“Are you having fun?” Janna asked.
“The most fun ever. Thank you.” Ezreal nudged her foot with his, and she grinned.
Brand, perhaps jealous of the attention his sister was receiving, took Ezreal’s hand. He tickled the little boy, and then Nik was diving in from the other side. They only stopped when Farmer Dale gave a deep cough and muttered about putting their backs to the back again.
Lessa squealed and pointed at a group of people riding horses, including some preteen kids.
“I want to ride a horse,” she said, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout.
“Why didn’t we ride horses?” Brand asked, glancing up at Ezreal.
“I thought about it,” he said to the four sets of young eyes staring at him. “Look at how big Peter and Pippi are. They’d be too big for you to ride alone. Besides, I’m not sure if I could juggle this ice chest on a horse’s back. What if I dropped it, and everything fell out?”
Janna giggled.
“Yes, like your soda,” Sara said.
“Soda?” Lessa asked.
“It’s what you call Coke here,” Ezreal said, exchanging an amused glance with Sara again. “Where we come from, there’s not a Dr. Pepper Coke or a Pepsi Coke or a Mountain Dew Coke.”
“Y’all are weird.” Lessa’s tone held a strong edge of superiority.
“She’s going to be a terror at sixteen,” Sara whispered to him, leaning closer.
A flash of sadness was there and gone so fast that he wondered if he’d seen it. She was such an enigma. He wished she trusted him enough to tell him what was troubling her. Because it was obvious that something was. It was always there, in the back of her eyes.
“Did I mention that I brought brownies for our feast?” Ezreal asked, pulling Brand back into a sitting position.
“A feast!” the little boy cried, clapping his hands. “I want brownies.”
“Mint brownies.” Ezreal rubbed his stomach. “They’re my favorite.”
“Mint brownies, huh?” Sara asked. “That’s good to know.”
The children started to squabble, and she set them to looking for things they saw along the trail beginning with the letter “A” and working down the alphabet. Ezreal was impressed with how it helped to focus the children’s attention. They’d made it halfway through the game when Farmer Dale pulled onto a pretty little meadow and then under a tree.
“This is the spot,” the older man said.
“You’re welcome to join us for lunch,” Sara offered.
“I brought my own. I’ll take it with the horses if you need anything.” He picked up a bag and went to the front of the carriage.
While the children chased butterflies, Ezreal and Sara spread out a blanket and moved the food to it.
“Should we call them in?” he asked as they finally sat in the shady spot.
“Let them burn up some energy. They’ll be hungry soon enough.”
They ate and watched the children laughing as they ran. Ezreal’s thoughts kept going back to Sara’s comment about her father being a heavy hitter. That had to mean the man had used corporal punishment and not a light swat on the fanny. Heavy hitter. That sounded like an abusive father to him. And controlling, based upon her remarks about the rare visits to a friend’s house. Ezreal had issues with his parents trying to control his life but her references carried an ominous feel to them that was absent in his own relationships.
The children finally came over and collapsed on the blankets, just as she’d said they would. Sara handed them each a sandwich and a drink. It didn’t take long before the three older ones were off again.
“Can I have a brownie?” Brand asked.
“Later,” Sara said.
With a grumble, he ran to join the other children.
