“Because everybody said that’s what I was supposed to do. Follow my heart. Follow my dreams.”
“And now you’re a star.”
The star wasn’t me, any more than the shadow was me. I was lost somewhere between them, the bright and the dark. But I couldn’t tell him that. I never told anybody. “That wasn’t ever my dream,” I said instead. “It just happened. My voice teacher thought the audition would be good practice.”
Dan was silent.
I watched the kittens, blindly searching for their place. “I’m not like the rest of my family,” I said. “I never made any grand plans about what I’d do when I grew up. I never thought of being married like Meg or famous like Jo or starting my own company like Amy. I couldn’t imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth, trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but here.”
“Sounds pretty great to me,” he said. “Being here.”
I swallowed the ache in my throat. “Yes. But it’s not enough.” That’s what everybody said. My teachers. My sisters. My mother. Colt.
“I don’t see that. You want to be useful? I’ve watched the way you and your sisters take care of the babies and each other and your ma.” He took a breath. Expelled it. Looked at me, genuine puzzlement in his eyes. “How is that not enough for you? It sure as hell would be enough for me.”
The moment stretched between us, filled with the purring of the cat and hay specks floating like music in the air.
“Hey, Dan.” My mother appeared from the creamery, a bandanna over her hair. “Hannah could use some help with the pallets.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I thought you were visiting James Laurence today,” she said to me as he left.
I flushed guiltily. Because Ihadpromised. I should go, I should play, I should do it for him, he’d been so kind to me. But every time I reached for my guitar, I froze. “I wanted to give Dan a hand first.”
“You want to be careful there, honey,” my mother warned. “That’s a working cat.”
I bent to give the calico a parting pat. “She just needs time to get used to me.”
“Beth, these barn cats... They’re not like Weasley.” The cat I’d grown up with. “They’re feral. We give them work and food and a better life than they could have somewhere else. But they’re not pets. You don’t want to get too close. Do you understand?”
I met her shrewd mom-gaze. “Are we still talking about the cat?”
“Not only the cat. You’re spending a lot of time with Dan these days.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“I do, yes. But how well do you really know him?”
“I know he has PTSD.”
“He told you.”
“Not much. He’s very...”Undemanding. Kind.“Quiet,” I said.
My mother sighed. “He had a rough childhood. Bounced around in foster care, got into fights at school. He enlisted to avoid jail. Did a couple of tours and was finally discharged for slugging his commanding officer.”
I shivered. Not in fear. In shame. Compared to Dan’s hardships, my problems seemed so small. “You always say we should give people a chance.”
“I hired him, didn’t I? He’s good with the animals. But you’re my daughter.”
Amy would have made some kind of joke.Does that mean you love me more than the goats?
“Don’t worry, Mom. You can trust him. You can trust me.”
She tugged off her bandanna, running her hand through her hair. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Hurt?I blinked at her. “He’s not violent.”
