Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Nothing. He tilted his head back, scanning the trees, peering past fluttering leaves and the shadows of rising morning, searching for even a hint of red that wasn’t the last of fading autumn.
“Peanut?” he called again, softer—and this time was rewarded by a whimper, small and mewling as a kitten, to his left.
He turned quickly, squinting up at the branches of a thick older maple…and that was where he found her. True to the kitten she’d sounded like, she’d managed to wedge herself in the crook of a high branch, and huddled there, clinging to the trunk, her face grubby and her hands scratched and her face wet with tears, bark and leaves and twigs in her hair and all over her pajamas. She peered down at him miserably, then burst into a pathetic, heart-rending little wail of “Viiiiic I can’t get dooooown!”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He stepped back, gauging the distance up the tree. She was maybe fifteen feet up, higher than he could reach, but farther than she could safely jump. “Hold on. I’m coming up for you.”
He reached over his head, testing a few branches until he found one sturdy enough, then flexed and hefted himself up, pulling himself to stand with his feet braced closed to the trunk and holding himself up with a few branches overhead. He couldn’t risk climbing higher; she was light enough for the upper branches to hold her weight, but he’d crack them and bring them both crashing down. Holding himself up with one hand, he reached the other up to her.
“Come on now, Peanut. Just reach down and grab my hand. It’s cold and we need to get you inside and warmed up.”
Siorse cringed, pressing closer to the trunk and peering down. “But…it’s really far…”
“Down there is really far. I’m right up close, but I can’t get any closer. I need you to come to me. It’s just a little way, baby. Come on. You can do it.”
Trembling, Siorse eyed him mistrustfully, then crept along the branch, shifting onto her hands and knees so she could cling with her thighs and one arm while she stretched the other out to him. He reached as far as he could, straining out toward her—and when he caught her hand firmly, he said, “Now let go.”
She did—and screamed as for a moment she fell, before he swung her around and caught her up in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. Words couldn’t describe the relief flooding him as, with a sob, she buried her face against him, clutching to him for dear life while he dropped down into a careful crouch, holding her tight with one hand and gripping the branch with the other so he could swing them both down.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, patting her back, stroking her hair. “You’re okay. We’re on the ground. I’ve got you.”
She shook and sniffled for a few moments more, then peered up at him from past clenched fists that ground against his chest. “Vic…?” she whispered, as if not really believing he was there, and he smiled.
“Hey,” he said, and tucked her tangled hair back. “Hey, you. How’s my baby girl?”
“I’m not a baby anymore,” she mumbled sulkily. “You can’t call me that.”
“I guess I can’t. You’re a young lady now, aren’t you? Very proper. I’ll have to start calling you Miss Aster.”
Siorse’s lip thrust out. “That’s not my name!”
“No? What’s your name?”
“Siorse,” she proclaimed firmly, and he grinned, turning to carry her toward the back door to the house. He’d wanted to distract her from being upset, and it had worked. “Siorse Aster.”
“Siorse Aster. So it is.” He tapped her little upturned nose. “So, Siorse Aster…why did you run away up the tree? You worried your mum sick.”
Siorse screwed her face up, then folded her arms over her chest and glared away. “Mom’s gonna make me go to school and I don’t want to,” she articulated very precisely.
“Why not?”
“Everyone picks on me because I don’t have a dad.” Her voice got small, thick. “And they say really mean thins about Mom.”
Ah, fuck. Vic closed his eyes, barely holding back a curse. How the hell did this still hurt like it was fresh after all these years? He hugged her tighter, stroking her back. “You do have a dad, Peanut.”
“Mom won’t tell me who he is.”
With good reason.
But he smiled, and bent to set her down on her own two feet on the back patio doormat. Bracing his hands on his thighs, he looked at her at eye level. “Tell you what. I’ll be your ad. How about that?”
She toyed with her lower lip, staring at him with wide eyes. “Does that mean you’re gonna marry Mom and live with us?”
“Not quite,” he said with a sigh, and ruffled her hair. “But you can still tell those miserable little jerks you’ve got a dad, and that Dad’s going to be very angry if they’re mean to you and Mum. Besides.” He tweaked her cheek, wiping away a wet track. “You’re still my little girl.”