“He did.Raven will be on the island today.She’s probably already there.”
The sadness in her hazel-green eyes almost made me drop the jar of peanut butter on my foot.Children should never have to feel the level of grief I knew she was feeling for AngelandMidnight.Because my kid was a deep feeler.A more empathic person, I’m not sure I’d ever met.Which was a blessing, considering the sociopathic monster who fathered her.
“That poor baby,” she practically whimpered, leaning over the sink so I could spoon a glob of peanut butter into the gum at the back of her head.“He must be so confused.”She sniffled a little, and her slender frame trembled.“Not even a day old and already an orphan.”
“He’s got a lot of people caring for him.You, me, Tom.Francesca will be there.So will Cameron.And Raven will be his adopted mother, at least for a little while.Then he can join the other horses and be a family with them.”
“I guess …”
I had to really work the peanut butter into the gum before it started to disintegrate from the peanut oil, then I rinsed it away.
“I’m going to go have a shower and wash my hair,” Sam said.“I won’t be able to get the smell of peanut butter out of it if I don’t.”
I didn’t argue with her and let her go, leaving me to go through her backpack and the muddy, wet contents.
Clyde Whalley needed to be stopped.What he really needed was a juvenile detention center and some parents with a backbone, but I didn’t have that kind of power.Clearly, Sam’s teacher wasn’t doing enough to stop the little hellion.Maybe I needed to speak to his parents again.Appeal to them as one parent to another.Not point the finger, not place blame, but offer to work together to solve the issues between our children.
I huffed a mirthless laugh at that notion as I sprayed stain remover on Sam’s turquoise and white daisy-covered lunch kit.The last time I tried to talk to Avelyn Whalley, she told me my daughter needed to grow a thicker skin, and that adults were meaner than kids.So while I didn’t hold much hope for my conversation with them, I had to try.
For my kid, I’d do anything, even try to reason with the devil’s parents.
The rain had started up again, as was typical with the spring, but luckily, the wind decided to take the day off.My wipers were on normal speed as we drove across the island toward Tom’s, my stomach in tight knots at the thought of getting to see him again.
Unlike Gabrielle, who thought her physiological reactions like hot flashes and throbbing in certain areas to Maverick were perimenopause symptoms and not attraction, I knew better.I was attracted to Tom.Immensely, attracted to him.But I’d never had a boyfriend, never been on a date, never even kissed or slept with another man besides my waste-of-skin husband.And he sure as hell never took me on a date.He asked my father if he could marry me.My father said yes.And that was it.No courting.No wooing.Not even a bouquet of freaking flowers.Not that I expected anything like that growing up in such an oppressive, chauvinistic community.Women were merely appendages to their fathers or husbands.We had no rights.No bodily autonomy.
I wasn’t sure if it was worse that IknewI was attracted to Tom or not though.Maybe Gabrielle’s adorable ignorance was easier—until it wasn’t and she had to admit she liked a man fifteen years younger than her.
How old was Tom?
He had more salt than pepper in his hair, and some of the lines on his face were more than fine, but he was still incredibly handsome.
Was he fifty?
I was terrible at gauging age.I was thirty-two, and some days I felt twenty; other days I felt forty.
Tom’s driveway came into view, and I slowed down, my mind going in a million different directions as I turned the corner and the gravel crunched under my tires.His driveway had several potholes, which had now filled with water to create murky, brown puddles.I slowed down even more to not splash them everywhere.
Cameron Arendelle’s pickup truck was parked in front of the barn, and all the horses, ponies, and donkeys were out in the field, not seeming to mind the rain at all.
I pulled up beside Cameron’s truck, and made to get out, but paused with my hand on the door handle.Sam sat stock-still in her seat staring straight ahead, unblinking.
Uh-oh.
I released the handle and squeezed her arm through her plum-colored rain jacket.“What’s wrong?”
“Does … does Cameron know why I’m coming here?That I’m like Francesca?”
I nodded softly.“He does.He’s the one who suggested it.But he has a daughter with similar …” I wracked my brain for a word that wasn’t “issues.”Because Sam didn’t haveissues, she experienced anxiety, and low self-esteem.“Francesca struggles with anxiety as well, sweetheart.That’s why she’s here.The animals help her too.”
She clenched her molars until a muscle in her jaw jiggled.“You’re sure they’re not going to look at me like some freak?”
“I’m positive.”
She didn’t seem convinced, but she reached for the handle on the passenger door and opened it.I let go of her arm and met her around the front of the RAV.Together, we entered the barn, where Portia met us, articulating an enthusiastic flurry of grunts and some serious curly-tail wags.
Giggling, Sam bent down and scratched behind the pig’s ears.“Hello, Portia.”
A head popped out from the stall at the far end of the barn, but it wasn’t Tom’s.
