Free Sasha’s Dad by Geri Krotow Page A

four years.
    Dutch.
    Claire ignored the voice that told her she was crazy for going anywhere near Dutch or Sasha.
    She’d been Natalie’s best friend for most of their lives—at least until Dutch had connected with Natalie. Claire could share her early history with Sasha, fill in some details about her mother….
    “What did my mom want to be when she was my age? Do you remember?”
    “Let me think.” Claire blew on her hot chocolate. “When we were younger, in third or fourth grade, she wanted to be a nurse. She’d read about Florence Nightingale in Social Studies and because she liked the smell of brand-new Band-Aids she figured it was the job for her. Then she read Nancy Drew— ”
    “And wanted to be a detective?” Sasha obviously knew Carolyn Keene’s heroine.
    “Yes, of course!” When Claire laughed, Sasha let out a giggle, and they exchanged a glance that reminded Claire of the joie de vivre she and Natalie had shared for their entire childhood. Until Tom’s death. And Dutch’s betrayal.
    Claire’s laughter died. Until recently, she’d blamed Dutch for their breakup. But they’d been kids, teenagers, and she’d been so focused on getting out of Dovetail… Maybe she’d played a bigger part than she’d realized.
    Maybe you never forgave Natalie for not understanding your pain.
    That sudden insight brought a stab of guilt.
    Sasha stared at her. Could she read Claire’s mind?
    “Why don’t we knit for a while? Did you bring yours?”
    Sasha hauled her backpack onto her lap. “Yeah, I’ve got a scarf I’m making for my friend Maddie.”
    They each put down their hot chocolate and started to knit. Claire admired how natural it was for Sasha. The needles still felt rather foreign in her own hands, especially when she was working on a new stitch.
    “Claire?”
    “Hmm?” Claire looked up from her knitting.
    Sasha had a somberness in her eyes that Claire suspected she’d better get used to. It always preceded a doozy of a question.
    “Why didn’t you ever come to see my mother?”
    Claire’s hand jerked and she lost her stitch. The lush wool fell from her fingers.
    She took a deep breath and lowered her hands to her lap, forcing them to be still. Sasha deserved her complete attention.
    “It’s not that I didn’t want to. It just…got too difficult. Between my job, your mom’s job and family life, it was almost impossible to schedule any visits. Your mom didn’t have time to come into D.C. very much, and I couldn’t take time off to drive out here.”
    Claire knew she owed Sasha more than such an ambiguous reply. “Sometimes adults let distractions get in the way of doing what’s right,” she finally said.
    “What kind of distractions did you have?” Looking into Sasha’s brown eyes, Claire felt as if she’d been convicted. She tried to explain, anyway.
    “Well, I was working in the press corps—the group of reporters who follow the president all over the world. We were in the midst of one crisis after another, and I had to stay on top of every story.”
    “But weren’t you one of lots of people who reported about the president?”
    “Yes, I was one of many reporters, actually. But everyone thinks they’re the most valuable—that the story won’t get told properly without them. I believed that, just like everyone else, I’m afraid.”
    “You never got a day off?”
    “Not really.” She looked at Sasha and wondered what was going on behind that clear, open gaze. “But that’s not the point, Sasha. I realize now that I could have, should have, made time to see your mom, especially when she was sick. My last visit, you were in full-day school already. Before that, I hadn’t seen you since you were an infant.”
    Claire remembered Natalie’s baby shower all too clearly. The baby, Sasha, had arrived two weeks early and so the shower had taken place after the birth instead of the week before.
    It had been a nightmare for Claire. She’d been the only unmarried woman