Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Before I get to the kitchen, I can hear Dax whispering. “She might not want to eat with us, Mum. Can’t you just leave it?”
Dax hasn’t come across as particularly empathetic, but maybe I’m wrong. I have a feeling there’s a lot more to Dax beneath the surface.
“Nonsense,” Carole replies.
I open the kitchen door before their conversation escalates to an argument.
“This is so kind,” I say.
Carole hands me a plate. “Not at all. You’re going to be looking after my granddaughter. It’s the least I can do.”
I’m struck with the realization that I’ve not actually seen Dax with his daughter other than at the park after Doreen collapsed. “Is she a good sleeper?” I ask.
“Yes, in her room. The temporary nanny seems to have her in a routine,” Carole answers, even though I was looking at Dax when I asked the question. “Help yourself. We’ve carved up the chicken so you can take whatever you want.”
I take a leg and some broccoli and sit down at the reclaimed table at the end of the kitchen, feeling every kind of awkward. “Guinevere’s a week old? Is that right?”
“Eight days,” Dax answers.
“Nine days ago, nobody knew anything about her.” Carole shakes her head, exasperated, and Dax sighs.
Had he been keeping Guinevere a secret from people? Is she a surprise adoption? Was she left on the doorstep? I can barely contain my curiosity so I keep my eyes on the chicken and try not to blurt out eleven questions at once.
“But she looks just like her father. There was no need for that DNA test.”
“Mum. Please. Eira has barely moved in. She doesn’t want to know all my dirty secrets.”
“Don’t you dare call my granddaughter a dirty secret.”
Dax puts his knife and fork down and pushes his chair back from the table, then stands and heads to the sink. “I didn’t call Guinevere a dirty secret.”
“Can you believe it?” Carole looks at me. “Had the law been different in America, we might never have known we had another member of the Cove family.”
“But we do,” Dax says.
“You seem completely indifferent, Dax. Do you know how close you came to never knowing you had a daughter? That woman had no intention of telling you.”
Dax comes back to the table with a glass of water for himself and one for me. It’s thoughtful and kind and…unexpected.
“Thank you,” I say as he sets it down in front of me.
“You’re welcome,” he replies as his mother continues to seethe opposite him.
The tension builds and I try desperately to think of a way to make things right. “But Guinevere’s so beautiful. Hopefully that makes up for any difficulty.”
Carole grabs my arm. “Yes, we should focus on the good. And not worry that her mother was going to give her up for adoption without even telling Dax.”
I try not to physically recoil when I hear her words, but it’s difficult.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “That must be…traumatic.”
“More for my mother than for me, apparently,” Dax says.
Carole rolls her eyes. “Nothing upsets my youngest son, Eira.”
“There’s no point in being upset about something that didn’t happen. It makes no sense.”
I want the ground to swallow me up. It’s so awkward. I do a mental calculation on how quickly I can get out of here without being rude. I feel like I’ve taken an awkward pill and I’ve landed in Awkwardland.
“Anyway,” Carole says, “Tell us about you. Have you started unpacking your room yet?”
Dax snorts like he thinks it will take three years to unpack my room given all the boxes he helped carry in. But he’s wrong. Three days max until all the boxes are unpacked and then a couple of weeks to refine where everything needs to be.
I don’t know if it’s just my boxes that have gotten under his skin, but Dax is prickly when it comes to me moving in. I’m not sure if it’s personal or if it’s just who he is. Maybe it’s better if he’s just naturally a bit rude—another perfect item for my list. His attitude is like a safeguard for professional distance.
“Not yet. I’ll get there.”
“Do you have family close by?” she asks.
“My sister’s at university in Exeter,” I reply, half answering the question.
“Oh, that’s a lovely part of the world. What about your parents?”
The scrape of Dax’s chair on the kitchen floor means I don’t get the chance to answer the question.
“Please excuse me. I have work to do.” Dax seems to have eaten his food as quickly as a stray dog offered a juicy steak for the first time in a week.
Carole and I sit in silence while Dax stands and puts his plate in the dishwasher.
As he closes the kitchen door, Carole sits back in her chair. “I’m sorry about Dax. He’s a good man, believe me. But having a daughter…a child…it’s an adjustment for him. For all of us really.” Carole’s clearly worried about her son. It reminds me of the way I worry about Eddie and Dylan. I want life to be perfect for them.