Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
That used to mean she'd had a good day creatively. Today, it's just more potential chaos.
“Where do you think you're going?” she asks, centering herself in my path so I know I'm not just getting by without words.
“Upstairs. It's been a long day. Need anything?”
“I didn't raise my daughter to be a wimp. How about you turn around, march back in there, and give your father a nice fat piece of your mind? The nerve, making your decisions for you!”
Oh, Christ. I take a deep breath. “Mom, no, it's not like that. He was just –“
“Steph, I'm not making her do anything. I simply asked her to have a little respect for her brother, who's been through so much. I don't want this family turning into a laughing stock.”
Mom rolls her eyes, steps forward, and puts her hand over his face. I actually feel a little bad for my father, having to take this, knowing she isn't well.
Quite a change from the defeated misery he pulled on me only minutes ago.
“Peter, Peter, Peter,” she says, slurring his name the third time. “Always so concerned about appearances. So what if she's decided to take a harmless sitter job? It's easy money. Lord knows I did my fair share of part-time gigs through art school.”
Dad gives me a dirty look, gently lifting her hand off his mouth. “It's not like that. She's looking after the Howard girl, Marshal's kid. Do you remember what he did a few years back?”
Mom wrinkles her nose. “It's my muse that's shot, not my memory, Peter. Of course I remember.”
“Then you know how Jackson feels. I tried to break the news as gently as I could, before he stormed out.”
“You handled him with kid gloves. Easy mistake.” Mom doesn't skip a beat, a wry smile on her face. She turns toward me. “Listen, both of you, what's really messing with this family are the secrets. Sadie, you never should've kept this from us. And you, Peter, I should've been the first to know. I'm disappointed.”
“I'm sorry, dear. I would've told you tonight, but our kids couldn't wait to lock horns.”
I think mom and I share the same disapproving look. Just for once, I wish my dad would grow a pair if he's decided to double-down on being an asshat. I hurt him, I get it, but he knew the truth. Possibly for days, without confronting me. He went to Jackson first instead.
“So, does a crazy person get any real input in this house, or will you two just humor me?” Mom looks from him to me.
“What?” I shake my head, not understanding.
Dad gives me a warning look, before he stands straight and whispers through clenched teeth. “Of course we'll consider anything you have to say, Steph. You're the love of my life.”
Her eyes soften. Sometimes, when the love flows honestly, we're able to get through to her. She walks over to him, grasping his hand. Then we lock eyes.
“She's a young woman and she's finding her way, Peter. Let her do the nanny gig. And no, Sadie, I don't want any help from your boss. I'd love to have one less busy-body in this house standing over my shoulder, making sure I don't throw a chair through the window again.”
I inwardly wince. It happened last summer, just weeks after I came home. I was the only one home at the time, and I went flying up the stairs, bracing for the worst after hearing the crash.
My heart never beat harder or louder thinking my mother had thrown herself off the balcony attached to the master bedroom.
“Also, I'd love a promise from you, Sadie – don't take this opportunity lightly. Promise us you'll do exactly what you said. Just a few weeks with him, overnight or whatever. You'll check in once a day. Come straight home if there's even the slightest hint of trouble.” Mom's eyes crawl dad's face. She's trying to make him feel better, coaxing this out of me.
Ugh. Despite the edge in her voice, I can't deny the common sense. I nod, looking at my parents, searching for the words. “Fine. I won't let anything get weird. It's just a job. It's not like I'm trying to be the Castoff's best friend, or anything.”
No? Then I wonder why calling him the word Castoff tastes so wrong on my tongue.
“Dear, it's not the nature of the work or the bad blood with Jackson worrying me,” dad says, beginning in his softest voice. “It's Sadie's safety. That man, after what he did...he's clearly a few screws short of a set. I don't trust him.”
“Who isn't these days? It's incredible, really. This town still treats him as an outcast even after he published his apology in the local press. I remember reading it later that year. Seems no one else did. Do we just punish the wild ones forever? Marshal Howard is feral, strange, a little crazy, perhaps, but he's no murderer. He didn't mean to hurt anyone. He simply chose a very colorful way to protest.”