coming around the house with cookies for me. She feels sorry for me."
She wished she could be so prosaic. Logan was a prick, but it was time to move on. Yet it festered and burned and irritated her, the feelings of self-doubt he had inspired in her. Or maybe not inspired, just illuminated. Maybe she had always doubted herself.
Maybe that was why she had never pursued a real job in art.
Maybe that was why right now she was considering taking her forty dollars and buying a bus ticket to Chicago to throw herself at the mercy of her father.
"So what are you going to do, Amanda? If word gets around that the biddy fired you, you'll have a hard time finding another job. I'll loan you the cash if you want to get back to Chicago."
Amanda stared at Brady, at the sincerity in his eyes. He meant it. He would loan her the money, no questions asked, no concerns if he'd see it ever again, all on the basis of a minor friendship.
"That's sweet of you…" But how could she do that? How could she take money from a fifteen-year-old, who Came from a modest, hard-working family, and slink back home to mooch off her wealthy father?
She couldn't. She just couldn't.
It was time to get serious. It was time to find a job—and keep it this time—and scrape together some money. It was time to see if she could stand on her own two feet, or topple off them.
"But I'm staying." And not because it would be the last thing her father would be expecting, but because she needed to prove to herself that she could.
Right as the words left her mouth, she looked up and saw Danny Tucker crossing the street, Piper's hand in his.
A father and his daughter.
And it made her think that maybe there really was such a thing as hope buried deep inside her, hidden under the layers of disappointment and the calluses around her heart.
Chapter 7
Danny hoped he didn't look desperate as he led Piper over to where Amanda was holding down a bench in front of Harriet's hair salon.
But he was feeling a little desperate.
He wanted to do this right, raising his daughter, and didn't want anyone thinking he couldn't handle it. But Piper wouldn't leave his side. And while that thrilled him on the one hand, after a solid week of carting her around the farm, and her showing no signs of ever being willing to let him out of her sight, he was starting to get concerned.
There was work to do, and not all of it could be done with an eight-year-old girl standing next to him.
Part of him wished he could just blow off the work and hang out with Piper. He liked her quiet company and was enjoying get-ting to know her. She was a smart little thing and eager for love. He was eager to give it.
But the reality was that while a crop could grow on its own, it needed a human hand to harvest it. The corn in the north field was ready to be brought in, and he just couldn't see having Piper around heavy equipment. He'd taken a few weeks off from his part-time construction job, but eventually he'd need to go back, especially with the added expenses of Piper's needs.
He wished none of it were the case—that he could stay with his daughter day in, day out for a good, solid year or two to make up for lost time, but life didn't work that way.
"There's Amanda." Piper pointed and waved, a broken smile crossing her face.
Danny thought there was something cruelly ironic that the one person Piper had said she'd be willing to stay with was Amanda Delmar, probably the least likely candidate for a baby-sitter in all of Cuttersville.
Seeing her sitting there with Brady only confirmed it. She was wearing white pants and a sleeveless clingy beige top. And the requisite heels, of course. Not exactly nanny-wear. And no one on a farm wore white unless they were getting married.
But Piper seemed to have formed an attachment to Amanda, probably because her first night in Cuttersville'they had gone shopping with her.
She wished she could be so prosaic. Logan was a prick, but it was time to move on. Yet it festered and burned and irritated her, the feelings of self-doubt he had inspired in her. Or maybe not inspired, just illuminated. Maybe she had always doubted herself.
Maybe that was why she had never pursued a real job in art.
Maybe that was why right now she was considering taking her forty dollars and buying a bus ticket to Chicago to throw herself at the mercy of her father.
"So what are you going to do, Amanda? If word gets around that the biddy fired you, you'll have a hard time finding another job. I'll loan you the cash if you want to get back to Chicago."
Amanda stared at Brady, at the sincerity in his eyes. He meant it. He would loan her the money, no questions asked, no concerns if he'd see it ever again, all on the basis of a minor friendship.
"That's sweet of you…" But how could she do that? How could she take money from a fifteen-year-old, who Came from a modest, hard-working family, and slink back home to mooch off her wealthy father?
She couldn't. She just couldn't.
It was time to get serious. It was time to find a job—and keep it this time—and scrape together some money. It was time to see if she could stand on her own two feet, or topple off them.
"But I'm staying." And not because it would be the last thing her father would be expecting, but because she needed to prove to herself that she could.
Right as the words left her mouth, she looked up and saw Danny Tucker crossing the street, Piper's hand in his.
A father and his daughter.
And it made her think that maybe there really was such a thing as hope buried deep inside her, hidden under the layers of disappointment and the calluses around her heart.
Chapter 7
Danny hoped he didn't look desperate as he led Piper over to where Amanda was holding down a bench in front of Harriet's hair salon.
But he was feeling a little desperate.
He wanted to do this right, raising his daughter, and didn't want anyone thinking he couldn't handle it. But Piper wouldn't leave his side. And while that thrilled him on the one hand, after a solid week of carting her around the farm, and her showing no signs of ever being willing to let him out of her sight, he was starting to get concerned.
There was work to do, and not all of it could be done with an eight-year-old girl standing next to him.
Part of him wished he could just blow off the work and hang out with Piper. He liked her quiet company and was enjoying get-ting to know her. She was a smart little thing and eager for love. He was eager to give it.
But the reality was that while a crop could grow on its own, it needed a human hand to harvest it. The corn in the north field was ready to be brought in, and he just couldn't see having Piper around heavy equipment. He'd taken a few weeks off from his part-time construction job, but eventually he'd need to go back, especially with the added expenses of Piper's needs.
He wished none of it were the case—that he could stay with his daughter day in, day out for a good, solid year or two to make up for lost time, but life didn't work that way.
"There's Amanda." Piper pointed and waved, a broken smile crossing her face.
Danny thought there was something cruelly ironic that the one person Piper had said she'd be willing to stay with was Amanda Delmar, probably the least likely candidate for a baby-sitter in all of Cuttersville.
Seeing her sitting there with Brady only confirmed it. She was wearing white pants and a sleeveless clingy beige top. And the requisite heels, of course. Not exactly nanny-wear. And no one on a farm wore white unless they were getting married.
But Piper seemed to have formed an attachment to Amanda, probably because her first night in Cuttersville'they had gone shopping with her.
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