Thirteen
Catching her reflection in the rear-view mirror, Melissa saw a hawk’s beak leaning into the windshield, grimly ferocious, a predator pursuing prey, a reminder her mother would soon be home. If her physical attributes were mainly from Charlie, this train-barrelling-down-the-tracks determined expression was pure Jill. Her admiration for her mother’s autonomy was lopsided, pulled askew by her hatred of what had caused it. A woman alone, independently raising a child and operating a business, how bold, how kick-a*s! But a man running away from his family and responsibilities was craven, and even after a dozen years, Melissa didn’t want to believe it of her father.
Thinking of the ruined beehives, she gritted her teeth. Her plan was for Jill to find, on her return, not merely the sam
