Free A Heartbeat Away by Eleanor Jones

declared. “I do believe you’re right.”
    â€œWhy does she do that?” I asked. “Why doesn’t she stay with me?”
    I watched Mrs. Brown’s smooth forehead crinkle into tiny lines and she looked me straight in the eye. “Maybe she does it to hide away from the things she can’t face,” she said quietly. “And we have to help her to get well again.”
    â€œI won’t ever hide like that,” I told her, and she smiled, nodding gently.
    â€œLet us hope you never have to, Lucy,” she said.
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    After I waved goodbye to Mrs. Brown and Daniel and gave Fudge one final pat, I went back into the living room and picked up the letter from my aunt Violet. Violet! I wondered if she would smell of violets the way Mrs. Brown did. She should have been called Violet. It would have suited her a whole lot better than “Edna.”
    I stared at the writing, but it was difficult for me to read, short upright strokes with thick, sure lines, placed on the paper with a heavy hand. I tried to imagine the person who wrote them, but as I struggled to decipher the words, the front door banged and my dad’s voice floated through from the hallway.
    â€œLucy!” he yelled. “Lucy! Where are you girl?”
    What would he think of me having an aunt Violet? I wondered, dropping the letter onto the table and glancing uneasily up at my mom. But I needn’t have worried, for she just sat mumbling. With a resigned sigh, I begged her to be quiet—my dad hated her to mumble like that and I didn’t want her to make him cross today, after the letters and everything.
    He came in, however, with a smile on his handsome face and a twinkle in his vivid blue eyes.
    â€œLucy, your father’s had a bit of luck and he’s going away to make his fortune,” he announced, twirling me. “So you will have to keep an eye on your mom for while.”
    â€œGoing away?”
    I regarded him vacantly.
    â€œGoing away to where the sun always shines and there is money for the taking.”
    â€œIs it because of the letters?” I asked him, looking pointedly at the pile on the coffee table.
    A shadow fell across his face. “Letters?”
    â€œMy mom saw them this morning. The ones you usually burn.”
    â€œAh…”
    That was all he said, that one word, but I could tell by the guilt in his eyes that I had hit upon the truth.
    â€œI’m sorry, princess,” he said softly, cupping my cheek with a smooth hand. “I am afraid that I haven’t been the best dad to you. But, no matter.”
    His eyes brightened and he stood tall.
    â€œI’m sure that harridan Mrs. Brown will sort your mother out when I’ve gone. You’ll be better off without me. You’ll see.”
    I wanted to shout at him to stay, but I said nothing at all, just stood stock-still while he disappeared upstairs. Minutes later he was down again, with all his belongings in a black rucksack.
    â€œMary,” he said loudly, taking hold of my mom’s shoulder. She shook her head as if fighting off the demons that plagued her, before gazing up at him with alarm on her face.
    â€œI’m off, lass,” he told her. I thought there was a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Maybe I’ll be back when I’ve earned my fortune.”
    For a moment she simply stared at him, as if unable to determine her feelings, and when her faded eyes brimmed with tears, I knew just how she felt, for I felt the same way. Maybe there was more of my mom in me than I thought. I pushed that idea firmly out of my head and followed my dad to the kitchen.
    â€œTell your mother that I really am sorry for this, princess,” he instructed, dipping his fingers into the blue pot and drawing out a handful of notes with a theatrical flourish. “But I have more need of it than she, and of course you two do have the estimable Mrs. Brown to help you.”
    It was both that final