Free Teaching Willow: Session Four by Paige James Page A

belly is showing a little more these days, but not so much that I can’t conceal it with baggy shirts.  That’s undoubtedly why she thinks I’m getting fat. 
    Dumb ass.
    “Well, lucky for you, you won’t have to look at me much longer.”
    Sage turns to stare at me, giving me a disgusted look.  “I can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.”
    “Why?  I can take care of myself just fine.”
    “But moving to the beach?  To work at a surf shop?  Seriously?”
    I shrug, not giving her the satisfaction of another argument.  Besides, the less I tell her, the better.   She has no idea what my real plans are.  I’ve been waiting tables at a really nice restaurant in Gainesville, saving my money so that I can get a place of my own.  I’ve already been approved for state assistance with my maternity care.  It’s amazing how easy it was to swallow my pride when it came to a choice between trying to make it on my own and taking the best care of my baby.  My daughter won, hands down.   
    I found out last week that I’m having a little girl.  With every day that has passed in this pregnancy, my child has become more and more of a lifeline.  I live for her.  Everything I do, everything I eat, every plan that I make is for her.  I’m always thinking of what will be best for her.
    Living on my own isn’t ideal, of course, but I can’t risk my family finding out. I can’t be sure what they’d do and, to me, it’s just not worth it to find out.  My daughter and I will be just fine without them, just fine on our own. I can’t risk them trying to take her from me.  So I’ve decided that, come hell or high water, my baby will be cared for and loved with every breath I take. 
    Starting with making a new life for us. 
    Last week, just when I was beginning to get desperate and dejected about my options in life, I saw an ad for a child care technician at a day care.  A job like that, no matter how much it pays, couldn’t be more perfect.  After the baby is born, I can take her to work with me, something that I already cleared with the supervisor during my interview.  As it turns out, between my age and my educational background, I’m just what they were looking for.  And they were definitely just what I was looking for.  Paying for day care would’ve left me with no money for anything, but now I won’t have to worry about that.  I will be able to move into my rent-controlled apartment at the end of the month.  It’s near the hospital and my new job (once I start next week), and it backs up against a park, which will be perfect for me and the baby. 
    Life is far from perfect, but it’s better than I could’ve hoped for when I woke up in the hospital all those weeks ago.  Now if I could just stop pining away for Ebon…
     

TWENTY-TWO- EBON
     
    I stare at the contract.  Like every other aspect of my life for these last endless weeks, this seems surreal.  But finally, something is surreal in a good way. 
    I still can’t believe that a publisher wants to pay me for my book.  Granted, it’s not a life-changing amount of money, but just the fact that they want it, the validation of it, leaves me speechless.  Not to mention the fact that if it sells well, I’ll get royalties.  And if it sells well, they might want more.  And if sells well, I might finally be able to make a living at my dream job.
    If only the rest of my dreams had come true as well.
    I glance up at the calendar.  Tomorrow marks three months since I was served the restraining order.  Three months since Willow took such drastic measures to keep me out of her life.   Three months that I’ve had to hold on to my explanations, to my apologies. I mean, my mother tried to kill her, for God’s sake.  It’s no wonder she wanted to steer clear of me.  But I can’t let her think that I had anything to do with it, or that I knowingly put her in danger.  My conscience demands that I explain.  My heart demands