Carry Her Heart Read Online Free Page A

help me, but even with their help, I was afraid I’d shortchange you.
But what if I gave you up, like Rose? When I asked myself that question, I could picture so many scenarios in which you had a wonderful, happy childhood and grew into an amazing young woman.
What would be best for you?
I knew the answer the first time I asked myself that question.
And on that August day, I held you for an hour and, like Rose, I hugged you and sent you into someone else’s care. I gave you to your parents. I called out, ‘Goodbye, Amanda,’ as they took you home to a better life than I could have given you.
A life that wouldn’t include me.
And as I cried, I knew just how hard Rose’s decision must have been. I’d loved you for nine months and held you for one hour. Rose had loved and held my grandfather for five years.
I gave the adoption agency a letter for you. I hope your parents gave it to you when they felt you were old enough.
I put Rose’s locket inside the envelope, hoping you’d realize that, like Rose, I loved you enough to send you away.
I hoped you’d know that you were loved.
Are loved.
Love,
Piper Rose

Sophomore Year

Chapter Three
    Another first day of school. It was hot for a school day. I was barefoot and wearing shorts and an old Les Mis T-shirt. I was drinking iced tea rather than hot tea.
    I’d spent most of my day on the porch working. But the words had dried up a while ago. I’d been just going through the motions.
    I glanced at the journal that was on the table next to me. I knew what I was going to write today.
Dear Amanda,
It’s another first day of school here. This morning I sat on the front porch and watched all the students across the street arrive, ready to start the school year. It was such a hot summer, and summer wasn’t ready to release its grip on Erie just because it was the first day of school.
There were some familiar faces in the swarm of children. They waved and called out “good-mornings,” or “hey-Ms.-Pips.” And as always there are new ones—kindergarteners and older transfer students.
As I write to you, it’s almost time for the dismissal bell. I know the children will all rush out, their first day over.
Only one hundred and seventy-nine more to go.
You’re a sophomore this year. You’ll hopefully be returning to the same school as last year. You’ll be greeting old friends and going to those first classes and discovering what they will be like this year.
I always loved the first day of school. There’s such a sense of possibility about it. Anything can happen.
I adored when the teachers handed out textbooks. When I was lucky, it was a brand-new one. I loved the creeeeek sound the binding made when you opened it for the first time. I loved the smell. I loved writing my name in the box—the first one to proclaim I used that particular book and the years I used it.
Years.
    I sat the journal on my lap and looked at the school across the street. Amanda had had ten first days of school.
    No, eleven if you counted kindergarten.
    More if she’d gone to preschool.
    I wondered if she liked school. I hoped so.
    I felt a wave of nostalgia for the moments that I’d never experienced with her and for all the talks we’d never had.
    I picked up the journal again. It was my opportunity to talk to Amanda. Maybe it was a one-way conversation, but that made it easier in a way.
     
So many have passed since I held you. I knew you for only nine months, held you for one short hour, and yet I’ve built my life around you.
So what story should I start the school year off with?
I haven’t told you about what I do.
I don’t do what I thought I’d do. Maybe that’s a lesson for you. Choose a path, but don’t be afraid to change directions.
You see, I went to college to be a nurse.
And at first, I thought I’d work L&D . . . labor and delivery. But I did an externship on the pediatric floor and loved it. That’s where I worked after I graduated. For a while, I thought I’d spend my