Julia tried to keep her expression neutral. It was true; their dad was the one who used to walk them down the side lawn and across the lower field to the lake on weekend mornings. They’d walk out to the edge of the wooden dock where the family’s big red canoe was moored. It was the same one their father had grown up fishing in, he said, and every couple of years, he’d haul it up to one of the main barns and strip it and repaint it the same color of cranberry red. Just thinking of their excursions made Julia smile: she recalled how her dad would kneel at the edge of the dock and steady it for them. The way the canoe rocked from side to side when they stepped down into it, and each time their father would laugh and shake it just a little, to make them squeal. But he never took his hands off the sides, and no one ever fell in.
“Sometimes Mama would come,” Pippa said softly. “She made peanut butter and jelly.”
Julia looked at Pippa sympathetically as she tried to come up with something to distract her. “I miss them, too.” Then, “They’d want us to have fun, Pippa. Mommy and Daddy would want you to play. And fish in that canoe.”
Pippa didn’t say anything but pulled at a stray dandelion in the lawn.
“Maybe another time,” Julia said, glancing down at the lake. What she would have given to have her license. There were three large lakes in Saybrook. She could take Pippa to the town beach.Maybe try seeing her friends. And Sam. She pulled her phone out of her pocket.
Sam had messaged her that morning, as he did each day, telling her that he was thinking about her. Asking to meet up by the stream. Or on their rock.Anywhere. She could almost feel the ache in Sam’s message. It was something she ached for, too. It would be so good to talk to him, to have him hold her hand. To feel almost normal for just a few minutes. But then the guilt would come washing back: the fact that it was Sam she’d been with when her parents took their last breaths. That maybe if she’d been home that night, something different might have happened.
And then there was Pippa. Julia glanced longingly at Sam’s last message and shoved her phone back in her pocket. “Come on, Pip. Let’s go visit Raddy.”
Wendell’s truck was parked by the barn. Just the sight of the blue Ford filled Julia with a sense of comfort. She used to wonder why he drove an old-model truck, the paint faded across its broad hood. Now she smiled at the familiar dented fender.
The barn was the one place where Julia felt like things were still the same. It was the only place that offered her a sense of safety. As soon as they stepped inside, Raddy nickered and pricked his ears. “Look, Pip. He’s happy to see you!”
The smallest smile crept across Pippa’s face. Julia went into the tack room and removed the lid from the grain bin. The sweet smell of molasses filled her nostrils as she reached inside and scooped a few handfuls into a small bucket. “Here, give him this.”
Pippa hurried over to Raddy’s stall door and held her hand up, palm open. Raddy went hog wild for the sweet grain, and Pippa giggled softly as he ate eagerly from her hand. When some spilled from his lips and down her arm, she let out a little squeal of laughter. “It tickles!”
Thank God for Raddy,Julia thought as she sank onto a bale of hay and watched them.
There was a creak in the doorway behind them, and both girls turned. Wendell stood in the open frame, watching them. Julia stood up from the bale of hay, feeling suddenly uncertain.
Wendell was a quiet person, someone she never could quite figure out. But she was sure of one thing: he was a good guy. Her dad had thought so, and she’d seen it herself over all the years he’d worked for her parents. Seeing him now made her eyes fill up inexplicably.
“Sorry to disturb you. I was just looking for the big green garden rake.” He smiled at them both, looking like he was almost as glad to see them as Julia felt to see him in the barn.
Julia pointed to the far wall, where a small collection of stall rakes and shovels hung. “It’s over there.”
But Wendell was distracted by Pippa and Radcliffe. His face lit up as he watched Raddy reach over the stall door and nudge Pippa playfully with his nose, begging for more grain. She giggled and got another handful. “Careful, kiddo. You’ll spoil that horse rotten.” He watched the two a moment longer, and Julia began to wonder if he’d forgotten about the rake. Then Wendell cleared his throat, his expression turning serious. Julia swallowed hard, sensing what might come next.
“Girls, I want you to know I’m really sorry about your mom and dad. What happened to them, and to you, is just so unfair.”
Julia glanced quickly at Pippa, who’d gone still, her hand extended over her head. Julia let her gaze drift to the doorway and to the bright green morning outside, considering what Wendell had just said. “Unfair” was the first word someone had used to describe her parents’ deaths that made any sense to her.
“They were such good people, and I…” Wendell paused andswiped at his eyes. To her shock, Julia realized it was tears. “I miss them, too.”
Julia nodded, forcing back her own tears. It was all such an unexpected demonstration from the Wendell she was used to that she didn’t quite know what to say. “Thank you,” she said finally.
Thankfully, he relieved them of the moment. “Well, I’ll let you get back to fattening that horse up. I have to head up to the house to meet your aunt.”
This got Julia’s attention. “What for?”
Wendell shrugged. “About my work on the estate, I think.”
“Are you sure it’s today? She’s already meeting with our family lawyer.”
“Yes, Mr. Banks. She mentioned that.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “That’s weird. She won’t let us meet with him, but she’s invited you?”
Behind them, Pippa gasped. Wendell and Julia swiveled to face her at the same time.
“Are you being fired?” Pippa’s voice was small, but she’d spoken. Julia couldn’t believe it.
Wendell smiled softly. “I sure hope not, kiddo.”
