Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“They’ll come in handy around here, that’s for sure.”
“He can’t wait to visit the barn,” Maddie said, running her hand over her son’s curls. At first glance, he didn’t appear to resemble his mother much, but when he smiled, I saw her full mouth and the tiny cleft in her chin.
“We can visit the barn any time you want,” I told him.
“Now?” Elliott asked hopefully.
“Sure, if it’s okay with your mom.”
“It’s fine. I suppose lunch can wait a little, as long as you’re not starving.” Maddie sighed, closing her eyes a second. “And I’ve already seen the house. I’m not all that anxious to see it again.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Moretti is going to meet us over there later this afternoon. I just need to call him when we’re ready.”
“Can DiMaggio come to the barn too?” Elliott asked.
“Sure,” I said, happy to hear that Elliott had been given the dog’s correct name. Half the time, my father referred to him as Ruth, our previous dog, who’d been gone for a dozen years. “Dad, you want to come out to the barn with us for a few minutes?”
“Is it time to do the milking?”
“We don’t have dairy cows anymore, Dad.”
“Of course we do. I just milked them this morning.” He rose to his feet. “Let me get my boots on.”
“They’re in the mudroom,” I told him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
Maddie gave me a sympathetic look as we made our way through the kitchen to the mudroom. “I see what you mean.”
“Just wait,” I said quietly. “Has he told any baseball stories yet?”
“No, but he did ask me to take him to the train station. Is that related somehow?”
“That’s how he’s going to get to the game,” I explained with exaggerated patience.
“Does Bellamy Creek even have a train station anymore?”
“Nope. It had an old, abandoned depot, which was moved in like 1980 or something, and it’s now part of the Historic Village. But he doesn’t believe that. So I took him there one time, trying to prove it, and he sat in that fucking museum depot for an hour, baffled that not a single train came by.”
“Did he believe you then?”
I shook my head. “Nope. He said I must have taken him to the wrong place.”
She laughed sympathetically. “You’re very patient.”
“I try,” I said. “Some days it’s easier than others.”
We reached the mudroom, and I dropped to my knees to help my dad get his boots on. A moment later, we were outside in the sunshine, heading toward the red barn. Elliott scampered ahead with DiMaggio, and my dad shuffled slowly but steadily in front of Maddie and me.
“I’ll apologize now for anything he might say that’s off-putting,” I told her. “He doesn’t mean to be rude, but when he gets angry or frustrated, he has no filter. And he’ll probably forget your name every day.”
“That’s okay. I had a talk with Elliott about it. We’ll be fine.” She glanced at me. “I want to be helpful to you while we’re here, Beckett. If that means keeping an eye on your dad, or even just keeping him company, I’m happy to do that.”
“He’ll probably try to get rid of you. He’s fired three perfectly good caretakers,” I said grumpily. “Or driven them to quit.”
“I can handle it,” she assured me.
“You’re also going to be pretty busy with the house.”
She groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m half hoping Enzo tells me it will be cheaper to tear it down and sell the land.”
“He might, but I doubt it. He likes a challenge.”
We watched as Elliott spotted some goats in a paddock on the far side of the barn. He stopped and turned back to us. “Can I go over there?”
“Sure,” I called. “The goats are friendly. But they’re escape artists, so don’t open the gate, okay?”
“Okay!” Elliott ran right up to the fence, and sure enough, a few goats came over to him right away. He looked back at us delightedly and began petting their heads, talking to them.
“He looks so happy.” Maddie’s voice caught with emotion. “I tried to keep him shielded from as much divorce bullshit as I could, but every night I go to sleep hoping I didn’t fuck up my kid.”
“Isn’t that what parenthood is?”
She laughed ruefully. “Sometimes it feels that way. But I want to do better than just keep him fed and clothed and breathing, you know? I want him to grow up confident and joyful and unafraid to be who he is. I want him to know kindness and acceptance, and show it to others. I want him to know unconditional love,” she said fiercely, “the kind I never had.”
I glanced at her, fighting the urge to take her hand. I shoved mine in my pockets instead.
“Oh, look at them.” Maddie laughed softly. “How cute.”
We stopped walking and watched as my dad reached the fence and stood beside Elliott, telling him random facts about the farm and about goats. Elliott stood on the lowest rung of the metal fence and listened with rapt attention, shyly stroking the goats’ heads and necks, doing his best to hug them.