Mother's Day Read Online Free PDF Page B

querulous, high voice. “We can’t forget what happened to Amber. Gosh, I’m so sick of Amber. Nothing happened to me. Why does it have to be such a big deal?”
    “Don’t you tell me it’s no big deal,” Karen said, her voice shaking, “I’m the one sitting here worrying about you. If you can’t be trusted to let us know where you are, then you won’t be allowed to stay with your friends. That’s all there is to it.”
    “That’s not fair,” Jenny cried. “It was one time.”
    “You heard your mother,” said Greg.
    “You don’t even listen to me. You just push me around.”
    “I’ve listened to you all I’m going to,” said Greg. “You get up to your room and when you are ready to apologize to your mother and act like a decent human being you can come down.”
    Muttering under her breath, Jenny stamped out of the room and started up the stairs, her feet banging on each step.
    Suddenly the doorbell rang. “Who’s that now?” Greg said with a scowl. “What timing.”
    “I’ll get it,” said Karen. She walked out into the center hallway and opened the door. A stranger stood on the doorstep. She was around thirty, slim and nicely dressed, with dark, shoulder-length hair. She was holding a bouquet of flowers and a shining, ornate wooden box. Her face was pale and heart-shaped, with a dusting of brownish freckles across her nose. She looked at Karen with anxious blue eyes and swept her bangs off to the side with a nervous gesture that gave Karen’s heart a queer little twist.
    “Mrs. Newhall?” she asked.
    Karen nodded.
    “I know I should have called first, but I was afraid I’d lose my courage.”
    Karen’s heart thudded in her chest. “That’s all right,” she said automatically, but a voice in her head was clamoring, No, no, it’s not. This was a face she had t never seen, a voice she had never heard, a name unknown to her. But instantly, instinctively, Karen knew her.
    “May I come in?”
    Karen stood back, and the woman stepped into the hallway. Jenny, who had halted at the top step when the doorbell rang, came halfway down and hung curiously over the bannister.
    The woman looked up and saw Jenny there. Her eyes widened. “Are you Jenny?” she asked.
    Jenny nodded and came down another step.
    The woman looked apologetically at Karen. “I hope you don’t think this is too terribly rude or strange, but I had to come.”
    “Who is it?” asked Greg, coming into the foyer.
    Karen felt as if she were frozen where she stood, her gaze riveted to the woman’s face, unable to reply.
    The woman was staring at Jenny. “I’ve tried to picture you a million times,” she said almost to herself.
    Jenny looked questioningly from the stranger to Karen and then back. “Am I supposed to know you? What do you want?”
    It was obvious to Karen that Jenny did not see it. To a thirteen-year-old girl, her own appearance was nothing more than a collection of insoluble problems, a source of constant anxiety. A mouth too wide, hair too greasy, a pimple no makeup could disguise. A thirteen-year-old girl could not be expected to see her reflection in a middle-aged face. But Karen could see it. And more than that, she could feel it, like a threat in the air. “Wait a minute,” Karen blurted out.
    But it was too late to stop her. The woman smiled tremulously.
    “My name is Linda Emery,” the woman said to the bewildered girl. “I’m your mother, Jenny. Your real mother.”

Chapter Two
    A paralyzing numbness seeped through Karen’s body as she heard the words and watched their meaning register on Jenny’s face. The girl froze on the stairway, holding the bannister in a white-knuckled grip, her stunned gaze fastened on the stranger. “You’re my mother?” she said.
    Tears formed in Linda Emery’s eyes and rolled down her freckled cheeks. She nodded and then glanced at Karen apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.” She looked tenderly back