Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. A sharp clenching in her chest made her gasp for air. She fought the tears that threatened to flood her eyes and race down her face. He wouldn’t leave them ... would he?
As much as she detested his actions, he was still her daddy.
She leaned her ear close to his face. He stunk. It made her stomach turn again.
She couldn’t hear any breath.
She poked him again. Harder. And again. Even harder.
“Daddy?” She shook him with all she had.
No response.
She touched his face again. Cold. But it was snowing outside, and the temperature was frigid. Maybe he was passed out. He did that at home all the time lately.
Sitting down beside him, she shook him and poked him.Over and over. If he was dead ... what would they do? Mama and Havyn and Madysen would cry. So would she.
What would become of them?
The few wonderful memories she had with her dad began to play in her mind. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Playing outside in the snow. Him chasing her around the house until she crumpled on the floor, giggling.
She shoved him again. “Wake up! Havyn and Maddy need some good memories too.” With her other hand, she swiped at her hair.
If he was dead ... she’d never have to come find him again. He’d never come home drunk. Never make Mama cry.
No.He couldn’t get out of his responsibilities that easily.Someonehad to take care of them. He’d promised he’d stop. Get cleaned up. Be the husband and father they needed.
A pounding started in her ears as heat rushed to her cheeks. Every ugly thing she’d ever wanted to say to him threatened to spew from her mouth as she pushed and shoved, poked and prodded.
But after several minutes, she slumped down. Not a moan or a sound came from him. Swallowing against the tears, she swiped at her cheeks.
It was no use. He was dead. Gone.
Glancing from side to side, she searched the street. Not a soul around that she knew. No one she could trust to help.
What would she tell Mama? How could she fixthis?
The wind howled, and her hair flew in her face again. The strands, wet from the snow, stuck to her nose.
Shecouldn’tfix this. She couldn’t even get him home. It was one thing to drag her drunken father home when he had use of his legs, but when he was dead weight?
The tears stung her cheeks as they escaped, and the windthreatened to freeze them on her skin. As much as she wanted to be strong, all she wanted now was Granddad. Whenever she couldn’t turn to Mama, he was her rock.
But how could she leave her dad in the street to go get Granddad? What would happen to Daddy if she left him there? Would anyone care? Would he get run over by a horse?
How could Daddy do this to them?
For several minutes, she allowed the tears to flow. Then she swiped at them again, her wool coat scratching and rubbing her cheeks raw. Why couldn’t he do what he was supposed to do so that she could be a kid? Butno... here she was in the middle of the street crying over his sorry form. Mama would tell her not to be angry with him. Again. But she was.
She was furious!
Whitney surged to her feet and glared down at her father. Her hands fisted at her sides. “Ihateyou. Hate you for leaving us. Hate you for making Mama cry.” She lifted her chin. “But I won’t cry for you. Never again.” She made the meanest face she could and forced it at him. Too bad he couldn’t see it.
“Whitney? What are you doing out here?”
She whirled around.
Granddad!
