Page 4 of The Sandbar saga

Her mom hugged her. Not a normal hug like she'd receive from her teacher on her birthday, but one of those hugs where her mom squeezed her upper arms with her hands, forcing her to lean backward and always left red marks on her arms.

"Behave, or you'll regret it," whispered her mom.

Flowery perfume filled her nostrils. Through her mother's heavily sprayed hair, she noticed a man standing at the side of the table.

She stiffened, and her mom let go of her, but not before grabbing her hand and dragging her forward to the table.

"Katie, this is Dr. Race Conner. Please, say hello to him." Her mother rushed to sit down.

Left alone at the side of the table, opposite the man, she eyed him carefully. He was quieter than the men her mother usually brought to dinner at the house. His dark, brown hair touched his shoulders. He was more unkempt than the other men her mom hung around, too. Though he wore a cream-colored dress shirt and black trousers, he skipped wearing a tie and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt past his elbows.

He had whiskers, darkening his jaw. Katie tilted her head, studying the shadow on his face. Her father had shaved every morning. When she was little, she would often hear the buzz from his shaver through the wall to her bathroom.

"Hello, Katie," said Dr. Conner in a low voice that was almost too quiet.

"Hello." She pulled out her chair and slipped onto the seat, putting her hands on her lap under the table.

Her mom pointed to her napkin, then put the cloth on her lap. "Betsy, please serve dinner."

Copying her mother's manners, she sat still. Adults hated hearing children talk, especially at dinner, she was used to sitting quietly.

Betsy, one of the three women who worked in the kitchen, brought in the plates, already fixed. The guest must be important, because her mother ordered steak and lobster to be served. On nights when her mother wasn't home, Katie ate in the kitchen. Usually, some form of chicken dinner. A lot of rice and chicken, noodles and chicken, vegetable medley and chicken.

She hated chicken.

The different offering made her stomach to growl. She picked up her fork.

"Do you go to Langly, Katie?" asked Dr. Conner.

She nodded, picking up the sharp knife at the side of her plate. Her hunger overrode the need to look to her mother to see if she was supposed to reply. It was a yes or no kind of question.

"Katie, answer Dr. Conner," said her mother.

Dr. Conner cleared his throat. "She did."

She glanced up, surprised that he would stand up for her. The doctor continued to cut his steak, giving her a chance to look at him without him seeing.

He hadn't picked up his wine glass. The amber fluid went halfway up the glass where she knew Ann, the cook's helper, always filled to a pretend line. While Dr. Conner concentrated on eating, it took his attention away from her mother.

She glanced at the head of the table. Her mother pouted, barely touching her food. She twirled the stem of her wine glass in her hand and pressed her back against the chair.

Katie lifted a piece of steak to her mouth. She knew to hurry, or her mom would order her away from the table before she finished.

Several minutes later, the internal warning making her stomach hurt signaled that the mood had shifted when she picked up her fork to tear apart the lobster tail. She looked up, glancing from her mother to the doctor. The hair on her arms cautioned her not to make a move.

Instead of waiting for her mom to drop a bomb of an announcement, she looked at Dr. Conner, curious to know how he would react when her mom finally broke her silence. Would he put a stop to her mother if she got yelled at or sit there and let her mom send her to her room?

"Once school is out, Dr. Conner is going to come to the house on Tuesdays and Fridays at three o'clock. You must spend an hour with him." Her mother paused, narrowing her eyes. "I will be gone for the next month, and it'll be your responsibility to make sure you see him on those days. Ms. Gray will be here to remind you."

She sat up straighter. A month? "Where are you going?"

"I'm going on a much-needed vacation to a small island called Anegada. There's a lovely area there called Loblolly Bay, where I will get much rest and sunshine." Her mother sat forward and raised her brows. "Ms. Gray will—"

"No, mom. Please, let me watch myself this summer. You promised when I turned twelve years old, and...and I'm big enough to take care of myself. Betsy will be here, and I'll stay in the house. I won't go anywhere. Please—"

"You're too young." Her mother waved her hand in front of her as if shooing a fly. "You need supervision."

"But, Mother—"