Chapter 7 #2
Looking back now, she could see that wasn’t true, but nine-year-olds weren’t exactly known for handling their emotions well, and hers had gone completely haywire the evening Granddaddy had walked into their farmhouse, sat Mila, Lucy, and Remi down, and broke the news that their parents were dead.
Uncle Rex and Aunt Claire had gone to the hospital with Nora, so she didn’t get home until much later that night.
By the time Mila reached adulthood, she was able to reflect on Dad’s words without all those intense emotions coloring them, but by then it was too late. Her personality had been reshaped and reformed, and there wasn’t any going back to the carefree, wild, young chatterbox she’d been.
She loosened her grip and pushed away from Boone, feeling guilty for holding on so tightly for so long.
“Thanks,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that on you.”
Boone cupped her cheek in his large, calloused hand. “You didn’t unload anything that I didn’t ask to hear. Who raised you after your parents’ passing? Rex and Claire?”
Mila shook her head. “We moved in with our grandparents. Not that Uncle Rex and Aunt Claire didn’t help a lot. It was just that they had seven boys of their own to raise, all between the ages of nineteen and nine.”
Boone, bless him, made a horrified face, clearly meant to lighten the mood. It did the trick and she laughed, agreeing when he said, “I can’t imagine having seven kids in ten years. I’ve got one twelve-year-old and she’s putting me through my paces.”
“Aunt Claire says she would have had more, but Uncle Rex put the kibosh on that, claiming seven was more than enough.”
“Was she going for a girl?” he asked.
“She’s always said no. She just wanted a big family.
I think she got whatever girl fix she might have needed from me and my sisters.
She helped Grandma make our prom dresses, she taught us how to French braid our hair, and she put us in the kitchen alongside the boys and made sure we all knew how to cook. ”
“Now I see who inspired your cooking lessons.”
“I was blessed with amazing role models because Aunt Claire is seriously the greatest cook ever, and Grandma taught me everything I know about crocheting.”
Boone rested his arm along the back of the couch, his hand very close to her shoulder. She wished he’d touch her again, cup her cheek or hold her hand. Sadly, he didn’t. “Did you like living with your grandparents?”
“I did. They took us in and worked overtime to make sure we knew we were loved and safe. I can’t imagine acquiring four young girls at their age—Grandma was sixty-seven and Granddaddy was seventy.”
Boone’s eyes widened. “Wow. Yeah. That would have been an adjustment. For all of you.”
“It was fine…for a while.”
“For a while?”
Mila held up her hands. “Oh my God, I swear I’m going to stop now. I don’t mean to keep dumping my tragic past on you.”
She was delighted when Boone reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t stop. I want to hear the rest.”
She could tell he was sincere. She was also strangely grateful to him for listening. She’d kept all of this bottled inside for so long that it felt cleansing to get it out.
“Grandma was diagnosed with dementia when she was seventy-five. I was eighteen and had just graduated. Lucy had been out of school a year. Granddaddy continued to work in the vineyard, and Lucy was ensconced in the brewery with Theo and Sam, so I stayed with Grandma during the day. Then at night, we were all there with her, making sure she was comfortable and safe. A couple years after that, Granddaddy got lung cancer. For a year, my sisters and I took care of the two of them, along with Aunt Claire and Uncle Rex, of course. They died within an hour of each other. Grandma died first, while Granddaddy held her hand, then he passed once she was gone. It was sad, but also kind of beautiful, because I’ve never known two people so much in love. ”
“Jesus, Mila. You give so much.”
“Not at all. They took us in and raised us. And I know it wasn’t easy.
Nora was…” Mila hesitated, unsure how best to describe her sister’s mental state.
“She was messed up after Mom and Dad died. She started stuttering, and that was when a lot of her compulsions began, the extreme organizing, her disdain for even numbers. Grandma took her to see a therapist.”
“Good. I’m sure she needed that.”
“And then there was Remi, running wild. I can’t even count how many hours poor Granddaddy spent searching for her on the mountain because she always took off, forgetting to come home, even after dark.”
Boone smiled sadly. “Not sure that’s changed much.”
“It hasn’t, but I hated it when she didn’t come home on time because I could see how much it worried Grandma and Granddaddy.
Lucy tried to pitch in too. I guess as oldest, she thought it fell to her to help ‘raise the little ones,’ so she played surrogate mom to Nora and Remi as much as they’d let her. Which was basically not at all.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” she asked, confused.
“Were you still a chatterbox?”
Mila licked her lips uncomfortably. “No. I just tried to be quiet. I didn’t want to add to anyone’s stress. Didn’t want to anno—” She stopped short.
“Annoy anyone?” Boone shook his head, and Mila was swamped with misery, feeling as if she’d disappointed him somehow. “Mila. You were a little kid. No one expected you to be perfect.”
“I’m not saying I was. I just…”
“You purposely made yourself small, put yourself in the background.” Boone reached out and placed his hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing nervously.
“I didn’t want to be a burden.”
“They’re your family. They wouldn’t have seen you that way. They love you, Mila. But I wonder sometimes if you’re not still hiding the real you.”
How could he know that? How could he see it when no one else could?
Regardless, this conversation had gotten way too deep, and she needed out before she fell apart completely.
“I told you I should stop.” She gave him what she hoped would pass as a playful smirk.
“Everyone has sad stories in their past. Those were mine. And you’re right.
I’m blessed. My family loves me, and I live on this gorgeous farm, doing work that fulfills me.
Nothing that happened when I was younger broke me.
It just molded me into the person I am today. ”
Boone looked like he might continue the argument that she wasn’t truly being herself, but she didn’t want to talk about that, so she tried to throw him on the hot seat. “I’m sure there’re things that have impacted the man you are today, as well.”
Boone nodded in agreement. “There are.”
“Maybe one day, you’ll share them with me.”
He grinned, taking her hand in his again. “Maybe I will.” He looked at her in a way that not only made her feel seen but, God, cherished. “You’re an amazing woman, Mila Storm.”
Her cheeks grew warm—damn blushing—and she ducked her head at his compliment. “Amazing is probably a bit strong,” she joked, though it fell way short.
Boone scowled, and his grip on her hand tightened. “Amazing isn’t strong enough.”
Her heart raced, thudding loudly in her ears. In what world did she think she could settle for mere friendship with this man? Every word sent her tumbling deeper and deeper. She was falling so fast and hard for him, there was no way she wouldn’t wind up with bruises on her heart and soul.
The silence between them hovered, as Mila tried to figure out where to go from here.
Sadly, Boone made the decision for them. “It’s a nice night. We should take advantage of the break from the cold. How about I walk you home?”
“You don’t have to.” She’d said the same thing after every cooking lesson, though she knew it wasn’t an argument she was going to win.
Boone rose despite her assertion, helping her into her coat before pulling on his own.
They walked over to Sadie’s room, Mila knocking softly before opening the door. “I’m heading home. Night, Sadie.”
“Night, Mila. Thanks for the pizza.”
“You finished your homework, Donut?” Boone asked.
Sadie lifted her notebook and grimaced. “Everything but math,” she grumbled.
“I’ll help you with it when I get back from walking Mila home.”
Sadie nodded, and Mila got the sense that her anger toward Boone was passing. She was glad, because she knew it weighed on him when his daughter wasn’t happy.
They headed out of the cabin and down the dirt road toward her farmhouse. The moon was bright in the sky, just like it was the night of the Valentine’s Dance.
They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Since they were out of earshot of Sadie, Mila decided to ask about today’s argument.
“How long do you think Sadie will stay mad at you?”
He shrugged. “Probably until the trip has come and gone. Shades of the Sadie I thought we’d left behind in Williamsburg reappeared today. The attitude and door slamming.”
Mila laughed quietly. “That was always coming back. She’s a twelve-year-old girl. Believe me when I say, she has not yet begun to fight.”
Boone grumbled a few choice words under his breath, and she laughed harder.
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach,” he joked, sarcastically. “Sadie’s been so good here. So happy. I forgot how tough the fall was.”
“She really didn’t want to move?”
“Not at all. Maybe if she’d been doing well in school and hadn’t been getting into trouble, I might have thought harder about making Williamsburg work for us, but I was desperate to get her away from that Stella girl.”
Boone had mentioned the troublesome Stella a few times, so Mila could understand. “It’s scary how much influence friends can have during middle school and high school.”
“It is. I couldn’t keep watching her go down bad paths.”
The farmhouse was dark as they approached.
“Your sisters already in bed?”
Mila shook her head. “Not here. Levi proposed to Kasi after the Valentine’s Dance.”
“Maverick told me,” Boone said.
“So Nora and Remi are at Kasi’s tonight, diving into wedding planning.”