Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“You had an upset tummy yesterday, Miss Moore, how is your tummy today?”
Even Montana looked surprised that Anya was aware of it. “It's okay. I’m fine,” she said. “I wouldn’t have come over otherwise. I would have stayed home and used Tolstoy as my hot water bottle.”
Anya laughed uproariously. “Why didn’t you bring him?”
“He doesn’t like leaving the ranch. In fact, he generally doesn’t even like people.”
“Doesn’t he like me?”
“Oh no. He let you fall asleep with him in your arms. That means he LOVES you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She turned eagerly to me. “Daddy, when can we go see Tolstoy again?”
“Why don’t you ask Miss Moore,” I said casually.
“You’re welcome any time, Anya,” Montana said with a smile.
“Did you hear that, Daddy? Miss Moore said I can go any time to Shadow Wolf Ranch.”
“I heard,” I said dryly. “Wine?” I asked Montana as I headed over to the fridge to grab a bottle.
“Actually. I’ll stick to cranberry juice along with Anya.”
“Okay.” I poured her a glass and handed it to her. “Tour first or food first?” I asked.
She didn’t have to think. “Food first, definitely. I skipped lunch because I knew I was coming here, so right now I am starving.”
“Excellent choice because everything is ready,” I said and began to carry the dishes out to the table on the patio.
As soon as the food was put on the table, Anya and I were ready to tuck in, but Montana stopped us in our tracks with her request. “Do you mind if we say grace?”
“Sure,” I said. “We can say grace. Why don’t you do it?”
Montana smiled and put her hands out to us. I placed my hand in hers and Anya, who learned about saying grace for the first time when we went to Shadow Wolf Ranch, put her hands in both of ours. I closed my eyes and assumed she had too.
“Bless us, oh Lord, for these gifts that we’re about to receive from thy bounty through Christ, our Lord. Good bread, good meat, thank you, Lord. Let’s eat. Amen.”
We all dived into the meal. I watched with amusement as Montana waxed lyrical about the deliciousness of the steak.
“It's perfectly done,” she declared.
“The secret is browned butter,” I said.
“Whatever it is, I love it.”
“What about the potatoes?” Anya asked.
I laughed. My daughter was so endearing. She had peeled the potatoes and now she wanted credit for that.
“They are especially delicious,” Montanna said. “Did you make them?”
“I peeled them all,” she announced proudly.
I stared at her. She was wearing the most brilliant smile on her little face. And suddenly, I realized, my daughter was never happy in New York. I’d never seen her like this. Here was where she was thriving.
We ate in silence after that, simply enjoying the meal. At some point, I looked out at the garden in front of us and I knew; Anya was right. We should have ducks. And we should have the vegetable garden that she wanted too. I could see the three of us creating it together. I felt stable. I felt hopeful, and I felt happy.
I turned to Montana. “What kind of plants, flowers, and vegetables do you recommend for us here?”
“Only Anya can answer that. Anya, last week we taught you how to grow tomatoes in the greenhouse, starting them as seedlings and taking care of them until you harvest them. Next week you will learn about even more plants. So …” she turned to me. “I think you should let Anya pick the garden she wants herself.”
“I’m cool with that,” I said.
“As for flowers … um… what are your favorite flowers?” She frowned, then smiled. “I remember now. You mentioned tulips in class.”
Anya went still and looked down as if she had committed an offense, and I instantly understood why. It wasn’t that she particularly liked tulips, but they were her mother’s favorite flowers. It made me wonder as I watched her if this was the key to why she was so wounded and sad at night. During the day she was occupied with all kinds of new activities, but at night she was missing her mother. It hurt me immensely that I wasn’t enough to fill that void, but there was nothing I could do. It was her mother who had decided to leave us.
“We can get the tulip bulbs online,” Montana said, unaware of the undercurrents between my daughter and me. “I’ll instruct you on how to grow them. Together we can build a layout and plant exactly what you need and love.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Truthfully, I don’t really enjoy growing vegetables,” Montana suddenly said.
Both of our heads shot up.
“This is a secret, Anya,” she told my daughter and placed a finger against her lips. “Don’t tell anyone. Promise?”
Anya gazed at her, her sadness forgotten, her eyes shining with curiosity. “You don’t?”