The Sweetest Thing Read Online Free PDF Page B

where Nanny is filling the pot with water. She looks at my puppy dog eyes and stuck-out lower lip, turns off the faucet, and lifts my chin. “You know, dear, you could look at this like it’s a good thing. Like maybe the man upstairs has bigger plans for you than you might have for yourself.” She tilts 37

    her head upward.
    Great. Now she’s going to get all Baptist on me.
    I turn my face away from her. “Right. You might want to ask Father Crowley about that. The way he looked at me this morning, I’m pretty sure he thinks God’s written me off completely.”
    “What?” She flips on the stove, hoists the pot onto the fire. “That old coot has nothin’ to do with it. Neither does your father. And neither, I might add, does your mama.
    Your life is yours to make the most of, or completely screw up. Your choice.”
    She whips open the oven, where a huge roast is starting to brown. “Although I’d recommend letting the big guy take the lead.” She jerks her head upward again. “Way better than the alternative. Trust me.”
    “You know, it is true. . . .” I lean on my elbow, chin in my hand, and watch her as she bastes the meat. “This plan is awesome so far. Dad barely notices me. Mom is who-knows-where. I can’t wait to see what happens next!”
    Nanny stops and grabs hold of my wrist. Her eyes are so fierce I can’t return her stare. “Now you just stop that kind of talk, girl. You have so many gifts. A tender heart. More talent than you know what to do with. And”—she loosens her grip—“you’re a true blessing of a granddaughter.”
    I look at her. She’s as sweet as can be. I can’t imagine not seeing her every day.
    “I just don’t want things to change, Nanny. Not again” A 38

    tear pools in the corner of my eye. “Everyone thinks something’s wrong with me because I’m not excited. Isn’t it okay that I just want things to stay the way they are?”
    “Well, of course it is. This is your home, and it is part of you.” She wipes away the tear that’s falling down my cheek.
    “But darlin’ that will always be true. No matter where you’re at. All’s I’m sayin’ is, just hold tight and see what’s waiting for you, baby. Don’t sell yourself short.” She pats my back.
    “We’ll talk to your daddy, tell him what worries you. But right now, we got us a supper to cook. Why don’t you flip on the record player?”
    “It’s a CD player, Nan,” I sigh. We’ve covered this before.
    She shrugs as I reach for the power button and press Play.
    “Mamma Mia,” by Nanny’s favorite band of all time, abba, blasts across the kitchen. She starts disco dancing, chopping board in one hand and a chunk of salt pork in the other.
    I laugh, but as I peel potatoes for dinner, my worries pile up like the skins that fall into the sink.
    It’s six o’clock and Dad isn’t here. I cal his cel when we sit down to dinner. Leave a message. Text him twice. No answer.
    Where is he? Maybe sitting around telling ExtremeCuisine stories to his adoring staff; maybe off with that giggly new waitress. Who knows?
    Nanny and I sit down to eat. Only I’m not hungry at all.
    We’re in the small dining room, and the light from above catches the edges of the crystal glasses that Nanny has set 39

    out for this celebration. We’re even using the fine china that belonged to my great-grandmother.
    Nanny is concerned. I can tell. She puts her hand on mine, talks to me like I’m four. “Remember what I said, baby doll. Maybe you can’t see it now, but there’s so much in store for you.” She puts a hand on her heart, like she’s saying the Pledge.
    I don’t have the energy to argue, so I stand up. I was going to talk to him, to tell him my worries. But the truth is, he doesn’t care. “I’d better get going. I’ve got homework.”
    “All right, but let’s have a piece of that ridiculous cake first.”
    “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”
    “Oh, honey.”
    I pick up my plate and walk