Alice Dougherty repeated, sucking in a sharp, surprised breath. “Are you sure?” The teenage girl sitting across the desk from her wiped at the tears on her cheeks and nodded. “I went to the doctor.” Alice eased against her chair back and crossed her legs, working to hide her dismay and disappointment. Any overt sign of criticism and the teenager would bolt. And the fragile bond she’d struggled to form with Sheri Kane would be broken. She cleared her throat. “How far along are you?” The girl lifted her gaze to Alice’s, then dropped it to her lap once more. She twisted her fingers together. “Nine weeks.” Seventeen years old and nine weeks pregnant. Sympathy flooded Alice. She understood Sheri’s feelings only too well. She had found herself in the same position at nineteen. Alice cleared her throat again, fighting to maintain her professional distance, to keep herself from becoming emotional. A feat she found difficult with all the kids she worked with here at Hope House, but one she found particularly difficult with Sheri.
