Portia obviously knew something about the house and the people in it that I didn’t until they opened the door, because my princess pig had stayed in the trees, not following me onto their property.She fell in line beside me as I trudged back through the bushes, both my knees on fire.It was lighter out now, and I could see the barn in the distance.Piñata’s figure had stopped running, and he stood in the field beside the fence he liked to destroy, chewing on grass.
“Would you eat him?”I asked Portia as we broke free of the trees.“I can’t.But if you would, then I’d consider calling the abattoir.”
She glanced up at me and grunted, which I couldn’t determine was a yes or a no.
We reached Piñata, who just stood there watching us approach like the last ten minutes hadn’t just happened.“Get in the barn,” I told him in Italian.“Now!”
Maybe he thought it was me who smacked his ass with the shoehorn, but either way, he actually obeyed for the first time ever and trotted toward the barn.Then, he waited for me to open the door properly and let him in.I quickly grabbed some spare plywood I had lying around, my screwdriver and some screws, and patched the hole he had made in the barn until I could mend it properly.
“I haven’t even had my fucking coffee this morning, youtesta di cazzo.”Which was “dickhead” in Italian.Just so he knew I was pissed, I gave the other donkeys and the miniature horses some attention and treats, but deliberately didn’t even look in Piñata’s direction, let alone give him some treats.Maybe he’d react negatively because of it and kick another hole in the barn, or maybe he’d behave.I honestly had no clue.What I did know though, was that I needed some fucking breakfast and a coffee; otherwise, I was going to take that donkey over to the principal’s house, and leave him there.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Danica
ThemomentSamgothome from school, she asked if we could go see Midnight.
Who was I to argue?I wanted to go just as badly as she did.Though, it had less to do with the baby horse, and more to do with the man who cared for the baby horse.
I tried reaching out to Clyde’s parents, but my text messages and calls went unanswered.It was Friday, so I would wait to hear what Cheryl had to say about her sit-down with Mr.and Mrs.Whalley and whether it gave her any hope.I wasn’t going to let this slide, but I also didn’t want to make things worse for my kid.I needed to play by the rules … for now.
When we pulled onto Tom’s property, I tossed on the brakes in surprise, causing both of us to lurch forward in our seats and the belts to engage.At least we knew they worked.
There were three parked cars in front of the barn.Two I recognized.
Jolene Dandy’s champagne-beige Ford Focus and Karen Ribko’s silver Hyundai Santa Fe, along with a navy-blue Toyota Corolla.
“That’s weird,” I mused to Sam as I kept my speed to a crawl and parked beside the Corolla.
“Yeah.I didn’t think Tom wanted people coming to his place.”
“Neither did I.”Worry spun through me like sugar in a cotton candy machine, building and getting stickier.We made our way to the barn door, and I held it open for Sam.Voices echoed down through the long, high-ceilinged building; the shrill laugh of Jolene made my eye twitch.
“Oh, Tommaso, why have you kept this place such a secret?And all these beautiful creatures.You could make so much money from tourists.You simply must let us put something about your animals in the next island newsletter,” Jolene went on.
“No, thank you,” Tom said softly before poking his head out of Midnight’s stall, seeing us and instantly smiling.Relief filled his eyes.He turned back to Jolene, Karen, and whoever else was with them inside the stall.“I like my privacy.I do not need tourist money.”
“Yes, but you must share this wonderful place with others.It’s the island way, you know?”Jolene pressed on.
“I have been here a few years now, and while it might be ‘the island way,’ it is notmyway.I like my privacy.These are all rescue animals.They deserve peace.”
We reached the open door of the stall, where four women blinked back at us.Jolene, Karen, Brenda Pickford—Otto Pickford’s wife—and a woman I didn’t recognize.Though, by the looks of things, she’d bitten into the sourest lemon in the world and her face decided to stay that way.
“Hello,” I said softly.
Brenda instantly eyed me in a way that made me shift uncomfortably.Like how dare I breathe the same air as her or something.
“Why are you here, Danica?”Jolene asked, intrigue glittering in her copper-brown eyes.
“I, uh …” I didn’t want to out Sam and her anxiety.“Tom and I are …”
Why the hell did you start the sentence that way?
I didn’t do well at all being put on the spot where I had to lie.I was a terrible liar.Always have been.
“Tom and you are …?”Jolene probed.
“We’re friends,” Tom finished for me.“Danica helped me with Midnight.She got goats’ milk from Fred Love when Midnight’s mother died.”
