Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
She let me pull her to my lap, and I wrapped her in my arms. “Why the tears?” I asked, wanting to understand.
She was quiet for a moment, and I allowed her to gather her thoughts.
“I’ve been invisible for so long,” she whispered. “I haven’t been important enough to bother planning something to celebrate my birthday since my parents died.”
“You’re important to me.” I tilted up her chin. “You’ve become the focus for me. I want to celebrate the day. Celebrate you.”
“Okay,” she sniffed. “That would be lovely.”
“Quinn.” I waited until she met my eyes. I wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “Those days are behind you. You aren’t going to be alone anymore. You and Abby are mine. My family will be yours. We will be a family. Hopefully, a growing one. You will never be unimportant again. I swear that to you.”
She buried her face into my neck and wept. I held her tight, letting her tears soak into my shirt. She needed to cry it out. I remembered my mom saying that to my dad about Laura when he’d expressed his worries about her teenage emotions.
“Girls and women sometimes need to cry, dear. It’s our way of letting out the fear and worries we keep inside so we can start fresh.”
So I rocked us, letting Quinn cry out her fear and worry. And when she was ready, we’d start again fresh. I was determined to show her a life where she was important. I’d love her until she forgot about the past and the loneliness and only knew how deeply she was adored.
QUINN
All week, I was excited about the upcoming weekend. The last birthday I had celebrated, there had been cake, balloons, and presents, and my parents and grandparents. I had been a child and filled with excitement and delight. At the foster home, if they remembered, I was wished a good day, and on occasion, Joanne made a dessert I liked, but it wasn’t often. Still, I felt obligated not to complain. And Preston ignored the day after the one dinner. Once, he stopped as he was leaving the house and looked at me.
“It’s your birthday,” he said with a frown.
I shook my head. “Last week.”
“Oh.”
I waited, hoping he would smile and say he’d make it up tonight, but he simply shrugged. “Don’t forget to pick up my dry cleaning.” Then he walked out.
Once Abby was old enough, I’d do fun things with her to celebrate. It was more for her than me, although sharing the day with her made me feel a little better.
But this year, John had taken over the planning, and I had to admit, I was looking forward to the day.
On Thursday, I stopped by the house to pick up a dress I had that would be suitable for dinner on the weekend. Inside, I was startled to feel the cool air greet me as I walked in. I went back outside, surprised to see a new air conditioning unit installed and running quietly.
I returned to the kitchen, perplexed. John hadn’t mentioned the air was fixed. I hesitated, then took the dress I’d picked, plus a couple more outfits for Abby, then headed back to the farm. I saw the tractor in the fields and knew John would have Abby with him. She adored him, and he felt the same way back. I never imagined the man I’d traded barbed words with would ever be the sweet, protective lover I had fallen for so quickly.
In the kitchen, I chuckled at the pile of fresh-shucked corn that sat on the counter. John had mentioned he had a small section of corn ready to pick, so I assumed corn was on the menu tonight.
I knew there was cold chicken, so I put together a nice Caesar salad and decided to grill the corn and serve it with a compound butter. I got it ready, smiling as I heard the heavy footsteps on the porch outside.
The door swung open, and John and Abby came in, both looking hot, tired, and happy. I couldn’t recall my daughter ever looking this happy. She glowed these days. “Hey, you two.”
I was greeted with kisses and hellos, which I was happy to get, although they both smelled a little ripe.
“How’re the crops?” I asked.
“Desperate for the rain that is supposed to come tonight,” he replied, sitting down heavily and accepting the cold water I offered him. “I hope it rains as long and steady as they’re predicting. We all need it.”
“Were you, ah, working in the barn?”
He chuckled. “I was fertilizing earlier. I know I smell. I’ll go shower.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. “Manure, Momma. It helps the plants grow.”
“Ah.”
She nodded sagely. “Cow shit.”
I had to swallow back my laugh. “Abby,” I choked out.
“It is. Farmer John told me.”
I met his amused eyes. “I was explaining it to her. How we reuse things other people would think are useless.”