She shook her head. "No. I mean, he touches me a lot, but like massaging my shoulders and stroking my hair. Keeps saying he always wanted a daughter, but he never wants to talk to me. He just tells me to go to my room, unless Mom's there. Then I can watch TV or stuff."
Not good. So not good. Sadly, all I could do was nod. "Why your room?" I asked. "Does he hang out in there with you?"
"No. He just says that if I'm in my room then he can play on the computer without worrying about me. And he wants me to take a lot of baths. He says I sweat a lot. I use deodorant and everything, but Mom says he has a sensitive nose."
My guts were twisting. "Uh huh," I said. "Heard you're going to be the flower girl for their wedding."
"I wanted to be a maid of honor, but Brody said I'm too young. Said to enjoy being a little girl while I could, but I'm almost thirteen!"
"This month," I said, making it clear I knew that. Then I decided to give her a little break. "What are you doing for your birthday?"
"Nothing," she grumbled. "Mom will make a cake, and we have this little baby pool in the back yard. We'll pretend like it's a big one, and Brody will take pictures. Things like that. He was telling me all about it. Even bought me a bikini, but it's kinda ugly. I don't want to wear it."
"Ugly how?"
She wiggled her fingers in front of her chest. "Has all these frilly things. It's like something a five-year-old would wear, but Mom says I'm not old enough for a real bikini."
I grunted, trying to make it sound like a laugh, but I wasn't liking where all of this was going. "What's a real bikini?"
"Like the ones Violet wears. You know, like a sports bra. I like the ones with the shorts for bottoms, but Brody says those are called boy shorts because they're for boys."
"Sounds to me like they're cramping your style a little, huh?"
"A lot," she admitted. "That's why I want to live with Dad. At least when I ask for something he won't give me, he tells me why. He doesn't try to bullshit me." Then she gasped. "I mean lie to me."
I just lifted a hand. "Promise I won't tell. And if you do that in front of your dad, blame Ash."
She laughed at that. "After yesterday! And Dad cussed too. I heard him, even with the water. He's such a wuss. They did my eyebrows and it didn't even hurt."
"Pretty sure he had more hair to pull off." Then I winked. "But don't make him feel bad. I'm proud of him for trying new things. It's not easy. Everyone tells you how to be and what to think all the time, and by the time you're his age, it gets hard to accept anything else."
"You mean like Violet?" She leaned back and smiled. "I like her. Dad's a lot more fun now that they're dating."
"Does your mom know they're dating?"
She shook her head. "Oh no. Mom doesn't like her. Said she's..." Faith paused, clearly trying to remember the word. "I think it was pretentious. I told her Violet was a real model, but she didn't believe me. Then I found her picture in one of Mom's wedding magazines. Mom said it was airbrushed, but I told her Violet really is that pretty. She said I shouldn't talk to tramps like her."
"Your mom might be jealous," I pointed out. "It's not easy to compare yourself to someone who's a professional in that field. Like me. I've been learning how to cut hay, and your dad's been teaching me. I barely know how to work the tractor, and he always makes it look easy. He greases things and then he hooks it all up, and he drives that mess like he knows where all the corners are. I kinda hit the fence when I tried."
She giggled. "Dad said he'd make a country boy out of you yet. He thinks you have potential."
"See! I'm just starting out, but he's been doing it for years. Your mom has other things she's good at, and Violet? She made a career out of looking pretty so people would buy the clothes she was wearing."
"It was underwear," Faith told me.
"Usually. She's also sold jeans and shirts. Even perfume. She started when she was only a few years older than you, so she's got a lot of experience knowing what works and what doesn't. It's also a full-time job, so she doesn't get to do things like ride horses."
Faith chewed on her lower lip. "I think Mom just hates her because Dad doesn't. She said he was supposed to marry her. That's what a good man would've done. Dad says that raising a child isn't about marriage. It's about being a parent. I think he's more right than her. I mean, she's just marrying Brody because she likes his house."
"Why do you think he's marrying your mom?" I asked. I knew what she'd said the last time, but I was hoping she'd forget about that.
This time, Faith picked at her lip as she thought. "I think Brody's weird. Girls don't like him, and Mom doesn't care about that if he'll let her stay home so she doesn't need a job. She makes dinner and cleans, so all he has to do is work and play on his computer. But he doesn't want us to ever look at it."
"Even when he's there, you can't use it?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Not his laptop. Mom has one, though, and I use that. Plus, I have my phone. He's just weird about his stuff."
Another red flag. "How so?"
