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He checked her name off a list and collected her paperwork before pointing her to a seat. The testing started at eight o’clock on the dot. Haven breezed through the fifty questions on grammar and punctuation, but the second part of the writing test stalled her. She’d practiced a lot by filling her notebooks, but she had never written anything for someone else to read before.
The instructor announced they had forty-five minutes as Haven read her essay prompt:
What does it take to be a good parent?
In your essay, describe the characteristics of a good parent. Use your personal observations, experience, and knowledge.
Students huffed and pencils scratched against paper as Haven stared at her topic. What did it take? Her father, abusive and malicious, refused to acknowledge he had created her. She suffered years of torture under his care before he had sold her with no regard. If Dr. DeMarco hadn’t come along, she would have ended up at an auction, sold as a sex slave for money to buy whiskey and Cuban cigars.
Haven’s anger grew as she bit down on her lip. Her mama had the best intentions, even though she was helpless. She hid her for protection and never failed to keep the one thing even Haven had lost over the years—hope.
o;Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“To get to the other side, of course.” She smiled at that one, and he threw up his hands. “Well, damn. You’ve never heard that before?”
“No.”
“You need more comedy in your life. Carmine drained you of a sense of humor.”
Before she could say anything, he disappeared under the water, and a splash flew in her direction. He resurfaced, and she groaned. “That wasn’t funny.”
Nicholas stepped out of the lake and grabbed his shirt. “Apparently nothing I say or do is.”
Haven hesitated but followed behind, not wanting to loiter in the water alone. They strolled over to the lounge chairs. She grabbed a towel while he plopped his wet body down.
“So, you guys really are in love? It’s not bullshit?”
“We are.”
Nicholas grabbed Tess’s purse. Haven watched in shock as he rooted around in it. He pulled out a pen and an old receipt, scribbling something on the back of it.
“Here’s my number,” he said, holding it out to her. “You call me if you ever need anything. I promise to say nothing bad about your boyfriend . . . not a lot, anyway.”
She took it and read the number. 555–0121. “Uh, okay.”
“It’s not a crime to have people to talk to,” he added, standing. “I’ll catch you later, Haven.”
* * *
Once again, at seven in the morning, Haven awoke to Dominic’s insistent pounding. She pulled herself out of bed and trudged over to the door, finding him in the hallway with a grin. “Hey, Twinkle Toes. I’m proud you remembered your pajamas this time.”
The week passed in a repetitious haze, mornings at the diner and afternoons with Dominic and Tess. Dia would occasionally stop by to play a game or watch television, and evenings were Haven’s to do as she pleased. She spent them in the library, reading under the moonlight. She studied relentlessly for the GED, doing practice tests Carmine had printed out for her.
Little cooking or cleaning got done, except for the occasional sandwich at dinner or a load of dishes. She felt bad slacking off on her duties, but whenever she attempted to clean, Dominic pulled her away. She was afraid of what Dr. DeMarco would think, but he didn’t seem to notice.
It was the afternoon of the sixth day when Haven sat in the family room with Dominic, staring at the clock on the wall. She counted the seconds as they ticked by, each one bringing her closer to Carmine’s return.
* * *
“Fuck!”
Pain shot through Carmine’s wrist as his fingers numbed. He shook his hand, trying to get rid of the tingling, as the coach bellowed, “Shake it off, DeMarco!”
Carmine groaned, flexing his fingers. What did it look like he was doing?
To say he had had a bad week would have been the understatement of the century. Carmine was out of shape, his wrist was sore, and half the team harbored resentment for him for one reason or another. All he wanted to do was play football and go back home, but karma had finally caught up with him.
And karma was a bigger bitch than Tess Harper.
