22
GWEN
Delilah and I talked a bit more, but before long, she was dozing off. I got her a blanket and shut out the light.
I wasn’t so lucky. After lying in bed for close to an hour, almost certain I wouldn’t fall asleep on my own, I stepped out the rear door and took a few puffs. Like magic, I drifted to a dreamless sleep as soon as I went back to bed.
Delilah was gone in the morning. She texted me saying she had a job interview in town, but she was grateful for the conversation. As was I.
She was so young, with so much life ahead of her. What would my life have looked like if I had been smart enough to leave my ex at the age she had?
By 9, I was at work, decorating cakes. At 1, I took my lunch. Sebastian met me as planned. In my mind, it was a nice respite. A break from the anxiety of what Edwards could find when he dug deeper into David’s case.
More than once, however, Sebastian asked me if I was okay. I kept telling him I was. And that was true. Sitting across the table from him, sipping coffee and eating sandwiches together, eased my racing mind. I felt perfectly fine. Perfectly myself.
With Sebastian, life was easy. I didn’t need to think and stress and obsess in his presence. Sitting with him was like popping a pill whose effects read: peace, quiet, comfort, simplicity.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t worry. Everything was just okay. Any time we sat across from each other in this café, or beside each other in his truck, or his name lit up my screen, peace washed over me.
More and more often, I craved that feeling. I was becoming addicted to it.
I was no longer afraid of it. Those butterfly wings were more like a massage now.
A blanket apology seemed to do its job. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I said. “Just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Apparently accepting that as answer enough, the conversation progressed. The one today wrapped up with him reminding me of my lesson with Lizzie tomorrow.
Of course, I told him I would be there.
“Maybe we can do something after?” he asked.
No way I’d turn that down. I told him I couldn’t wait, and I meant every word.
But life resumed. He had work, so did I, and unfortunately, that was the rest of my afternoon.
When I got home, I shot Delilah another text. Usually, I wasn’t the greatest at reaching out to friends. Sure, I’d killed for one of them, but suggesting spending time together? As though I was the one who neededtheirsupport? I would never.
But Delilah had needed a friend last night. Maybe she needed one now too.
She responded, asking if she could come by. I agreed. When she arrived, she was in much better shape than she had been the night before. Cheerful, giddy, maybe even a bit silly.
This place was starting to feel like home to her. Which was exactly what the ranch was founded on. Delilah and I had formed a bond of some kind, and as an unspoken rule, it was my responsibility to welcome her into our community.
While we were cooking dinner, Simone called. Her tone was casual, only asking if I had plans for dinner yet. When I told her that Delilah and I were already cooking it, she asked if she could come over as well. Obviously, I said she could.
She arrived a little while later with Junie at her side. As Simone and Delilah worked on the spaghetti, Junie and I got down to business with some cookie dough. She was a sweet kid, with brown pigtails that reached her shoulders. Today, her full cheeks were covered in two blue and purple butterflies. Normally I struggled to get more than a few words out of her, so I was surprised when she raved about how Mommy did them this morning for some event at school. Since Simone was so bubbly and energetic, one may have thought that her daughter would be similar. She was not.
After we ate, Junie cuddled up on the couch with her chocolate chip cookies and a book from the library at school.
I wondered if she knew. Simone had mentioned that she was careful to take her makeup off after Junie was in bed and to apply it before she woke up. She had also made the decision not to bring up the phone call Junie had made in the nurse’s office at school.
But did Junie have any idea? Was there some small part of her that knew her father had come back?
Did a part of her know he was gone for good?
Did she live each day fearing that her father would find her again? She’d been young when they’d left him, but Simone said Junie still had nightmares about him from time to time. That little girl had not forgotten the monster who’d donated his DNA to her existence.
Would it give her comfort to know he was dead? Would those nightmares cease?
