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“Oh.” I perk up at the idea I can do something that doesn’t include sitting on the hot Vegas asphalt begging for change. “I can put the books away.”
“I don’t want you lifting anything.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.” I narrow my eyes.
“Daddy, we’re going to be late.” Sophie’s voice echoes from the garage.
“Fine, you can put some books away. Please be here when I get home.”
I just smile. With the bar so low, I can bust into his bedroom, take a nap in his bed, rearrange all his drawers, and he’ll be relieved I didn’t leave.
When his silver Benz pulls away, and the garage door closes, I’m struck with feeling so alone, it cripples me for a moment.
Pressing past the emptiness, because I’m going to have to get used to it, I take my tea and head into the library.
Boxes are stacked on a long, handsome table in the center of the room under an iron and mesh hanging light.
Katya…
She loved to read. What did I do, leaving her in Astoria all alone?
I have to believe if anything bad happened to her, Cormac would have known, since he and Darragh spoke occasionally.
Darragh flew back to Astoria to see his mother over the summer. Cormac would have said something to me, even just to torment me.
Sweet Katya… She’s a college senior now.
Hopefully she’ll get a position with a dance troupe and leave Astoria forever. Maybe find her mother.
It’s November.
I’ve been gone for over two years.
The smell of freshly carved wooden bookshelves strikes me with a memory of home…with Papa. In his library.
But it’s his yelling and his cruelty that echo inside me.
I back out of the library, bad memories triggering me.
Darragh will understand if I don’t put the books away.
I go back into the kitchen to make another cup of tea, something with chamomile to calm my nerves. But they get cranked up when I glance at that peg by the back door and see the pink and white knapsack.
Sophie’s EpiPen!
My heart pounds, and I drop the mug. Ceramic shards lay scattered all around my bare feet.
Damn it!
Darragh left at least fifteen minutes ago for the party without it. Where the hell is this party?
The fridge. I bet the invite is on the fridge.
I step over the shattered mug, and sure enough, a yellow party invitation is pinned to the fridge door under a magnet.
Celebrate with your creativity for Morgan’s Birthday at Soundly Paints on Fenwick!
Only, I don’t know where that is. Or how far it is from here.
