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Chapter 3

April

My forehead was probably wrinkled as I concentrated on my latest project. One of my resolutions for the year was to learn a new skill, and that was exactly what I was doing with a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. After two hours of online tutorials, I had convinced myself that I was finally ready to try it out.

"You're doing good sweetheart."

I stopped and looked up at my father, who looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. So much for some fatherly support. I couldn't even blame him, looking down at my tangled mess and admitting to myself that I probably needed another hour or two of tutorials. Or maybe a couple of weeks.

"Don't even start, dad. This is your Christmas present."

He gasped dramatically. "Really? And what exactly is that supposed to be?"

I looked at my masterpiece and smiled. "I'm not sure yet, but it will come to me."

"Sweetheart, if it hasn't come to you by now, I highly doubt it is going to work out."

He burst into laughter, and I smiled as I shook my head.

"You said I could do anything I put my mind to, and I could be anything I wanted."

He pretended to think. "Well, that was before you tried to knit, and bake, and…"

I held my hand up to stop him before he could continue, knowing the list would go on and on. I always tried to learn a new skill every year, and it had made for some very interesting stories over the years. It was good to see my father laugh like that; a real laugh that made the little creases around his mouth appear. I loved that laugh, and it was unfortunate I had heard so little of it since my mother passed away.

My mother's death had been hard on both of us, but my father had taken it particularly hard. I understood why though; he had lost a part of himself that could never be replaced. Mom had been his soulmate, and losing her had been devastating. There were no longer little notes on the fridge for him, no freshly baked goods on the table every morning, and that laugh of hers that filled the house was gone too. The little things were what hurt the most. The things we were both so used to but had never taken a moment to realize that they were present only because of her. It was a week after her death when I realized the fridge was empty, that I really knew she was gone. Mom was the one who always made sure we had what we needed. And I had seen my father break down in tears the day he took her last note off the fridge. There would be no more notes after that.

Death was funny like that. It didn't just kill a person, it killed a whole lot of other things too. It had certainly killed a part of my father, and to see him laugh like this was a treasure I thought I had lost forever. Welcome back home dad, I wanted to say. Judging by how he looked at me, I was sure he could read my mind.

"So what brought on this new hobby of yours? Spending too much time at home, are you?"

He stood next to me and eyed my hands suspiciously as if my knitting would just attack him any minute now.

"Knitting is not only for old people, you know. That's a very prejudiced opinion. But yes, sweet Mrs. McAllister inspired me. The woman makes a mean quilt, and it would make me very happy to be able to do something right."

I wasn't even joking, I truly wanted to properly learn some kind of skill. My mom had been amazing with her hands. She could do anything; hairdressing, sowing, gardening, and cooking; name it, and she could do it. Her genius at doing all those things was not hereditary, unfortunately. Or if it was, it would have been passed on to that second child she never had.

"You do plenty right, April," my father said softly before kissing my forehead. "You take care of me just fine."

When I wasn't trying to poison him with salted cupcakes, he forgot to add.

"And you were a natural when you first shifted. Took to running like you were born to do it."

"Thanks, dad. I'm sure you are bound by law to say that, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

"Yes, you are definitely spending too much time with old people.

You said 'nonetheless'!"

He laughed as I playfully glared at him, thankfully making his exit before he could insult me any further. I sighed as I turned to my disaster of a knitting attempt, thinking perhaps my father was right after all. I probably needed a new hobby.

I had been working odd jobs, one of which was being a weekend receptionist at the Saints Old People's Home. It didn't pay much, but it helped with the bills. The goal had always been to help around the house while saving money for college at the same time, which was easier said than done. I wasn't earning enough to have a lot of savings left over. And my father would never be able to afford to send me to college. He was in financial trouble, although he would never admit it out loud.

I wanted to study medicine and make something of myself, but I just wasn't making enough to help me achieve my dreams. I needed another job as soon as yesterday, and a job that paid well. The brightlycolored ball of yarn caught my attention again, and I smiled; I definitely wasn't going to make money selling my couture scarves and quilts. I stood and rolled the slack thread back onto the ball before slipping the knitting needles in the middle.

The table was a good storage place for now, and I promised myself that I would try again later as I picked up my phone instead. I switched on the television and set the volume low enough to allow me to concentrate on some job listings while providing just enough background noise to keep me going.

As usual, nothing on the listings was good enough. Especially for someone like me without any impressive qualifications. There were the obvious ones like waiting tables, dog walking, and housekeeping. Then a lot of temporary positions that were similar to the jobs I had now. After several more minutes of disappointment, I finally gave up and replaced my phone with the remote beside me.

"In other news, we are saying hello to more celebrity tiny tots, and it's a battle of the cutest as magazines try to get photos for their next issues," one of the presenters was saying as I raised the volume to some celebrity news show that was on.

"You are right, Rick, it is going to be an interesting week ahead of us, and we can't wait to see the first pictures of these newest celebrities in town," Rick's co-presenter added with a smile.

"Sources say Hailey Starr also welcomed twins this afternoon at a private hospital," Rick said with another smile that I was sure warmed many ladies hearts.

Just not mine because I liked my men tall, dark and lean. Not that I had vast experience in dating, but a girl could fantasize. The wavy blonde hairdo that presenter Rick had did nothing for me except to remind me of a shampoo commercial.

"Hmm, that Hailey sure likes to keep us on our toes. She was here last week and never mentioned anything about twins!"

The presenters both smiled as a picture of Hailey Starr was shown in the background.

"Sources say the babies, as well as the surrogate,  are doing well. And while Hailey has been open about her struggle with IVF and her final decision to use a surrogate, her husband has refused to give any other information about the birth, or the sex of the children." "For now," Rick added with a smirk.

"In other baby news, Layla Rose is reportedly looking into adoption from an African country..."

The presenter's voice became a distant noise as my mind wandered. Being a surrogate for a celebrity had to pay a lot, enough to get me started in med school. I could use that kind of money, and it seemed like an easy enough job. But I knew better; there was a lot involved in the process, and I wondered if I could really do something like that. It would take a physical and emotional sacrifice, the likes of which I had no experience with.

Could I really offer my body up for months like that, knowing I was carrying someone else's child?

"April!"

My dad's voice startled me, and I dropped the remote.

"Dad?"

"You should probably get started on dinner since you'll need about two or three tries."

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