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Vera frowned. “Why would there be a concern about his memory?"
I sighed. Might as well tell her that story, so she'd know what she was getting into. Besides, it's not like she hadn't seen the results of domestic violence working at the hospital.
"After Mom's funeral, Dad beat Glen up pretty bad. I figured it might happen, so I had a friend watch Dad's place, but by the time my friend heard the commotion, Glen already had a concussion and broken ribs."
"That…" she glared at the ground.
"Messed up? Yeah. If Mince weren't there, it'd probably get swept under the rug like all the other times, but with a witness and Glen getting rushed to the hospital, Dad lost parental rights, and I was in town for the funeral, so I got Glen."
For now. After so many years of running from my family, I finally had come to my senses and was doing the right thing. Glen needed my protection. He was getting it a decade and a half too late, but better late than never.
Vera put a comforting hand on my knee. “Alright. No more messing around and trying to complicate things for no reason, then. This custody battle has to be the priority.”
I leaned in closer to her. "I don't think a little kiss is going to hurt anything. Besides, it makes our engagement look a lot more real to everyone else."
Vera hesitated, then, in an uncertain voice, said, “I guess.”
We sat there for a few minutes, quiet, taking in nature. Camping gave me problems that I knew how to solve. Finding a source of water, finding a good place to set up a tent, keeping the food away from bears. This I could do.
Would’ve been better if Glen was here, but maybe we could take him along next time. And Vera—she looked more relaxed, although that was a relative term with her.
“We should head back before the bear comes out,” Vera said as she got up to her feet.
I followed her in silence, walking so close I could smell her flowery scent. Maybe it suited her, after all. She looked like a brooding forest nymph out here.
Stopping, Vera leaned down to pick a bright orange mushroom, her slender fingers delicately plucking it from the ground.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Picking mushrooms," she answered as if there was nothing potentially deadly about that.
“You can’t just pick mushrooms. What if they are poisonous?”
She couldn’t be serious. There was no way in hell I would let her eat some random mushrooms.
“They are not.” Vera rose and walked a few feet, then knelt to pick another one. This time, it was pink. Great. The more different types she picked, the higher the chances of one of them being poisonous.
“Vera, you’re not going to eat those.”
She shrugged and went on, finding a few meatier-looking ones with brown caps. “I’m not hungry right now. They’ll do for breakfast, though.”
Okay, so I’d have to get up before she did and make sure she didn’t poison herself because even if I tossed the ones she had just picked, she could always find more.
