* * *
While Isabelle changes clothes,Andi runs upstairs and changes into her everyday clothes, the ones she wears on the farm. She saves her nicer things for school. While that goes on, I fix a snack for both Andi and Isabelle—nothing fancy, just some grapes, apples, and string cheese. I do my best to make sure my daughter eats healthy. Sure, we’ve got chips and cookies lying around, but those are treats. Andi knows she’s got to eat the good stuff before she gets sweets.
Andi’s clothes are changed and she’s back down sitting at one of the stools in front of the kitchen island.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“Starving. Lunch was gross today.”
“Oh? What was it?”
“Fish sticks,” Isabelle says, stepping into the kitchen. Her nose is all scrunched up, and it’s fucking adorable. “Itwasa gross lunch.”
I watch her as she walks into my kitchen wearing the tightest fucking pair of workout pants I’ve ever seen. She’s got them paired with a plain, black, V-neck tee that should be outlawed everywhere but inside my house because it’s hugging everything. And I meaneverything. Not only that, but written across her tits in hot pink are the words “Girl Power.” I know what it’s supposed to mean, and I believe in the sentiment. I want my daughter to know she can do whatever the fuck she wants to do. But when I see that on Isabelle’s chest, it seems to be saying to me thatthatgirl has all the power. Over me.
Suddenly, my mouth is dry as a bone, and my dick’s doing something it probably shouldn’t. Shit. This was a bad idea. No matter what I said to myself earlier, Isabelle and me, we’re a terrible idea, and I’ll tell you why. For one, Isaac would literally kill me. He’d drive over here from Omaha and beat the living hell out of me. He told me as much at his wedding. He saw my reaction to his baby sister and pulled me aside. I’ll never forget the look on his face. I wouldn’t call it anger, but there was definitely intensity. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You will not fuck my little sister.”
I was slightly offended. I mean, sure, I wanted to fuck Isabelle, still do, but that wasn’t the only thing I want to do with her. No matter, Isaac would never understand, and he’d never approve. He’s my best friend, for shit’s sake. He stood by me when everything was falling apart around me. I can’t and I won’t jeopardize that friendship—not for something I’m sure would end badly. Because that’s what relationships are like for me. They end badly. So, no. I’ve got to stick to the plan and be the biggest asshole I can be when it comes to Isabelle Harmon. It’s for the best.
“See, Daddy? Even Izzy says lunch was awful.”
I realize my mind was on other things. “Well, hopefully this little snack will help you girls with your hunger pangs.” I smile, sliding the plate across the island. “Now, while you two do your reading and snacking, I need to get back to work.” And get the hell away from Isabelle. “When you’re done, Andi, you’ve still got chores.”
“I know, Daddy.” When Andi grumbles like that, it makes me laugh. So, I do.
“Wow, you laughed,” Isabelle says, looking shocked.
“Yeah?” I don’t think I’m going to like what she says next.
“Rumor is—”
I hold my hand up. “Fu—” I pause. I try not to cuss in front of my daughter. “Screw the rumors.” I feel anger rush through my body. Maybe being an asshole isn’t going to be as hard as I thought. “If you’re here to get gossip for those jackals at school, you can leave right now. This isourhome.” I point to Andi then at myself. “If I can’t trust you here, then we’re not going to do this.”
“No, of course not.” Isabelle’s face reddens in an instant. She then stands from her stool and takes one step toward me but stops. “I wouldn’t. But if you don’t trust me, then I’ll go.”
“Daddy?” Andi whines. She’s not a whiner ordinarily. “Don’t be cranky; she didn’t mean anything by it.”
I stare at my child. I have an excuse for being cranky. Life. Life is enough to make anyone cranky, but me especially. And Andi. She’s got every right to be that way too, but she’s not. Well, in the morning she’s a bear. But, otherwise, she’s a pretty happy kid. Looking back at Isabelle, I add, “I like my privacy.”
“Of course.” She nods. “I’d never….”
I don’t know if anyone could claim they’d “never,” but I’ll accept it for now. “Right.” I turn toward the door. “Got sh–– stuff to do.” Opening the back door, I step through, letting the screen door slap shut behind me.Focus on the farm, not on Isabelle Harmon.
An hour later, I’ve led Cy out to her mother and cleaned out her stall. By the time I’m leading her back, a white Ford F250 has pulled into my driveway. The vet is here. I step out into the sun and wave at Cal Bartholomew.
I went to school with Cal. Then, while I stayed back to be a father to my baby, he went off to Iowa State to become a vet. He’s a good one too. I’m glad he came back home to work. A good veterinarian was lacking this close to home. We used to have to call on someone from Emmetsville, and back then, it took days to get someone out here. Now, Cal’s a phone call away.
“That her?” He points to Cy.
“Yep.”
Stepping up to her, he kneels down to get closer. Slipping on a pair of gloves, he asks, “She born with only one eye?”
Her left eye never seemed to have developed at all. “Yep. Not even an opening.”
“Hm, interesting.” Turning her head, he looks at the other eye. Opening it wider, he mumbles something to himself. “I don’t think it’s pink eye.” He looks closer. “It could be BVD.” Bovine viral diarrhea. “You said she doesn’t appear to have the other symptoms. Has she been nursing?”
I nod. “Some.”
