The Mother's Secret: A powerfully emotional, gripping and unforgettable novel (Powerful emotional novels about impossible choices by Kate Hewitt) by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt , Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837902880
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

LAURA

I don’t know what to do about the rose. It’s been two weeks since I found it on my desk, and I still haven’t done anything about it besides that awkward conversation with Rachel, where I stopped short of telling her the truth. I’d gone there to see Andy, hoping he might have some wisdom, but in the end, I think it was probably better I didn’t talk to him. I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it has to be, and I’m not sure a male teacher would understand. And yet I feel guilty.

I don’t have anything to hide, so why do I feel like I do? Why do I feel as if I am keeping secrets—except, now I am, because I haven’t told anyone, not even Allan, about the stupid, stupid rose.

It was a mistake not to, I realize that now, two weeks later, but once you’ve decided not to tell something, it feels worse to come clean far too late. How would I explain my silence to Liz Pollard, to Allan, to anyone? I have tied myself in knots over this one stupid boy, until I feel like I am obsessing about him, about what he does, or says, or even thinks, and I don’t even want to.

I find myself tracking him when I see him walking around campus, as discreetly as I can, but sometimes I think he notices, a prospect which makes me inwardly cringe and squirm with humiliation as well as fear. Even in an assembly, I know where he sits. It’s as if I’m physically attuned to him, an internal antenna always on alert, and that scares me. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t even want to think about feeling this way—or why I do.

I tell myself it’s just the nervousness of knowing he’s something of a wild card, but what if it’s more than that? I think of my mother, guessing that Ben was good-looking, that he wasn’t some scrawny sprout of a spotty-chinned kid. How did she know? Why does it make a difference?

It doesn’t help that Allan is too busy even to ask me how my day is, or that Liz Pollard still treats me with an insufferable kind of condescension, while Anthony ignores me, and John, while nice enough, just keeps his head down. I have no friends here, no one to confide in, no one to understand something I can’t even understand myself. I text Katherine, trying to maintain our connection, and she answers three days later, just a couple of words. I ask Tucker if he wants to come over for dinner, and he tells me he has a lot of homework. I text Elise, and her reply seems cautious, guarded; the affection we once had has been tarnished by this change to our relationship—the dependency I have on her, the lack of trust. I think about asking Rachel for another coffee, because she’s the closest friend I have in this place, but something stops me.

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