CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
“Aren’t you a vegetarian?” Maverick hollered.
“I won’t eat his tainted meat,” Tom said. “Would turn me into a demon like him.”
I glanced at the other two men, and we all exchanged smiles.
Maverick opened the toolbox and pulled out an electric screwdriver. Then he went to work on unscrewing all the planks so that we could eventually remove the house from on top of the donkey.
It sucked just standing there watching one man work, but there was only one screwdriver.
“Is there a manual one?” I finally asked, searching in the perfectly organized box.
“Si,” Tom said, pointing.
I found two identical Phillips-heads and handed the other one to Jagger.
We had all the planks removed in no time and put them over to the side.
Then, using some canvas straps from the box, Tom bound Pinata’s hind legs and front legs to keep him from trying to get up and kick us, before we each grabbed a side of the goat house and lifted it off the screaming jackass.
It was surprisingly heavy, so I was glad we were all there to help Tom.
Once he knew he was free, Pinata did everything he could to try to get up and run away, but he was bound. Maybe, in hindsight, that wasn’t such a good idea, because now we had to figure out how to untie him without getting a hoof in the face.
“Two men on each side,” Tom said, showing that Maverick and I should take the front legs while he and Jagger took the back. “We will take this idiot to the barn.”
Ah, so we weren’t just going to let him go. He was going into solitary confinement like a proper criminal.
He continued to scream bloody murder the entire time we lugged his squirming, hairy ass across the yard to his enclosure.
I thought I heard something pop in my shoulder at one point when Pinata jerked his body hard to the left, but I honestly wasn’t sure.
I couldn’t hear myself think, let alone my joints grind or pop over the infernal braying.
Tom opened Pinata’s stall, then we tossed him in like a sack of spuds.
Because he owned the beast, Tom said he was the one who needed to go in and risk his testicles and untether the donkey.
Maverick, Jagger, and I stood back, our hands covering our genitals in solidarity as we watched our friend bravely remove the bindings from Pinata’s legs.
He did the front ones first, then, half-standing, half-crouching, he loosened the back one’s enough that Pinata could kick himself free. Tom raced out to the middle of the barn with the rest of us, slamming Pinata’s stall door.
The donkey kicked the sides of his stall and screamed like he was still trapped in the goat house.
“That animal is insane,” Maverick said. “A legit psychopath, I’m sure of it.”
“I haven’t gotten him assessed, but I believe you are right,” Tom said, wiping his sweaty brow. “I hate him. And I don’t usually hate animals.”
“So if we show up one day and you offer us suspicious jerky, we’re supposed to just take it and not ask any questions?” Jagger asked.
Tom nodded. “Si. No questions. Just peace.”
“I think that earned us another beer,” Jagger said.
“Need to put the goat structure back together first,” I said.
They all grumbled in agreement and followed me out toward the goat pen, where we worked until it was dark, reassembling the goat’s jungle gym. By the time we were done, we all wanted another beer, but decided it was too late and we needed to get home.
“Well, this was … interesting and entertaining,” I said, standing on Tom’s front porch. “Thank you for inviting me. Does every Monday night involve donkey wrangling? Because I may need to increase my disability insurance if it does.”
“More often than you would think,” Jagger mused.
Tom held out his hand, and I took it. “Thank you, my friend,” he said.
After all hands were shaken, we climbed into Jagger’s truck and were headed back to the winery.
“How do you think Mabel did?” Maverick asked from the front seat.
“Well, she hasn’t texted me.” I checked my phone. The screen was blank, with no messages or notifications. “So I have to take that as a good sign, right?”
The men bobbed their heads.
“How’re you guys settling into island life?” Jagger asked.
Shrugging, I glanced out the window. “It’s a pretty slow and quiet way of life, that’s for sure.
I think we’re still finding our footing.
I wish Mabel had more social opportunities.
” I scratched my chin. “Though, she’s not a particularly social child to begin with.
So I don’t know if it would make a difference if we were here or in a big city. ”
“It’s tough being homeschooled too, I can imagine,” Maverick added. “Damon asked to be homeschooled because of issues at the high school, but he can be kind of reclusive too. He’s been making more of an effort to get out and spend time with Austin and Marco, and I think that’s helping.”
“Hopefully, Mabel was able to bond with Laurel, Honor, and Sam a bit,” Jagger suggested. “They might be younger, but that shouldn’t really matter. They’re good kids.”
“They’re all really good kids,” I replied. “I can see that. You’ve done an incredible job.”
The guys both snorted and shook their heads. Maverick glanced back in his seat at me. “Not us, bro. We just arrived on the scene earlier this year. That’s all their moms. Those women are warriors.” His gaze turned serious. “Naomi told you their story yet?”
I nodded. “You mean escaping the Christian fundamentalist cult, abusive husbands, and their aunt who helped them get to the island?”
“Yeah. Pretty crazy shit, right?”
“Makes sense why they value their freedom and independence so much,” Jagger added. “And why they are so firm on not needing a man. That we don’t complete them, we just add to what is already whole.”
“As it should be.” Maverick faced forward again. “I like that Gabrielle is strong and fierce.”
“And Raina can be a prickly little cactus, but that keeps me on my toes and adds so much spice to our life.” Jagger chuckled as he took the last corner on the road; the rows of grapevines came into view.
“I actually bought her a cactus when she still hated me because I said it reminded me of her. Strong, prickly, and cute.”
I huffed an amused laugh. “And how’d she take that?”
“She’s a big plant slut—her words, not mine—so it started to melt some of the ice around her heart.”
“Gabrielle is a cheese slut,” Maverick said. “I’m always surprising her with something new from Fred’s Ched Shed. I even signed us up for a cheese-making course when I was first trying to get her to date me and stop making such a big deal about our age gap.”
“What is your age gap?” I asked. We turned into the vineyard; Maverick’s and my trucks were parked under one of the big lampposts.
“She’s forty-one and I’ll be twenty-seven in a few months.
So, fifteen years-ish.” He lifted a bulky shoulder beneath his light-gray Henley.
“But age is just a number. We make it work. I don’t need to have kids of my own.
I love Damon and Laurel like they’re mine.
If you want it badly enough, you figure out how to get it. And I want her badly enough.”
A vortex of uncertainty whipped into a froth in my belly.
Were they going to ask about Naomi’s and my age gap?
It was less than Gabrielle’s and Maverick’s, not that it mattered.
They hadn’t asked my age yet though. Not since Tom asked last week.
I was sure they were all curious. The whole island was.
Jagger parked the truck and turned off the engine. “Well, boys, another successful night keeping a donkey alive who doesn’t deserve to be. Same time, same place, same shenanigans next Monday?”
Maverick and I both chuckled as we climbed out of the truck.
The light was on in the tasting room, and we could see movement through the windows, so that’s where we all headed.
Jagger held the door open for us, and I stepped in to find my daughter sitting at one of the booths wiping bottles with a disposable cloth.
A heavy blanket was draped over her lap, instantly setting off alarm bells in my head.
Naomi stood up from her spot at the booth across from Mabel.
“We had a bit of a panic attack earlier,” she said, lowering her voice.
“But we took care of it.” I glanced at Mabel again, but she was busy with the wine bottles and answering a question Danica had just asked her.
“We did some deep breathing with her, had her label her senses, and Danica got her a weighted blanket. Then Mabel asked for some snacks.” I took in the crackers, cheese, pretzels, and fruit on the table amongst the labels and bottles.
“Wh-what was the panic attack about?” I asked, my fingers twitchy at my sides.
Naomi’s long, slender throat moved on a heavy swallow. “Um … death. Abandonment. Fear of losing you. You might want to have some conversations with her when you get home.”
On the brink of my own panic attack, I stepped away from Naomi and crouched down next to my kid. Mabel turned her head to face me, but didn’t smile. “Mabes, you okay? What happened?”
“Anxiety,” she said plainly. “Over you dying. Over Kyla coming back and trying to kill you. Over me becoming an orphan.” Her tone was flat, and she robotically turned back to focus on wiping the bottles.
I stood up to my full height, feeling less and less in control of my emotions, let alone anything else as the seconds ticked by. I grabbed Naomi’s arm and pulled her over to the side. “You didn’t call me. Why didn’t you call me?”
“She didn’t want to call you. We offered.
Several times. But she said she didn’t want to bother you.
That you need friends and to socialize, and she didn’t want to burden you.
We all quickly said that as her parent you wouldn’t see it as a burden, but she was adamant that we not text or call.
” Her gaze turned serious. “The last thing I want to do is betray your daughter’s trust and go against her wishes. ”
I wasn’t sure how to feel right now.
Should I feel betrayed?