Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
I drip oil onto a rag and swipe it over my wrench, staring up at the photo of Bri pinned on the wall. Weirs Beach, 2004. Caught forever smiling and squinting at me with her little nose crinkle. Her long hair damp and tousled under a funky straw hat, the water behind her. I kissed her just seconds later. The last time I tasted fried dough and powdered sugar was on her lips.
“I miss you,” I say softly, touching my finger to her cheek in the photo. “I wish you were here.”
I could unscrew the cap off the whiskey bottle, pour the liquid over my tongue, succumb to the burn and the blur. Bri will come out of the shadows. I’ll see her and hear her, and—
“I’m back.”
Goose bumps erupt over my arms. My hand freezes on its way to the bottle as I turn my head toward the barn door. Like a kid caught in the cookie jar, I quickly pull my hand back.
“Hey there, Miss Penny Rose.”
Smiling, she reaches up and straightens the white wool beret balanced on top of her mane of fiery-red ringlets. “I told you I’d come back,” she says.
I grin at her. “And here you are.”
“Here I am, Alex.” Her green eyes hold mine like magnets. The corner of her mouth tips slightly into a subtle, mischievous smile. “Who were you talking to?”
“No one.”
Arching an eyebrow of doubt at me, she skips across the room, grabbing an empty bucket on the way. I watch, dumbfounded, as she plops the bucket next to me, bottom side up, and uses it to climb up on the workbench. She sits on the edge, swinging her feet—clad in the tiniest pair of suede work boots I’ve ever seen.
“This is better,” she says. “Now we’re on the same level.” She points to the bottle of Fireball. “Were you going to drink that? It looks old.”
I chuckle. “I was thinking about it.”
“There’s dust all over it. It probably doesn’t taste very good.”
“There’s no dust on the inside. Does your mother know where you are?”
Her shoulders rise almost to her ears. “She’s busy on the computer. She works from home and I’m not supposed to bother her.”
“You really shouldn’t be out alone. You’re just a little girl.”
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. “No, I’m not. I came through the path in the woods, with the trees and the moss. It’s just like being in the backyard.”
“No, it’s not. You’re too little to be walking through the woods and a big field by yourself. The weeds are taller than you.”
She pushes her lips together, nostrils flaring like a pissed-off bull. “I’m not little. You said I could come back and see the elefunt.”
I try not to laugh at her pronunciation. “Yeah, but not all by yourself. You should’ve asked your mom to bring you.”
“But I like doing things by myself.”
Me too, I agree silently. Me too.
“Just stay away from the lake, okay?”
There’s a small lake on the other side of my property with an old deck and a wooden swing. Me and Bri spent countless hours there, under the blazing sun and the glow of the moon.
“Okay,” Penny says.
Somewhere in the muddle of my mind, a voice is telling me I should take her home immediately. But another voice reminds me this isn’t my problem. If Penny wants to sit here and talk to me, well, I’m not going to stop her. It’s not my fault her mother’s a flake and doesn’t know her offspring is wandering around the neighborhood, hanging out in a barn with depressed artists. If I can train my dog to stay on my property, then she should be able to do the same with her kid.
Swiveling her head around like an owl, Penny asks me where the elefunt is.
I slide the wrench onto its hook on my wall o’ tools. “It’s in the other room where I keep all my supersecret finished projects.”
“Can I see?” she asks excitedly.
“I don’t know…” I say, not looking at her. “I’m not sure if you can handle how awesome it is.” I glance sideways at her as I twist the cap on the bottle of oil. “Your head might explode… pieces of your brain will fly everywhere.” Her eyes widen like tiny saucers, and I shake my head sadly. “And then I’ll have a big mess to clean up.”
Giggling, she kicks my hip with her miniature boot. “That’s not funny.”
“You’re right. It’s serious stuff.”
She swings her feet faster. “Please let me see?”
I tilt my head and pretend to think about it. “You promise not to climb on it or tip it over?”
She looks slightly wounded. “Of course not. I’m not stupid, Alex.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid. I’d never say that to you. I just want you to be careful.”
“I will be. I promise.” She holds her arms out to me. “Can you help me down? Please?”