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This is why I usually stay out of people’s business.
I hold a hand up. “Not taking sides. Just sayin’.”
“Yeah, well, this is messed up.” He trudges away from me. “I gotta think about this.”
Good, because I need to check on Olivia.
I’ve seen her cry before, but now that we’re closer it feels different. Worse. All I want is to try to get a smile back on her lips.
I hustle toward the yurt.
At the front door, I reach out to pull the flap. But before I even touch it, the velcro fasteners make a scratchy sound as they come free, and then Olivia bursts through, eyes still watery. “Where’s Blue?”
A sinking feeling settles in my gut.
I want to make her feel better, but now I’m pretty sure I’m about to make her feel a whole lot worse. “I thought he was inside…”
She peers past me, left and right. “But—but you were supposed to watch him!”
“He’s not a kid,” I say. That doesn’t sound right. “I mean, he is a kid, but he’s not an actual—you know what I mean. I figured he’d be fine for a few minutes while I caught up with Trent.”
She ducks back into the yurt.
I follow. Across the way, not far from that darn macrame wall hanging, there’s a patch of blue. It’s bright. Dazzling.
Uh oh. It’s a view of the sky outside.
There’s a hole in this yurt’s wool-and-canvas wall, in the space between the wooden lattice crossings.
A hole with uneven, scalloped edges, about the size of Blue’s mouth.
A hole big enough for a baby goat to get through.
“Did he get out?” I ask.
“Yes, he got out!” Olivia says frantically, as she pulls off her ankle boots. She yanks a pair of running shoes from the lineupby her bed and laces them up. “Shoot. Do we even have any food here? Oh, wait! I brought cookies.”
She rummages in her suitcase. “Emergency cookies.”
“What are you going to do, try to tempt him with Oreos?”
“No, these are for me. Calories, for dinner. So, I don’t collapse or anything if I get far away.”
I shake my head and rub my temples. “Olivia, slow down. You can’t—”
She tucks the cookies in her red leather purse. “I can, and I will. He’s in danger out there, especially when night falls. Hopefully he didn’t go far.” She hot-foots it to the door.
So, she’s heading out for who knows how long, with nothing but a purse full of Oreos?
Nope. I can’t let that happen.
“Hang on. Let me pack a few things. I’m coming with you.”
Chapter 17
Olivia
The day I threw those two concert tickets in the trash, I decided never to call Beryl Scott “Mom” again.
