I look back at the girls, my heart crumbling. “Jesus Christ, Savannah.”
“I know,” she whispers, her own tears forming. She shakes her head. “How can a mother do that to a child?”
“I don’t know.”
Savannah begins to pace. “Someone needs to call social services on that woman. Or child protective services, whatever it is you call it here. Someone needs to call them.Did you see the boy?” She stops pacing to stare at me, her eyes wild and distraught. “He’s a child. Afucking child,Daisy. He shouldn’t be looking after a three-year-old. Did you see him? He looked hungry. And tired. Who are their parents?Whereare their parents?”
“I don’t know,” I answer again, watching my friend spiral before my very eyes.
“I’m going to find out.” She pauses. “But first, I’m going to find some of Reigns old clothes and redress that little girl. And then I’m going to cook dinner for them. Yep. I’ll do that first and then I will find out who they are.”
I take a step forward and place a hand on her shoulder, halting her erratic movements. “Sav, stop.”
“I can’t. Did you not see the state of them?” She gestures wildly to the door.
“Yes,” I say in a calm tone despite the storm of emotions eating me up on the inside. “But you need to calm down. You can’t go out there like this. And you can’t go storming into their lives all guns blazing without knowing more about them first.”
She nods, her breathing slowing a touch. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” One fat tear rolls down her cheek. “He’s so young, Daisy.”
“I think Killian told me he’s around nineteen, maybe twenty, I can’t remember. He isn’t as young as he looks, but I do agree that he shouldn’t have that kind of responsibility on his shoulders. So how about you go and find some of Reigns old clothes and I will keep them occupied. And when you’re done, we will talk more. I’m not needed up at the barn for a while, so I have time.”
Savannah lets out a long breath. “Okay.”
When she leaves the room, I walk over to the sink, pour myself a glass of water and chug the whole thing in one as I attempt to calm my racing heart and find some semblance of composure before I go back to the kids.
The slight shake in my hand betrays me and I take a seat at the island, giving myself a minute.
I made peace with the fact that I will never get the opportunity to have children of my own a long time ago. That I’ll never experience the joy of seeing a positive pregnancy test or get to watch my stomach grow with new life. To have those special moment where we share our news with our respective families. Plan gender reveals, and baby showers. I’ll never hold a tiny onesie to my swollen belly and try to imagine what my baby will look like wearing it.
It took a long time to come to terms with that fact, but I accepted it.
But every now and then, something happens.
I will be in the supermarket and see a couple in the baby aisle, holding up a pair of tiny, pink pyjamas. A woman grabbing different brands of pregnancy tests off the shelves and adding them to her basket while trying to be inconspicuous about it. I’ll see a mother and father laughing as they swing their little boy between them as they walk through town. And every single time, another piece of my heart will break, my eyes will well, and I will ask,why me?
Why did it have to beme?
Why don’tIdeserve to have that?
Why didmybody have to fail me?
And then there are moments like today. When I look at a child like Juliet. A boy like Jaxon. And I see two products of a woman who didn’t deserve to have children.
And all I see is rage.
I feel betrayal.
Because Ineverwould have treated my child that way.
But the universe decided I didn’t deserve the opportunity to prove that.
In what fucked up reality is it okay to allow a woman, or a man, to reproduce just to abandon? To bring life into the world, but not nurture it? To cause an innocent human being – that they created – so much pain and suffering?
Where is the fucking logic in that?
Thejustice?
Howis that fair?
