“That sucks, Luke. There’s really nothing I can say to make it better either. I learned that myself when my own mother left me.”
“What? Your mom left?” Luke asked in disbelief.
She heard the clanking of tools and then a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. I was only fourteen. She packed up her suitcases, and when I got home, she was gone. Never came back. Never called. It was like she decided she didn’t want that type of life anymore so she left it behind. Along with me and Nate.”
She blinked away the sting of tears and concentrated.
“What did you do? How—how did you get over it?”
“I didn’t. But I needed to take care of my brother, and when my father began drinking and checked out, we were alone. Life went on. Even though I was sad and I missed my parents, I had Nate. I had friends. I had hope for a great big life I wasn’t going to let anyone take from me. Does that make sense?”
Silence. Then a small voice. “Yeah. It does.”
“Your dad may come back and ask for forgiveness later. He may not. But you have your mom, and with her on your side, you have more than a lot of kids today. Now, that’s not going to make every day better, and you’re still going to do stupid stuff like listening to the wrong boys or making huge mistakes. That’s okay. You’re a kid, you’re supposed to screw up. The good news is your mom will be there to catch you every time. Just give her a break once in a while, okay? She likes that touchy feely stuff like hugs and it makes her happy.”
Luke chuckled. She heard the shift of weight and another rattle behind the freshly formed shed wall. “Okay. I guess I can handle that.”
“Cool. You did an awesome job, kid. Let’s head back inside and see if we can wrestle up some sugar.”
Ella backed slowly away, retreating into the shadows as they began to clean up.
Her hands shook, and her heart seemed to expand in her chest, breaking out of its limits and bursting in a frenzy of light prisms. She had done a terrible, awful, ridiculous thing.
She had fallen in love with Connor Dunkle.
Chapter Eleven
“I am not an angel,' I asserted; 'and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me - for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.”—Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Connor checked his watch and hurriedly snapped the book closed. Damn, he’d lost track of time. Shoving the book under a pile of papers, he told himself it was completely acceptable to think Jane Eyre did not suck. To his horror, he found it kind of hot. At least Brontë didn’t ramble on nonstop about being stuck in a room as a metaphor for her life.
He’d never be a Woolf fan, no matter how hard Ella tried. But over the weeks working on the paper, and being forced to research the lives of the three authors she’d picked, he began to understand the limits placed on creative females. A man could break the rules and be called heroic. A woman was locked up in a mental institution or told to shut up.
Heavy stuff.
He quickly brushed his teeth, changed his shirt, and headed next door. Ella had her first big date set up by Kinnections and he was on his first official babysitting night. He figured they’d order a pizza and play some video games. Or maybe he’d let Luke rent the new Marvel movie out on Pay-Per-View. He loved a good kick-butt superhero movie.
He hadn’t seen Ella since her makeover. Besides extra work shifts, he’d finally scored a meeting with management for an interview. With his solid reputation on the construction site and degree almost in hand, he’d exhibited confidence and felt good about his performance. All his hard work and preparation was finally paying off. He wondered if this was how Nate felt when he was hired at NASA. It was a heady feeling.
Connor didn’t bother to knock. He let himself in and found Luke already playing his Wii. “Hey, dude. You up for pizza tonight?”
“Yeah! You up for me demolishing you in Super Smash Brothers tonight?”
He laughed. “You can certainly try. But I’ve been practicing. Where’s your mom?”
“Upstairs getting ready. She even smells different. Perfume, I guess.”
Unease trickled through him but he shrugged it off. He’d talked to Luke about his feelings seeing Ella dating, but the kid seemed solid. He hoped Kennedy had taken away the orange lipstick. It was easy for Connor to see past the surface and appreciate how amazing Ella was, but guys were still stuck on physical appearance. He hoped this guy treated her nicely and made her feel good about herself. She deserved it.
He headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of lemonade and turned around.