Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Her lips part, but she clamps them back together, turning away quickly.
Jack busies himself by lining up planks and screws, muttering obscenities under his breath, and West returns to lugging things about. I pass Skye the lacquer to apply to the units I finished in the spring. There is a purposeful atmosphere that feels like progress.
She accepts the brush and eyes the lacquer warily. "Can you show me?"
I demonstrate what I need her to do, and she observes and copies. I stay close, conscious that she's building her confidence around us. After five minutes, I'm about to leave when she says, "It's been a while since anyone did anything thoughtful for me…not since my parents, since…" Her voice trails off, and she lowers her gaze to the surface before her.
"This has been planned for a while. I just thought it would be something you'd enjoy, too."
She smiles shyly.
Conscious that we're making some group progress, I try to involve Jack. "Maybe Jack can show you how to carve wood."
"She's quite good with an ax, aren't you, Skye?" Jack cuts in and throws her a strange look that I can't work out. I want to say something, but Jack's face could freeze the sun.
Skye takes a deep breath. I notice the mottled red blotches appearing on her neck and chest. She’s clearly overwhelmed.
"I'm going to the bathroom." Her words sound as if they come from far away, and she turns and flees from the studio, leaving nothing behind except the retreating sound of her ragged breathing echoing around the barn.
West downs his tool and approaches.
"Should I go after her?" I ask him.
A draft sweeps into the room from the now open door, swinging on its hinges. The weather has taken a turn, and the dark sky is angry and thick with threatening gray clouds. The rain is back, and the sound on the tin roof beats an urgent rhythm.
West shakes his head as if he doesn't understand what the hell is going on. I’m now sure that there is something that Skye is not telling us. She sold herself to us for a year, and we are still none the wiser as to why. And as much as I want her to stay and I’m enjoying having her around, I can't shake the discomfort I feel about it all.
This was supposed to be about creating some unity, some common ground.
Jack clears his throat and then speaks in a hushed tone, careful that his words are only audible to us. "Me and Skye, we were together last night." Jack's eyes drift to the door left open by Skye's hasty exit. "Not sure if either of you have noticed, but she has a scar. It's from a caesarian section birth. It's right there in the line of her panties. It's still pink, so it can't be that old. My guess is that she has had a baby sometime in the past year." He pauses and takes a breath, seeking acknowledgment from West and me to go on. "Yeah, well, you know what sort of state I was in last night. I wasn't choosing my words very carefully. When we were done, I asked her where her child was. And why did she think it was okay to abandon it somewhere because it clearly isn't here!"
Jack glances at the floor and tugs at this shirt collar, which he has buttoned right up to the top, tapping his right foot erratically. We remain silent for a moment. Words aren't always necessary to know what each other is thinking. But I can't help myself.
"For Christ's sake, Jack. Why'd you go make accusations like that? You don't know what happened."
Gritting his teeth, he lets out a ragged breath.
"I’m not proud, all right. But I damn well want to know what her deal is. And what sort of goddamn trouble she could bring to our door."
West has been quiet until now, but he says something that hasn't occurred to Jack or me. "What if she had a baby and it died?" I swallow hard on his words as they seem to echo around the studio with a life of their own, just as Skye reappears in the doorway.
If she heard what he said, she doesn’t give anything away, returning to her abandoned task.
I meet West's gaze and Jack's, but no one says anything. West's suggestion would explain Skye's tears and her desperation to bury her past in the remoteness of the forest. Maybe the auction had nothing to do with money and had more to do with escape. Maybe she lied to me. Perhaps everything was too fresh and raw, and she couldn't deal with staying around where she'd be forced to remember every day.
And here is Jack, trying to force her to reveal her truth one way or another.