All I could do was shrug. "Maybe? It was a long time ago, pumpkin. It all happened when I was in eleventh grade, so maybe? But I had something else on my mind."
"Yeah, me." Then she giggled. "Mom says you freaked out."
"I did not," I insisted. "When your mother said she was pregnant, I went and got a job so I could take care of you."
"And freaked out," Faith teased. "Did you really quit football because of me?"
"Yep, and I'd do it again." I reached over to ruffle her hair. "Best mistake of my entire life. Now, enough about me. How are you liking summer break, kiddo?"
That was how I finally got her talking. One thing led to another, and Faith became the bright child I knew she should be. She told me about the classes she'd signed up for next year, reminded me that I'd promised to take her riding, and asked if I'd get her a subscription to some video game. I put my foot down on the last one. She tried to use the "everyone is doing it" excuse, but that didn't fly. She was twelve. Playing World of Warcraft? That was a little more appropriate for high school.
"What about swimming lessons?" I tried instead.
"But Dad!" Faith dragged that out in the way only a young girl could. "I know how to swim and if they see me in a bathing suit, they'll say I'm a fat pig."
"You," I insisted, "are not a 'fat pig.'"
"Olivia says I can't be your kid because you were cool, and I'm just fat. She's got all the girls calling me that."
"Faith," I said gently, "I wasn't cool. Being a high school dropout isn't cool at all. Starting a family before I got my diploma?" I shook my head. "I was so cool my parents didn't even want me anymore - and I'd never do that to you. Baby, these people will take any mistake anyone makes and try to turn it into drama. All you can do is keep moving forward, ok?"
"Like that works."
I chewed on the inside of my lip, well aware that she was right. "Then what do you think we should do?"
"Mom says the only thing I can do is go on a diet." Her shoulders heaved in a fake shrug. "So, I guess that's what I'll do."
"Pretty sure you don't need a diet, kiddo. I kinda think you're the most beautiful girl in the entire world."
"Whatever."
Ah, the joys of having an almost-teenage daughter. In that one little phrase, she proved what I had to look forward to: years of hormonal attitude. If she was anything like her mother, my life was going to become a living hell soon enough. Not that I'd mind. I had a funny feeling that putting up with Faith's crap would be its own kind of blessing. I just wanted to make sure she turned out nothing like her mom.
Faith was smart and sweet. She deserved to go to college and become something. I just had to figure out how to make that happen, and that meant a better job. Hearing that the girls her age had been giving her a hard time made me want to do something about it. Sadly, there was really nothing to do. Their parents said their children wouldn't act like that. They tried to put the blame back on Faith. In the end, every time I tried to stick my nose in it, things only got worse for her.
That meant I had to come up with something new, and spoiling my little girl for a few days was all I had.
Chapter Five
Bright and early Saturday morning, the movers arrived, but they weren't the only ones. Half an hour after the big truck pulled in, one of my neighbors decided to see what all the excitement was about. The big white one-ton dually lumbering up my drive gave me a clue the visitor was local. When Paul Simmons climbed out of the cab, I knew it wasn't a friendly visit. The glare on his face said he'd finally figured out that I wasn't just passing through.
"Moving in?" he asked, proving I was right. "Or moving out?"
"Still not selling," I told him as I held the door open for the first of many boxes. "And all the rest isn't really any of your business."
"It's my business if you plan on starting up that camp again."
I quickly made sure the movers knew where everything went, then marched back out of my house to face him. "No, Paul. That might be how you think things work in this town, but it's a myth. You don't have any right at all to know my business. You don't get to tell me what to do."
He chuckled and leaned up against his truck. "Think so? Well, just so you know, I already called Don Campbell and told him this place is fallow. Oh, and since you're technically within city limits, you can't open a new business without the City Council's approval." The smile he ended with oozed condescension.
That wasn't what I wanted to hear. Granted, I wouldn't just take his word for it, but knowing I was going to have to ask these people for permission? That would be an uphill battle. If Paul Simmons was already trying to pick a fight about it, then the battle lines were drawn.
I licked my lower lip and nodded to myself, bracing for it. "Tell me, Paul," I asked a little too sweetly, "why do you care? For twenty years, Southwind was a juvenile rehabilitation center for selfless offenders. Hundreds of kids managed to turn their life around because Vera and Bea showed them that crime wasn't their only option. They showed them how to overcome their unfortunate starts and make something of themselves. Why wouldn't Cats Peak be bragging about that?"
His eyes narrowed and he almost leaned forward. The motion was subtle, as if he was trying very hard not to bite my head off. "Those kids were nothing but trouble. You know how much vandalism we had because of them?"
"None. Students weren't allowed off the property. Location monitors assured it." I lifted a perfectly-sculpted brow. "Keep trying."
