Читать книгу The Secret Wife - Carrie Weaver - Страница 7

FOURTEEN DOLLARS, thirty-seven cents—all that stood between Maggie McGuire and destitution. She slid the change into her pocket, along with the damp crumpled bills.

The Oklahoma rest stop was unusually desolate for a Friday morning. Or so she guessed. Maggie had rarely ventured beyond the Arizona borders.

Peeking through the open car window, she watched David squirm in his sleep. The car seat was too confining. The baby needed room to stretch out and roll.

What kind of mother hauled an infant clear across the country to Arkansas? And for what? The off chance that Eric would surface at his family reunion? Eric, who thought family was an unnecessary drag on his life?

Maggie had told herself it wouldn’t come to this, that losing her job wasn’t the end of the world. But she’d quickly discovered there weren’t many jobs where she could take her baby along, especially working nights. The child-care center where she’d been employed for the past six months had been ideal. But the building was scheduled to be demolished and replaced with a strip mall.

Brushing her hair off her forehead, she figured her ponytail had come undone somewhere in New Mexico. Now it was loose and wild, a copper-colored reminder that she couldn’t afford haircuts.

Eric.

She leaned against a primer-gray fender, glancing up at the clear sky. The air was fresh and warm. Innocent.

She’d been innocent once. A long, long time ago.

David whimpered.

Maggie let her eyes feast on the glorious sight of her child. Her David. A wave of protectiveness washed over her.

Eric had sidetracked her dreams, but he’d left her with a precious gift.

A gift that was nearly out of formula and diapers.

Panic hit as she inventoried the contents of the thrift-store diaper bag. Four diapers, four scoops of formula. Her eyes burned as her fatigued mind did the math.

That bought her six hours, tops.

And it was at least eight more hours till McGuireville.

As if on cue, the baby’s hungry wail echoed through her head. Huge blue eyes beseeched her. As if maternal guilt wasn’t enough, she was certain, somehow, some way, the authorities would know the minute the last drop of formula passed David’s sweet lips. And they’d take him away. Just like they’d taken her niece, Emma.

Maggie straightened her shoulders and shook off the specter of losing her only child. Nobody would be able to say she was an unfit mother once she had a degree in hand and a decent paying job. But until then, the rent was behind, her tuition was due and only fourteen dollars stood between Maggie and the nameless, faceless authorities who haunted her dreams.

David’s hungry cry galvanized her into action. She opened the car door and unbuckled the restraint harness. He stilled, waiting expectantly.

She kissed one tearstained cheek, then the other. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s going to make everything right. Soon.”

Only eight more hours to McGuireville.