Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“I love you,” I tell her, still struck by the fact that I don’t have to pull back so she can read my lips or watch me sign the words.
She can hear me, even with her face buried in my neck, a fact she proves by squeezing me tighter and whispering, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I know I did a bad thing. I just wanted to go to the party so much.”
I stand, lifting her into my arms, letting her feet dangle. “I know, but you can’t ever do anything like this again, kid. You could have been hit by a car and killed on the highway or worse.” Binx widens her eyes behind Sprout, and I soften my tone as I add, “Hitchhiking is very dangerous. Not all strangers are nice. I don’t even hitchhike, and I’m the biggest man I know.”
Sprout shoots me a confused look. “I didn’t hitchhike, Daddy.”
I frown. “Then how did you get here so fast? There’s no way you walked from Grammy’s all the way up to the winery before she noticed you were gone.”
Her lips quirk up as she snorts. “No, I called a taxi. Mr. Hamish’s taxi, the one that comes to the bar when people aren’t safe to drive. I called him from Grammy’s phone while she was feeding the cats. She always takes her shower after, so I knew she wouldn’t be there when he pulled up.”
I narrow my eyes on her face. “Clever.”
She smiles.
“And bad,” I emphasize, wiping the smile away. “But not as bad as hitchhiking.”
She nods soberly, making her slightly crooked pigtails bob. She has my wavy brown hair and her mother’s green eyes. She also has my height—she’s the tallest girl in third grade—but was spared my big, beefy frame. She’s a beauty, and is going to be absolutely stunning when she grows up.
I hope I’m always there to protect her from the bad people who are drawn to beautiful girls and women, but if for some reason, I’m not, it’s comforting to know she has a good head on her shoulders.
“You realize you scared Grammy to death,” I add, making her lips turn down at the edges.
“I know,” she says, sounding ashamed. “I was going to leave her a note, but I was afraid she’d come get me before I had time to dance and get cake.”
I sigh. “Dancing and cake aren’t as important as being good to the people we love. Scaring Grammy like that wasn’t nice. When she called to tell me you were gone, she was crying so hard I could barely understand her at first.”
Sprouts eyes widen and begin to shine. “I didn’t think she’d be that scared. Sometimes I go outside to play without asking.”
“Not at nine o’clock at night,” I remind her. “And not when you’re actually planning to jump into a cab, so she can’t find you when she looks outside.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “I was pretending I was Cinderella getting in the pumpkin to go the ball. I was just playing. I didn’t mean to hurt Grammy’s feelings.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Binx says, stepping closer. “And now you’ll know never to do anything like this again.”
“Is Grammy mad?” Sprout asks, tears slipping from the edges of her eyes.
“No, she was scared. Really scared. Now, she’s really glad you’re all right.” I sigh, adding against my better judgement, “And she wants you to bring her home a piece of wedding cake.”
Sprout blinks. “We…we can stay until they cut the cake?”
“We can,” I say. “But then we’re headed straight home, and you’re grounded for a month. No garage sales on Saturday mornings with Grammy or ice cream after school and you’ll be doing chores around the new camp to make up for giving me a heart attack.”
She nods, a smile curving her lips. “I can do that. I’m a good helper, and I spent all my garage sale money anyway, so I have to save up.” She glances at Binx before turning back to me and asking shyly, “Does this mean I can go dance some more, too? Just until it’s time for cake? My new friends said they’re going to play Come On Eileen soon because they always do that at McGuire parties.”
“One of your favorites,” I say, though I can’t stomach the tune myself. I shake my head and hug her one last time before setting her back on her feet. “Okay. Go, dance. But don’t leave the tent,” I add. “I want you where I can see you.”
“My sister Wendy Ann is in the tent, too,” Binx calls after her retreating form. “She’s the one with glasses and the boring black dress. Say hi if you see her. She’s great and likes math even more than you do.”
Sprout spins, flashing us a thumbs-up and a gap-toothed grin. “Roger Dodger.”