Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Big head to go with it now,” I tease.
“Hey!”
“At least you’ve grown into it,” I say with a wink.
She rolls her eyes and stands, comes to me. She turns me to face her and takes the razor from me. I raise my eyebrows as she lifts my chin.
“You safe with that thing?” I ask.
“I used to do it for my dad.”
I watch her eyes lose their shine when she mentions her father, but she forces a smile and shaves my throat, rinses and repeats.
“He told me it was him.”
I watch her, not speaking as she moves the razor over my Adam’s apple.
“He paid someone to set the fire. He destroyed our house. All our memories. Everything.”
I keep looking at her. She keeps her eyes focused on the razor.
“He told me he ran away with Mom because my grandfather wanted her to get rid of me. They were never married, and when Mom died, he was scared they’d take me away from him. He never even told them that she was dead. My grandfather didn’t know his daughter was dead.”
Her eyes fill up, and I take her wrist to make her stop. To make her look up at me. I wipe away a tear.
“Our lives were a lie. Everything I ever believed—”
“Not everything. Not the part where he loves you. I know you know that’s true, underneath it all.”
“Is my grandfather so terrible? My uncle, he was in the car with Ethan. He was…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know, but I didn’t like him, but my grandfather? Is he a monster?”
“I don’t know, O. I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry I ever thought you could have done it. Burnt down the house. I’m sorry, Silas. I knew better, and I should have believed you.”
I pull her to me. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.” She shudders in my arms, crying quietly, and I hold her until those tremors cease. I look down at her. There isn’t anything I can say to comfort her. The reality is that her father set that fire. She may not know his reason, and I can’t tell her just now, but I’ll be here for her. “Come. Let’s get dressed and go eat something. If Hamish left any food.”
She smiles a small smile at that. “It wasn’t his fault, you know, when Ethan saw me. Hamish was helping someone.”
“Yeah, well, he’s supposed to help me keep you safe so it kinda was his fault.” We walk into the bedroom to get dressed. She puts on the sweater and jeans from earlier, and I pull on a pair of slacks and a black V-neck sweater. I open the jewelry box and take out my watch to slip it on.
“Is it from your mom?” she asks, watching me again.
“Mhm. How did you know?”
“I read the inscription and guessed as much. It’s something she’d say.”
“She didn’t want money to corrupt me. She didn’t want life to corrupt me. She always forgave when I never could. And I think she wished I would.” My heart hurts a little as I look at the gift, remembering how she’d looked by the end. How small. How even when the pain was at its worst, she’d smile through it and tell me she was fine. Not to worry.
“The feathers?” Ophelia asks.
“You noticed those, huh?”
“Your mom used to say they were angels visiting us.”
“She told you that?”
“Yep. Is that why you keep them? Do you believe that?”
I look out the window at the dreary day. “I don’t know what I believe, but I know I miss her, and they always turn up in random places at times that matter, and I don’t know. It’s like it’s her, maybe, you know? At the church, I felt like it was her giving us her blessing.”
“I like that.” She brushes something off my shoulder then cups my cheek. “Tell me what happened to you last night, after you left here.”
I nod. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll tell you while we eat.”
The refrigerator is stocked, thanks to Nigella, and I scramble eggs and bacon while Ophelia presses a mixture of oranges and grapefruit for juice.
“I went to see your father, like I told you I would. I wanted him to clarify things for me, like you did.” I leave it at that, not mentioning the bloodwork or the suicide note. I don’t quite like how that omission sits, but I know it would do more harm than good for her to know those things when I don’t have more information.
“How did you get in?”
I wink at her over my shoulder. “Money, sweetheart. It makes the world go round.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Anyway, guards knew who I was and, as expected, they arrested me. When your dad realized I could potentially be charged with arson, he confessed,” I say.
“Why did he do it?” she asks. “Why would he? I don’t understand.”