Gennie took that moment to stab her sword at the ground and announce, “I’m bored as a motherfucker.”
To her credit, Shay had no reaction to Gennie’s outburst. She only blinked and glanced up at me.
“Imogen,” I snapped. “This is why they gave you the boot from summer school. We’ve been talking about this. You can’t—”
“But that’s how bored I am.” Turning to Shay, she grabbed her hand and said, “Can I show you the goats? They’re so funny.”
“I think,” she started with a glance toward me, “Noah’s trying to talk to you about that adult word you just used. What do you think about giving him your attention before we make plans to visit the goats?”
Gennie bobbed her head and turned to me with an expectant pout as if she’d endure the minor inconvenience of listening but only because Shay liked the idea too.
Now that I had an audience, I couldn’t remember the first thing about how to set limits with a rogue of a child. “You can’t use that word,” I said. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t use any variation of that word.”
Gennie dragged the toe of one of her sneakers in the dirt. With a shrug, she said, “I’ll try.”
I stared at her for a long moment. I knew that promise was as flimsy as they came and she wanted nothing more than to end this conversation and introduce Shay to our goats. I knew she was already halfway in love with Shay.
That was how it went with Shay. One minute of gazing into those feline eyes and it was all over.
If I was smart, I’d end this now. I’d start Gennie on her chores and send Shay on her way.
But I wasn’t smart when it came to Shay. I’d never been smart.
“I’d like you to do more than try,” I said. “And Shay is not your prisoner, Gen. She probably has things to do”—I cut a glance toward the last woman on earth I expected to find on my land today—“or something like that.”
Gennie stamped her foot once. “I promise I won’t use the m-word for the rest of the day.” Beaming up at Shay, all trace of rebellion gone, she asked, “Do you want to see the goats or do you have things to do?”
With a shrug, Shay replied, “I could meet a goat.”
Gennie grabbed her hand and damn near sprinted down the path between the greenhouses. I followed at a more measured pace, watching them laugh together and listening in as Gennie introduced Shay to the farm.
“I’m not allowed in that field,” Gennie said, pointing her sword toward the white boxes in the distance. “It’s for the bees and Noah says bees are too busy making honey to be nice to me.”
“He’s right about that,” Shay said, tossing a smile over her shoulder.
Shay had always had one of those faces meant for smiling. Not every face was meant for smiling but Shay’s was one of them. The corners of her lips were always tipped up as if she was waiting for a reason to smile.
And when she aimed those smiles in my direction…well, the adolescent version of me had lived and died by those smiles.
I stared out at the bees. I wanted a few of them to come sting some sense into me.
“That’s the greenhouse Noah uses for his secret projects,” Gennie said, sword angled toward the glass building set apart from the other hothouses. “I’m not allowed in there.”
“No one’s allowed in there,” I called. “And they’re not secret projects. They’re just things I don’t want anyone interfering with until they’re ready.”
“Sounds like a secret project,” Shay teased.
They jogged down a gentle hill, still hand in hand, crossing into land formerly belonging to the McIntyres. It was quiet down here, insulated by trees from the wind that screamed in from the bay. The goats seemed to like it well enough.
“And that one, with the big white dot near her eye, is Dottie. I named her Dottie. Because of the big dot,” Gennie explained.
“Makes sense,” Shay said.
She glanced back at me, several paces removed from the enclosure and my arms folded over my chest as if I could fortify myself against this woman. I stared off into the distance.
“People come here and do yoga with the goats,” Gennie continued. “Someone always screams when a goat climbs on them.”
“Goat yoga,” Shay said. “Wow. This place has really changed.”
