Okay, so this is the first story I’ve ever written, and I’d appreciate it if you could comment on it.

Critique is nice, too ;)

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She hated her life. Everything about it.

She hated the tiny apartment she owned at the northern coast of Cozumel. She hated the old furniture in it she'd never liked and wasn't able to sell. She hated her stupid boyfriend Carlos for cheating on her with a girl barely out of her teens.

But most of all, she hated her mother, for cowardly deserting her and leaving her with a mountain of debts. No matter what she'd done wrong in life, she didn't deserve that. She'd cared for her mother ever since she'd started to drink herself half-dead, even more when she'd had a heart attack and couldn't manage to live on her own. She'd delayed going to college and studying oceanography - as it had been her dream since she'd been ten years old - and had helped her mother in every way she could've done. Never once had she accused her for ruining her life, and what did she get back? A whole legacy of debt she was forced to pay with the money she'd saved to pay for her tuition. It wasn't even enough, because she'd used up some for medical bills and such. It just wasn't fair.

Her life sucked to hell. She didn't have any money - nothing worth stealing either. She didn't have any family, because she'd been raised by her mother only. She didn't have any real friends, except Miguel and Luisa, who wasn't always around to listen to her complaints. She didn't have a boyfriend.

Leona scowled. She'd known Carlos was no good. Luisa had told her several times, but she hadn't listened. But she'd never thought he would actually cheat on her. Well, how stupid. She didn't even know why she kept on falling for the wrong guys. It had always been the same. Some nice young fella showing up, sweet-talking her and ultimately dumping her for either another girl or a job in another country or just because he got bored. This was - what, the twelfth time? She just didn't get it.

If it wasn't for her job as a diving instructor, she'd probably have killed herself by now. She loved diving ever since her mother had taken her to a diving club when she was about nine years old. The ocean, the water was like a haven to her that no one else could offer or had ever offered, a place she could dream to be a part of, a place where it didn't matter if she didn't have any money.

With a sigh, she leaned back in her armchair. It was so damn hard to get through all her mother's belongings. It'd been two weeks since she'd passed away and she still hadn't gotten through all the papers and clothings and whatever else there was. She took a sip of her coffee, then leaned back again and closed her eyes for a while.

Her mind drifted off to her daily fantasy. She was sitting at the beach somewhere, looking out at the sunset. Suddenly, arms were around her, pulling her tight against a broad and hard chest. His lips dropped to her shoulder, lightly kissing it. She didn't turn around, because she'd realized a while ago she wouldn't see his face even if she did. But she smiled and let him help her to get up. Together they took a walk at the beach, the water wetting their feet, and then he led her to a little cottage-like house. Home.

She opened her eyes. Like that's gonna happen, she thought. She'd first have to find someone who truly loved her and wouldn't dump her for neither another woman nor a job or anything in the world. She'd first had to stop dating the wrong guys. Maybe she should stop dating altogether, since it hadn't been that great anyways.

Shaking her head, she scanned through some other papers and put them into the box she'd decided to store them in. A small book caught her attention. It looked like a diary but as far as she knew, her mother hadn't had a diary or had written in one.

The first entry had been written on December 1981. It said:

»I don't know what to do. This can't be happening! Not to me, not now ... It was the first time I decided to sleep with someone I hardly know, and - surprise - now I'm pregnant! I can't take care of a baby. I don't have enough money or someone who could support me. He probably doesn't even want it ... What should I do?«

Confused, she reread the entry twice, but the words stayed the same. Evidently, her mother had slept with a stranger and gotten pregnant without wanting to. If she'd counted right, the unwanted baby had been her. That meant ... would her father's name or even address be in there?

She'd never met him. Or at least she didn't remember. But then, she'd never needed him, anyways;her mother had been her whole family, her idol and best friend - until she'd started drinking. Her mother hadn't ever talked about him, and she'd never asked. But now ... maybe this was the time to start over, to meet her father and get to know him ...

Yeah, right. I go look for him exactly now, when I have to pay more than a couple of thousand bucks. Sure. And of course, if he learns the truth, he'll be so glad I came and kick me out.

It wasn't a crime to want to meet her father, though, right? She could at least, like, call him up and ask her if maybe he wanted to see her.

You don't even know his name, idiot!

She started to scan through the pages, looking for a male name. On August 30, 1982, two days after her birth, her mother had written:

»He just left. I can't believe that he really left. I saw him with his little girl; he'd looked so proud and happy. Everything had been great - we'd talked about moving together, to be a real family: Jeffrey, Beth and Leona Williams. Why did we have to fight? Why did we both have to get so mad we didn't know we've hurt the other?«

Jeffrey Williams. No matter how hard she searched, this was the only thing she'd found out about him. Jeffrey was a really common name in the U.S. It would take weeks or months to call each Jeffrey listed in the phone book - and she wasn't even sure he was listed. Besides, it was possible that he didn't live in the U.S. He could be living in Australia, or Europe - hell, even in some godforsaken dump in the middle of nowhere. He could even be dead, since she didn't know how old he'd been 25 years ago.

There wasn't any number or address in her mother's diary, either, and she didn't have the money to hire someone to look for him.

She'd come so close to find out who her father was, and maybe to get one half of the family she'd always wanted ... Just when she was about to frustratedly throw the book back in the box, a small slip of paper fell onto the floor. She stooped to pick it up, and stared at it, dumbstruck. There was a number written on it. There was a chance she held her father's number in her hands.

On second thought, though, she couldn't just call him up and say: 'Hi, Dad! I'm your daughter!' And if he found out about her financial situation, he'd probably think she was an opportunist and throw her out ...

Maybe she should just think about it for a few days and decide then.

---

Jeff had just gone outside to help Annie with some planting when the phone rang. Cade kept sipping his coffee in Jeff's living room and thought, the caller just had to call back later. But evidently, it was a pretty insistent one, because the ringing didn't stop.

Irritated, he walked up to the phone on the coffeetable and picked up. "Yeah?"

There was a short silence, then a female voice hesitantly asked, "Uhm ... is Jeffrey there?"

A very nice and sweet female voice. He didn't think she was older than 28. Her voice sounded much too soft. "Well ... Jeffrey what, exactly?"

"I think it's ... uhm, Jeffrey Williams."

"Sure, honey, he lives here."

On the other end of the line, Leona frowned. She was a nervous wreck, and he seemed to be teasing her. He didn't sound like her father, either. Except if he was, like, in his thirties or forties. Which she didn't think he was. Who was she talking to, anyways? He had to be a really weird person, or else a womanizer, calling her 'honey' after less than a minute.

"Is he there?"

"Why do you want to talk to him?", she was asked in return.

Her frown deepened. Who the hell was he?

Cade looked up when Jeff came back, his hands and jeans streaked with mud.

"Who are you talking to?", Jeff asked.

"No idea. A girlie wants to talk to you."

"Who are you talking to?", the female asked.

"Jeff."

Leona's heart started to beat frantically. He was there. It had been the right number. She'd been worried she had the wrong number when nobody had picked up, and especially since she'd talked with that weirdo.

"Could you ask him something?"

Cade smiled. "Sure thing."

"Could you ask him if he knows someone called Beth Clayton?"

She heard some mumbling, then he was back on the phone. "Yeah, he does. Who are you?"

"I'm ..." He heard her let out a shaky breath. Then she said, "My name is Leona Clayton. I'm his daughter."