“Sherry was my first mom,” Ava says softly.
“Is that why you told Wren, when she got in the car, that she should go to Heaven’s Spring to get healed?”
“Yeah.”
I pull the car off to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?”
“Right over past those palmettos, in that grove of oaks, there’s a bunch of wild blackberries. Let’s pick some for Lacy.”
Her hand is still on the seatbelt, her eyebrows furrowed. “Do you like Lacy?”
“I love Lacy. Like a little sister.” I tug on a wisp of hair that’s escaped her ponytail. “Like I love you.”
She smiles at the dashboard.
“If the bears haven’t been greedy, and we have extra, we’ll send some home with you so you can make Skye someblackberry muffins. And if you have plenty, you can throw some my way.”
She grins, nods, and hops out of the truck.
“Grab a bucket from the cargo box in the back of the truck,” I call out to her.
She follows me to the grove of trees, swinging the bucket in her hand. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” she says.
“Ask you what?”
“Wren’s secret. How she doesn’t sleepwalk anymore.”
An eastern indigo snake glides across the path, a flash of iridescent blue-black. “Not a lot of those around here anymore,” I tell Ava, who’s stone still now, watching it with wide eyes as it slithers into the scrub.
“It’s pretty. Is it poisonous?”
“Nope.” We continue on, tromping between a clump of palmettos. “If it’s a secret, should you be telling me?”
“I trust you.”
I set the comment and the rush of warmth that comes with it aside. It’s big—Ava trusting me, Ava trustinganyone, after what she’s been through.
“Okay, what’s the secret?”
Ava stops and puts the bucket down. “She has a big dog named Monster.Reallybig. He lies on her legs every night when she’s sleeping, because she thinks he doesn’t like being alone in the dark either. And even though she gets leg cramps because he’s like a hundred pounds, she said it’s worth it because she hasn’t walked in her sleepa singletimesince she got Monster. So, I’m going to ask Mom if we can get a really big dog.” She takes a deep breath and looks at me, waiting.
I bite off a laugh because her expression is so sweetly earnest. “How about I ask Bear if he’ll loan Hilda and Rocky for a few days? One dog for each leg.”
A spark of pure joy flits across her face, then she purses her lips. “I’d have to tie them to my legs to make them stay.”
“True. They don’t like to be too far from the cattle they protect.” Hilda and Rocky, Bear’s livestock guardian dogs, spend most of their time outside. If they’re inside for too long, they get antsy and pace.
“Meatball it is, then. I’ll ask Bear.”
“Would you really?”
“If I say it, I’ll do it.”
“Do you think he’ll sleep on my legs?”
“Meatball will sleep anywhere.” I chuckle. “But you’ll have to see if your Mom’s okay with a big dog lying on you all night. She might be afraid you’ll wake up with pancake legs.”
