Free Second Chance Friends by Jennifer Scott

young, or—I don’t know—anything at all.” She pushed the glass away, exasperated, and leaned forward. “I can’t explain it, but I feel like when that crash happened, something happened to me. Or to us, maybe. The baby and me. Or, hell, I don’t know, maybe all of us.” She swirled her finger around to indicate herself, Joanna, and Karen. “A monthand a half ago, I’d never met you before, but here I am sitting with you now, acting like a crazy person. I’m not sure how to put it in words, exactly. It’s just like—”
    â€œIt connected us,” Joanna said for her.
    Melinda nodded. “In a sense, yeah.”
    Karen’s phone beeped and she jumped. She reached into her purse, checked the caller ID, seemed torn, but then pressed a button to silence it and dropped it back into her purse.
    â€œI thought you were waiting for that,” Joanna said.
    Karen waved her off. “She’ll call back,” she said, though her face seemed to say otherwise, and it occurred to Melinda that she didn’t know these two ladies at all. Not really. So why did she feel like she could crash in on them at the diner whenever she felt like it, plop down in a booth with them, and start talking crazy stuff about the Routh baby? Was it that Joanna was right—that they were somehow connected by the crash? Because, try as Melinda might to make this meeting appropriately uncomfortable or awkward . . . it just wasn’t.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to take you away from your phone call. I’m sure you have your own stuff to worry about, without me bringing up the crash over and over again.”
    Karen shook her head. “But it’s not as if I wouldn’t think about it if you didn’t bring it up. I’m the one who’s here every day, remember? And, yes, I have my own stuff. A lot of stuff. But this is important. I think I understand what you’re saying about that baby. I feel it, too.”
    Joanna pushed her barely touched plate away from her. “I do, too,” she said. “But what are we going to do about it? It’s not like we can find Maddie Routh and just demand to know how the pregnancy is going.”
    Melinda leaned back against the booth, chewing her upper lip. Karen hoisted her chin up with her palm and looked out the window again. Joanna picked up her fork and idly swirled it through the gravy on her plate. Time ticked by, and even the waitress seemed to hover, but not interrupt.
    â€œWell, why can’t we?” Melinda finally asked. “Really. Why can’t we look her up? It can’t be that hard to find her. We know her first and last name.”
    â€œWhat if she’s had her number made private after the crash?” Joanna asked.
    â€œThen we’ll have to look harder. We’ll ask around.”
    â€œAnd then we just show up?” Karen asked, though it didn’t sound like she was arguing.
    Melinda shrugged. “Why not?”
    â€œIt’s not like we want to hurt her,” Joanna said.
    â€œNo,” Melinda agreed. “We want to help her. Don’t we? Or am I just being selfish?”
    â€œOf course we do,” Karen said. “I’m sure she could use some help, with Michael being gone.”
    â€œAnd if she’s offended or whatever, we’ll just go away. We’ll see that she’s all right, and then we’ll leave her alone.”
    â€œYes, definitely,” Karen said, pointing at Joanna. “I think it’s really important that we give her the right to privacy. She’s still mourning.”
    â€œOf course,” Melinda said.
    Karen’s phone rang again. She grabbed it and checked the ID. “I should probably take it this time,” she said. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow?”
    Melinda and Joanna both nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” Joanna said.
    Karen scooted