I jerk my gaze down to her. “What for, sweetheart?”
She shrugs. “I do the best I can. I promise I’ll do better at your place.”
I turn to more fully face her and tip her chin back. “Don’t you apologize for anything. You’re not responsible for the contents of his house. You hear me?”
She nods.
“Let’s gather whatever you want to take with you and get out of here, okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your room, Rebekah?”
She takes a deep breath and leads me toward the small hallway. There are only two rooms and a small bathroom. I assume the farther bedroom is Richard’s. She leads me into the first one. It has two twin beds. Or rather, it has two ratty old mattresses on equally old frames. They look like they could collapse. She would have been better off putting her mattress on the floor.
I assume the second bed was Hannah’s. Rebekah has probably been very lonely without her sister. It breaks my heart. I wonder where Hannah is and why she really left. Maybe she ran away. Maybe she didn’t.
There is no furniture in this room. Just the two beds. Rebekah heads over to a pile of clothes on the floor and lifts them. Her cheeks are pink when she looks at me. “I don’t have anything to put them in.”
I step closer and take the meager items out of her hands. “You don’t need this, sweetheart,” I say gently. “I’ll get you new clothes. Grab what’s important to you.”
Her breath hitches as I set the pile on her mattress. “I can wear those. You don’t need to buy me anything. I don’t want to be a burden.”
I turn back to her and cup her face. “You will never be a burden. Don’t mention it again. I have plenty of money, sweetheart. Now, let me ask you something. Did your mother keep any important papers, like your birth certificate, perhaps?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, I think so.” She takes my hand and leads me from the room.
I hate entering her father’s room. It’s pretty sparse, too, but it’s also messier. Empty moonshine bottles. Clothes. Shoes. He at least has a dresser. “Why don’t you have any furniture in your room, sweetheart?”
She has opened the closet and dropped to her knees to crawl into the back. “Dad burned them during the winter when we ran out of wood.”
I grit my teeth. We live in a fucking forest. How the fuck did he run out of wood? He’s just a lazy fuck who probably got a kick out of terrorizing Rebekah by burning her only furniture. The more I learn, the more I want to strangle him.
Rebekah pulls out a box and sets it on the floor to open it. “There are a lot of papers in here. And pictures. It might take me a while to find my birth certificate, but I know my mother mentioned it. Hannah’s should be in here, too.”
“Will your father notice if the entire box is missing?”
She tips her head back. She’s so small, sitting on the hardwood. Her red curls reach the floor behind her. “I don’t think so. I doubt if he even knows it exists.”
I bend down, put the lid back on, and pick it up. “Let’s take it. That way, you’ll have access to everything. If Hannah ever comes back, she might need something in here, too. What else do you want, sweetheart?”
She pops up and leans back into the closet, pushing aside all the clothes until she gets to the far back. What she pulls out takes my breath away. “It’s my mother’s wedding dress. Do you think she would mind if I wore it when we get married?” Her voice wobbles with indecision and emotion.
I’m choked up, too. “I think your mother would be so proud of you. She’ll be watching down on you from heaven this afternoon, smiling. I’ll say a prayer and promise her that you will always be loved and taken care of.”
Rebekah throws her arms around me and hugs me tight, the dress crushed between us.
I kiss the top of her head. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” I don’t want to linger here. Even though three of my brothers are outside, I don’t want there to be a confrontation with her father here. It’s inevitable. I will come back and talk to him so he knows where his daughter is, but I don’t want her to witness whatever might transpire between us because I have a feeling it won’t be polite.
Six
Adam
* * *
When we get outside, I put the box and the dress on the back seat of my truck, lift Rebekah into the passenger side, and fasten her seatbelt. Before I can shut the door, another engine comes rattling down the lane. This one does not belong to one of my brother’s trucks. Whatever the vehicle is, it’s sputtering and sounds like it might not make it up the last hill.
Rebekah stiffens. “That’s him.”
