Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“I can’t see them during the day, though. Maybe I should stay up.” She blinks her eyes, valiantly trying to stay awake.
“But then the monsters can’t sleep and they’ll be tired at work tomorrow.”
“Oh,” she says, her voice sad. “I don’t want them to be tired.”
“We don’t want you to be tired, either.” I lean down and press a kiss against her forehead. At five, Ronnie has lost that new baby smell, but now it’s little girl sweetness that makes a corner of my heart squeeze tight. I chase that feeling away with another kiss and give way to Ronnie’s mother.
“Almost time for lights out,” my sister announces. “Anything else you want to say to your Uncle?”
“Unca Jonas, do you like horses?”
“’Course I do.” Ronnie has recently developed an interest in them. My sister’s been calling around to see if five is too young for her to start lessons.
“Do you think a pony would like to live with me?”
I shoot a glance toward my sister to see where I should go with my answer. Melody only gives me a small shrug.
“Any pony would be lucky to live here.”
Ronnie flashes me her gummy, missing one front tooth smile. “Did you know that the best ponies live in a special farm not too far away? I saw it on TV.”
She must be talking about the Ward estate. There was a news special on their farm a couple of weeks ago. It’s been a long time since I saw the Wards. They’ve been breeding horses since the Mayflower landed. Problem is that the Wards are picky about who they sell their horses to, so I don’t want to promise anything to Ronnie. “There are lots of ponies around, not just at this one farm.”
“It’s not one farm, Unca Jonas. It’s a special farm,” she declares in a tone that suggests I’m stupid for not catching on. Before an argument can ensue, my sister makes us say goodnight.
While my sister finishes the bedtime process, I wander downstairs to the kitchen. My brother-in-law, Dean, is the head of security at the Galleria Shopping Center. One of the new guys flaked on him so he’s covering a night shift. He called earlier to ask me to stay the night and watch over his family.
Dean’s a great guy—normal, middle class, decent. I’ve offered him a job at Willits a hundred times and he’s turned every one down. He’s never said he wanted to support his family on his own, but I know that’s why he refuses to work for Willits. I admire that and his indulgence in expensive whiskey. I pour myself a good dose over a couple ice cubes. I need it after spending the evening with Ronnie curled up on my lap.
My sister comes down a few moments later. I raise my glass in her direction. “Want some?”
“No. I’m going to make myself some tea.” She fills a pot in the sink and sets it on the stove. “I don’t need the liquor to dull my pain as I have none.”
She doesn’t have to even look at me for the arrow to hit home.
“Ouch,” I say, clutching my chest dramatically. “What did I do to deserve that remark?”
She flicks the stove on before turning to me with a look of incredulity that she’s perfected in her five years as a mother. “You’re thirty-three, Jonas. You love children. You should have three of your own by now instead of coming over here once a week and pretending Ronnie is yours.”
“Not you, too.” I didn’t pour enough booze into my glass to withstand this topic with my sister.
“Yes, me, too. And you know things are getting bad when the old bat calls me for help.”
“I hope you made her pay for it.”
“She’s sending a check to Ronnie’s college fund tomorrow.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
The whistle on the teakettle blows, interrupting our fun little exchange, but, unfortunately, it’s only a slight cease fire before my sister has her tea made and she’s volleying more charges in my direction. “We think you should sign up for a matchmaker since you won’t date.”
“No.”
“Jonas.”
“Melody.”
She blows out an exasperated sigh. “This is ridiculous. I don’t mean to minimize your loss, baby brother. I thought Darby was perfect for you and I’m glad you chose her over all the socialites Gran paraded, but Darby is gone. It’s been three years. You’ve spent millions trying to recover her body. I hate saying this to you because I know it hurts, but you are too good of a man to be alone for the rest of your life. You love children. You and Darby talked about having a family big enough to field a softball team, which at the time I told you was crazy, and now because you’ve lost her, you’re going to live a life of isolation? That’s terrible. She would not want that for you.”