Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“What the hell happened?” I go around to the other side of the bed and look at our daughter, who is sleeping peacefully next to her mom. She doesn’t seem to have a bump or bruise, or a single curl out of place. Then, what Moira said earlier plays back in my mind.
“Who did this to you?”
“Franco,” Ana says tearfully.
“Wh-what?” I don’t like the guy because he keeps my daughter a day’s drive from me, but I never suspected him to be violent. If I had gotten that vibe from him, I would’ve said something. “Ana, Franco did this?”
She nods as tears fall from her eyes. I reach for a tissue and dab at them. “Ana,” I say her name again, but this time my tone is full of sorrow.
Ana and I are friends because we have a child together. We met during a frat party on campus and had a drunken hook-up. My long-term girlfriend had told me earlier that day she wanted to be free and enjoy her college experience.
I was heartbroken, drowning my sorrows, and in walks Ana. This cutie, with long, curly blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and legs that went on for days.
Six weeks later, she’s in my room crying because her period was late. I never thought to ask her if the baby was mine. Something in my bones told me he or she was. But that was the extent of things for us. We never tried to make a go of things, and halfway through her pregnancy, she met Franco. They had a rocky relationship from the start, but things seemed to even out after they got married.
I pull the chair next to her bed and reach for her hand, the one under Goldie’s head. “What happened?”
“A couple of weeks ago, he lost his job. I thought we had a healthy savings, but it turns out we don’t, and the bank sent us foreclosure papers, and . . .” She sobs. “I need you to take Goldie, Wade. I don’t want her here, seeing this stuff. I don’t know what’s going on with Franco, but she can’t be here.”
“Where’s Franco now?”
“In jail. I think,” she says. “The cops came, and . . .”
“Did he hurt Goldie?”
She shakes her head. “No, but she heard me crying and him yelling, and just please take her back to Magnolia Grove.”
“I will, but what about school?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe she can start there or something.”
I nod, knowing we’ll figure it out later.
“Why don’t you come back to Magnolia with us?”
Ana shakes her head. “My dad is flying here to take me back home. I think it’s best until I can figure this stuff out with Franco.”
Home is some small town in Wisconsin. I went there once, for her baby shower. I like her parents a lot, and they’re great to Goldie.
“Please tell me you’re leaving him?”
Ana nods.
I squeeze her hand and lean forward. It’s taking everything in me to stay still, to stay in the room and not head to the jail to confront Franco. Ana made me promise a long time ago to stay out of her relationship with him, and I agreed.
“Ana . . .”
She shakes her head. “My dad is coming, Wade. I’m leaving, I promise. But I can’t take care of Goldie while I’m trying to navigate this path my life is on. I know you want to do something, but please, just trust me.”
“Okay, Ana.”
I continue to sit there, watching them sleep. When the sun comes up, Ana and Goldie have an emotional goodbye, and I take my daughter back to Magnolia.
two
lemon
His name flashes like a beacon on the stark white sheet of paper. I gloss over it, pretending I don’t see it, and flip the page on the minutes from the last board meeting. I worked my ass off over the summer, trying to get the school board to approve any other landscaper to maintain the grounds at our schools.
Each request, denied.
“You’ll just have to remind Jean he’s her responsibility,” I say to my empty office. I lean back and groan, giving up on the board minutes, and spin my chair to look out my window. As much as I hate admitting Jenkins Landscaping does a good job . . . no, not good, but impeccable. I just can’t stand seeing the owner once a week.
“Twice a week,” I remind myself out loud. Thanks to the hearty dose of sun Magnolia Grove gets through the spring, summer, and early fall, the damn lawn grows like Taylor Swift’s fan base.
I sigh in defeat and turn back to my rich, dark reddish-brown mahogany desk. My grandfather had made it for my grandmother when she opened her own accounting firm, and when I became principal of Magnolia Grove Elementary School, she gifted it to me. It took six men and a dolly to bring her in here. I remember my dad telling me to pick the perfect spot because once they set her down, she wasn’t moving.