little sister, had hugged him hard and cried.
Now Miguel neared the edge of the flea market where Octávia waited, dressed in her usual black skirt and sweater. She watched with tiny jet eyes, skinny arms folded over her drooping bosom, as Sara asked people for money. Sara spotted him and smiled, and Miguel grinned back. When his sister smiled it was as if a light went on inside her, making him feel warm all over. Her eyes were another wonder—a deep brown, with tiny flecks of light gold dotting the dark pools, so large in her small face.
“Come, Miguel.” Octávia’s thin lips also twisted into a smile, revealing black spots on her yellowish teeth. She held out her hand, beckoning. Reluctantly, Miguel approached, lowering his head and hunching slightly. He placed the roll and one of the apples into her outstretched hand.
“What’s this?” she screeched, tugging on her large beak of a nose. The familiar gesture caused Miguel’s shoulders to shrink further and Sara’s smile to vanish. Both waited in frozen terror. Talon-like fingers dug into Miguel’s upper arm as Octávia’s voice lowered threateningly. “I told ya I wanted money! Or somethin’ of value.” Her voice sounded slurred from the alcohol she’d already consumed that morning, but her meaning was clear. She drew back a thick-veined hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. Miguel’s eyes filled with tears at the stinging pain, but he blinked, unwilling to let them fall.
“I need more from ya. More! If ya can’t beg for it, steal it, but get it!” She brought her face close to his, and Miguel could see how the skin sagged into deep wrinkles. “Or maybe next time ya get picked up by the orphanage, I’ll let ya stay there.”
Sweat broke out all over Miguel’s body, despite the crisp winter air. Octávia’s threats were worse than her wicked outbursts of temper. If he stayed in an orphanage, he would never see Sara again. He couldn’t imagine not being with Sara.
“I’ll get more,” he promised, his voice croaking like the frog he had found last year in the woods near their shack. “I always do, don’t I?” He straightened, trying to fake a confidence he didn’t feel.
Octávia’s sharp face transformed, becoming almost friendly. “Yeah, you do at that, Miguel. You was always one to get us what we need. I taught ya right. I’ll be expectin’ a load tonight.”
Sara’s smile returned at the sudden shift in their aunt’s demeanor. Miguel felt a wave of relief. “You’ll get it, so lay off.” He dug into his pocket and held out the remaining apple to his sister, shooting a furtive glance in search of the policeman.
“Hurry along,” Octávia said gruffly to Sara. “We gotta get to the subway
before the morning crowd’s gone.” As the old lady turned away, she took a quick bite of the roll Miguel had given her. His stomach growled at the sight, but he would find more to eat later.
Sara pushed her apple at him. “Keep it. I always get somethin’ to eat in the train station. Don’t worry ’bout me. Besides, I ate the last of the bread this mornin’.” She paused, wringing her thin hands as she always did when she was thinking. “Miguel . . . you know—don’t ya?—that Octávia don’t mean it. ’Bout the orphanage. She just talks like that when she drinks.”
“I know,” he said. He did know. Sometimes Octávia was the nicest person he knew—until she drank, which was getting to be all the time now. When she drank, her quick anger came to the surface all too easily. Each time she would tug at her nose and then explode.
Resentment simmered in Miguel’s heart, but he wasn’t mad at Octávia exactly; he just hated the heavy knot of fear in his stomach. He forced the fruit back into Sara’s hand. “It won’t always be like this. One day real soon, we’ll leave Portugal, maybe go to Switzerland and find a good job. People do it all the time.”
Sara’s lips curved upward in her angelic smile. “And then Octávia won’t gotta worry about buying us stuff ’cause we’ll have so much. She’ll be happy always. We’ll eat all we want and sometimes ride in a big boat.”
Her words pushed Miguel’s fear into a tiny corner, almost out of reach. It was nice to know Sara shared his dreams, that one day they would be happy and free. She pressed his hand and flitted away, running to keep up with Octávia’s retreating figure.
“I’ll bring ya somethin’ back tonight,” he called after her. Ever since he could remember, he’d kept a bit of the money he earned each day to buy something for Sara, risking Octávia’s anger when there wasn’t enough to pay for the liquor she craved. It was worth it. She was his sister and he would take care of her.
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