Leap of Faith by Jamie Blair Read Free Book Online Page A

face scrunches up and she yawns, letting out the smallest sigh. “Yeah,” I say. “I can make it out there today.”
    • • •
    I slow the car, searching house numbers for 356 Maple Street. The neighborhood is like something out of a movie: tree-lined streets, sidewalks, and picket fences. Nothing bad could ever happen here. It’s a place where wishes and prayers could actually come true. This is what Addy deserves.
    My eyes spot the address I’m searching for on a green plastic mailbox. “Here it is,” I whisper to Addy. “Cross your fingers.” The rear tires bump over the curb as I turn the car into the short driveway, which leads to a two-car garage. The house is a tidy, white cape cod with a black door and shutters. Dark green awnings shade the windows, making the house look like it has droopy, tired eyes.
    My hand grips the gearshift, and I put the car in park. I’m clenching my stomach so tightly, I feel like I might pass out. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, holding it for ten seconds, and then blow it out hard and fast. I do this a few more times and the dizziness subsides. “Okay, Add, let’s go.”
    The warm bundle of baby in my arms, pressed against my chest, is reality, security. She grounds me. She gives my feet purpose to stumble up the sidewalk and onto the front stoop without turning around and running back to the car.
    I open the screen door and knock.
    My heart beats so loudly, I can hear it pounding in my ears.
    I wait.
    There’s music inside, a faint strumming.
    I press the doorbell and listen to it chime.
    The strumming stops.
    Footsteps approach the door.
    I squeeze Addy closer. She whines.
    The door is tugged open.
    “Hey. Leah, right?” The boy standing in the doorway can’t be more than a few years older than me. He holds a guitar in the hand that’s not gripping the doorknob.
    I nod. I can’t speak.
    He stands back and gestures me inside. “My dad’s not here, but Aunt Ivy talked to him. He called to let me know you’d be stopping by.”
    I follow him through the family room with its golden-tan carpet and beige couch and love seat. A can of Coke sits on a coaster on the coffee table.
    “Room’s upstairs,” he says, and I notice the staircase between the family room and the kitchen, which has sunny yellow walls.
    I climb the stairs behind him. His jeans are worn and hang low on his hips. His T-shirt’s gray—the cotton would be soft to touch.
    At the top, he opens a door and steps inside. It’s one massive room. “Go ahead and look around,” he says, and plops down on a blue couch against the wall between two deep-set dormer windows. He tugs a rubber band and a guitar pick from his front pocket and holds the pick between his front teeth as he pulls his chin-length dirty-blond hair back into a stubby ponytail.
    There isn’t anywhere to go. But I turn toward a row of oak cabinets with a laminate countertop lining the back wall. There’s a tiny, bar-size sink and a minifridge. A small table with two chairs sits in front of them.
    “Couch pulls out to a bed,” he says.
    I run my hand over the counter and feel gritty dust on my fingers.
    The boy strums his guitar.
    Sun shines through the window over the sink.
    Addy wriggles and pops her arm out from under her, holding it up in the air.
    “What’s your baby’s name?” the boy asks over his guitar.
    “Addy.”
    “I’m Chris.” His eyes are blue-green. They’d be bluer or greener depending on what he wore. His gray shirt keeps them the in-between shade. He plays a few more chords and sets his guitar beside him on the couch. “Well? What do you think?”
    I glance around. There’s not much to it, but it works. “How much?”
    He rubs his chin. It’s covered in stubble. I imagine how it would feel against my cheek, and my face gets hot.
    Addy squirms and lets out a small shriek. Chris’s eyes dart to her. This could be the deal breaker.
    She squawks again. “What time is it?” I ask, realizing she’s