Free Dawn by V.C. Andrews

seemed to make her wake up, her eyes cleared, and she let my hand go.

"All right, Momma. I promise, but if you don't get better soon—"
    "I'll go to a fancy doctor, just like I promised I would. That's a new promise," she proclaimed and raised her hand like a witness taking the stand in a courtroom. I shook my head. She saw I didn't believe her. "I will. I will," she repeated and lowered herself back to the pillow. "You better feed the baby before she starts letting you know you're late with her food. She can holler something awful when she's a mind to."
    I hugged Fern to me and then took her out to feed her. Daddy and Jimmy returned and I whispered to Daddy that Momma was sicker than ever. A worried frown drew Daddy's dark brows together.
    "I'll go talk to her," he said. Jimmy looked in, too, and then returned. He just stood by quietly and watched me feed Fern. Whenever Jimmy was worried and frightened about Momma, he would become as silent and as still as a statue.
    "Momma's so pale and thin and weak, Jimmy," I said, "but she won't let me stay home from school to mind Fern."
    "Then I'll stay home," he said through his clenched teeth.

"That would make her even angrier and you know it, Jimmy."
    "Well, what are we going to do, then?"
    "Let's see if Daddy gets her to go to a doctor," I said.
    When he returned, he told us Momma had promised she would definitely go if the formula didn't work.
    "Stubbornness runs in her family," Daddy explained. "One time her daddy slept on his shack roof just so he could get this woodpecker that was peckin' away at the shingles every mornin'. Took him two days, but he wouldn't come of that roof."
    Daddy's stories had us all laughing again, but every once in a while I would look at Momma and then exchange a glance of worry with Jimmy. To me Momma looked like a wilting flower. I saw little things about her that filled my balloon of worry with more and more concern. I knew if it continued, I would burst into a panic.
     
    The next day Philip Cutler surprised me at my locker right before the homeroom bell rang.
    "Going to let me take you for a ride today?" he asked, whispering in my ear.
    I had thought about it all night. It would be the first time I had ever gone for a ride with a boy.
    "Where would we go?"
    "I know a spot on this hill that overlooks the James River. You can see for miles and miles. It's beautiful. I've never taken anyone there," he added, "because I haven't met anyone I thought would appreciate it like I do. Up until now, that is."
    I looked into his soft blue eyes. I wanted to go, but my heart felt funny, as if I were betraying someone. He saw the hesitation in my face.
    "Sometimes you just sense things," he said. "I wouldn't ask any of these other girls because they're so spoiled they wouldn't be satisfied just looking at nature or scenery. They'd want me to take them to a fancy restaurant or something. Not that I don't want to take you to one," he added quickly. "It's just that 1 thought you might appreciate this the way I do."
    I nodded slowly. What was I doing? I couldn't just go off with him without asking Daddy first, and I had to get back home to help Momma with Fern. And what if Jimmy was right and this was all some sort of secret prank engineered by Philip's sister and her friends?
    "I've got to be home early enough to help Momma with dinner," I said.

"No problem. It's only a few minutes from here. Is it a date? I'll meet you in the lobby just after the bell rings."
    "I don't know."
    "We'd better start for class," he said, taking my books in his arms. "Come on, I'll walk you."
    As the two of us walked side by side down the corridor, we turned a number of heads. His friends all smiled and said hello to me. At my homeroom doorway he handed me my books.
    "So?" he asked.
    "I don't know. I'll see," I said. He laughed and shook his head.
    "I'm not asking you to marry me. Not yet anyway," he added. My heart fluttered and I felt as though Philip had been able to read my every