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He let out a dry laugh at her lack of response. “Haven, look who I found.”
The woman swung around where she stood in the yard, panic on her face as her hands clutched her swollen stomach. She looked like she was carrying a watermelon under her pink shirt, but the little girl knew it was really a baby—her daddy told her so. A little brother named Nicholas, but she secretly hoped they would be nice and give her a sister instead.
But nice wasn’t a word she would use to describe them. No, they were anything but happy with her right now. A brother it would be.
Yuck.
Her mama let out a deep sigh that seemed to cover the entire clearing, wrapping them all in a sense of relief. “Where was she?”
“In the woods,” he replied, still keeping her locked in place. “She was climbing a big ass tree, as usual. Fell out of the motherfucker, too. She’s lucky she didn’t break her neck.”
She shook her head exasperatedly. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She is your daughter, after all.”
The hand on the girl’s shoulders disappeared seconds before her dad stepped around her, a pair of small pink Nike’s swinging in his hand. She had discarded them in the woods as she ran along the path, preferring to go barefoot. She was like her mama that way. She couldn’t stand to feel restrained. She liked to be free to run and jump and play and climb trees even though Daddy said it wasn’t safe.
Her dad strolled through the yard, kissing her mama quickly before going inside the big three-story house. They had been coming there to Durante every summer since she was a baby, although the girl couldn’t remember those first few years. Usually Uncle Dominic and Aunt Tess came along with her cousin Vinnie, but they took him to a football camp this year, so they wouldn’t make it to visit until later.
Aunt Dia was in town, though, with her new girlfriend. They came by a few times but were staying with other family, so it was just them for now—just her and her parents in the big, old house.
She thought it would be fun, not having to share anything, but it turned out the lack of chaos only led her to get into more trouble by herself.
The little girl still didn’t move from the spot in the yard, firmly rooted in the ground as her mama approached. She wiggled her toes, digging into the dirt, trying to distract herself, and couldn’t stifle the giggle that escaped her lips that time.
Oops.
“What’s so funny?” her mama asked, crouching down in front of her.
She shrugged her shoulders again, head still down, as she whispered, “It tickles, Mama.”
Maura Miranda DeMarco could only be described as a tiny tornado, a ball of energy that couldn’t be tamed. She was tiny, shorter than the average seven-year-old, but her size didn’t impede her at all. She would jump any hurdle, climb any obstacle, and solve any problem in her way. A combination of both of her parents—her dad’s daring personality with her mom’s strong exterior—she had proven to be a force of nature since the day she was born.
Her appearance, though, contradicted her fiery personality. Long lashes framed a set of big green eyes, eyes she had gotten from her dad, while soft waves of brown hair fell into her face. Her pale complexion had a constant pink flush to her round cheeks, splashes of freckles dotting her nose. She looked like a porcelain doll, vulnerable, breakable, when she was anything but.
The girl was tough as nails. If you asked her dad, he would say she came into the world screaming and hadn’t shut up since.
Usually bold and unrestrained, Maura was uncharacteristically quiet as she stood in front of her mama in the yard.
Reaching over, her mom grabbed Maura’s hands and pried her fists open, surveying the bloody scrapes. Wordlessly, she led her into the house, taking her straight to the kitchen and sitting her on the counter beside the sink.
“You know better than to run off like that,” she said quietly, washing out her daughter’s wounds. “We have to know where you are at all times.”
“I forgot,” she said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know, but you have to remember.” Her mama paused, sighing. “It’s not safe otherwise.”
Not safe seemed to be her parents’ favorite thing to say.
“I’m sorry. Really, really, really sorry.” Maura stared at her with wide eyes. “Really, Mama.”
A smiled tugged her lips. “I believe you, sweetheart.”
A throat cleared behind them. Her dad stood just inside the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t know if I believe you. You didn’t throw in enough ‘reallys.’”
“Really, Daddy!” Maura said, nodding so furiously she nearly knocked herself off the counter. “Really, really, times twenty-nine hundred thousand million.”
“And how many is that?”
Maura opened her mouth to reply but only offered silence. She looked to her mama after a moment for an answer. “Mama?”
