A Slice Of Heaven. Sherryl WoodsЧитать онлайн книгу.
into your clothes.”
“I’m not gaining weight,” Sarah said. “In fact, I’ve even lost a couple of pounds by eating sensibly.” She gave Annie a chagrined look. “I’d give anything for a burger and fries, though. To hear my mom and dad talk, that’s all kids ever did back in the day. They went to Wharton’s after football games and pigged out. They went there after school and had milk shakes. Can you imagine?”
“No way,” Annie said.
The last time she’d eaten a burger and fries, she’d been having lunch with her dad. That was the day he’d told her he was leaving, that he and her mom were getting a divorce. Of course, after she’d witnessed her mom tossing all his stuff on the front lawn it hadn’t come as a huge shock, but it had made her sick just the same. She’d left the table at Wharton’s, run into the restroom and lost her lunch right there.
Since that awful day, nothing had appealed to her. Not the burgers and fries she’d once loved, not pizza or ice cream, not even the stuff her mom had on the menu at the restaurant. It was like her dad had yanked her appetite right out of her, along with her heart. Finding out that he’d cheated on her mom, then watching that huge, embarrassing scene on the front lawn, had pretty much killed any desire to ever eat again. Annie knew her mom had been right to do that, but it had left her feeling all alone and empty inside. Her dad had been the one guy who’d always thought she was the most beautiful, special girl in the world. She supposed he still did think that, but he wasn’t around to tell her. Hearing it on the phone wasn’t the same. No matter how many times he said it, she dismissed it because there was no way he knew how she really looked these days. It was just so much blah-blah-blah.
“It would be kinda nice to hang out at Wharton’s, though, wouldn’t it?” Sarah said wistfully. “A lot of the kids still go after school.”
“Go ahead and do it,” Annie said. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“It wouldn’t be any fun without you,” she protested. “Couldn’t we go just once? We don’t have to order what everyone else is having.”
Annie was already shaking her head. “Last time I went with my mom and Maddie and Ty, they all stared at me when I ordered water with a slice of lemon. You’d have thought I’d asked for a beer or something. And you know Grace Wharton gossips about everything. My mom would know in an hour that I was in there and didn’t have anything to eat or drink.”
Sarah looked disappointed. “I guess you’re right.”
Annie felt a momentary twinge of guilt. It wasn’t right that her hang-ups were keeping her best friend from having fun. “You know,” she said at last, “maybe it would be okay. I could order a soda or something. I don’t have to drink it.” Her mood brightened. “And maybe Ty will be there.”
Sarah grinned. “You know he will be. All the cool guys go there after school. So, when do you want to go?”
“Might as well be today,” Annie said. “I have to go see Ms. Franklin now. I’ll meet you out front after I’m finished and we can walk over.”
Wasting money on a drink she wouldn’t even sip was a small price to pay to spend an hour or so around Ty. Not that she was fooling herself by thinking he would pay the slightest bit of attention to her. Not only was Ty a senior, he was a star on the baseball team. He was so beyond her reach. He was always surrounded by the most gorgeous girls in his class. He seemed to like the tall, thin ones with long, silky blond hair and big boobs. Annie, at only five foot three, with chestnut curls and no chest to speak of, couldn’t compete with them.
But she had one thing none of those girls had. She and Ty were almost family. She got to spend holidays and lots of other special occasions with him. And one of these days, when she was thin enough, when her body was absolutely perfect, he was going to wake up and notice her.
2
It was hotter than blazes working on the roof of yet another house in yet another new subdivision, this one outside of Beaufort, South Carolina. The sun was pounding down on Ronnie Sullivan’s bare, sweat-drenched shoulders, and under his hard hat, his head was soaking wet. His work boots felt as if they each weighed a hundred pounds.
In the past two years Ronnie had worked more construction jobs around the state of South Carolina than any man with good sense ought to. The more physically demanding, the better. He was pretty sure if he kept it up much longer, the sun would bake his brain completely, especially since he’d decided to concede defeat to his receding hairline and shave his head.
After all these months of taking any job that was offered, then going back to a cheap motel room for a cold shower, and out to some bar for an icy beer and greasy food, he was exhausted, physically and emotionally. But no matter how exhausted he was when he tumbled into bed, it was never enough to chase away the nightmares and regrets.
There was no question in his mind that he’d blown the best thing that had ever happened to him—his marriage to Dana Sue. Worse, he’d done it stupidly and carelessly, not even once thinking of the consequences until it had been too damn late.
Years of heat exposure, from a lifetime of working construction, was the only possible explanation for his idiotic decision to have a fling back in Serenity—the gossip capital of the South—practically under his wife’s nose. It had taken about a nanosecond for her to find out he’d slept with some woman he’d met in a bar after work. One time, dammit, but nobody in Serenity was handing out passes for freebies. Once was more than enough to rip his life apart.
Dana Sue hadn’t given him even a minute to explain and beg her forgiveness. She’d tossed two suitcases filled with his belongings on the front lawn, not even caring that half the contents were falling out all over the place. She’d screamed that he was lower than pond scum, that she hated him and never wanted to see him again. The entire neighborhood had witnessed his downfall. A couple of women, showing their solidarity with Dana Sue, had actually cheered her on.
Ronnie had wanted to stay and fight for their marriage, but he’d known Dana Sue long enough to recognize that stubborn, fiery glint in her eyes. He’d left, knowing he was making the second-worst mistake of his life. The first had been that tawdry, meaningless, one-night affair.
Before he’d gone, he’d taken his little girl out to lunch to try to explain things to her, but Annie hadn’t wanted to hear his explanations. At fourteen she’d been just old enough to understand exactly what he’d done and why her mother had been so furious. She’d listened to him in stony silence, then gone into the restroom and stayed there until he’d had to send Grace Wharton in after her.
Since he’d left, not a day had gone by when he hadn’t regretted hurting Dana Sue or putting that devastated look in his little girl’s eyes. Falling off the pedestal Annie’d put him on had just about broken what was left of his heart.
During the divorce proceedings he’d fought for visitation rights, but Helen had kept them to a bare minimum. Not that it had mattered. He’d spent more than a year trying to maintain some kind of contact with Annie, but she’d hung up on every call and refused to see him when he’d tried to arrange a visit. He knew some of that was out of loyalty to her mom, but a good bit more was her own disappointment and anger. For a few months now, she’d at least taken his calls, but the conversations still tended to be stilted and uninformative, nothing at all like the heart-to-hearts they used to have.
Since Dana Sue and Annie weren’t that eager to see him, Ronnie hadn’t set foot in Serenity again, coward that he was. But lately he’d been thinking more and more about going home. He wasn’t cut out for a vagabond’s life. He hated living in motel rooms and moving from place to place in search of work. He’d been on this last job for the better part of a year, but it still wasn’t the same as settling down. Even the freedom to make a play for a woman when he felt like it had worn thin. He figured there was a certain amount of irony in that.
The truth was, he missed being married, especially to Dana Sue, who’d stolen his heart when they were fifteen and hadn’t let loose of it yet. Why he hadn’t