Chapter 4
4
I make my way out to my truck and throw the manila envelope into the back seat, where I don’t have to look at it during my drive. I loosen my tie, and decide it’s the last time I wear one.
The engine roars to life, a growl that matches my mood.
I think of home, relieved as fuck that I’m headed there now.
I think of Daisy’s laugh, the one that bubbles up every now and then, a pure, perfect sound that makes all the bullshit fade out.
I can admit the sound of Daisy’s laughter is all too rare these days.
Which is to be expected. Her parents just died. She’s a grieving little girl with a world of emotions that she can’t possibly begin to understand or process .
But there should be some lightness, right? She should forget, sometimes, when she’s picking wildflowers, or when she’s digging into one of Ma’s apple pies, or when she’s being served her favorite strawberry sundae at the diner in town.
Most days, I’m going out of my mind, stewing about whether I’m giving her the best life I can and wondering whether I’m good enough for her. I know I can never replace her parents, but I want to be the best possible second option.
Deep down, I’m not sure I’m hitting that mark. Particularly when the nightmares seem to be getting worse. Every time she cries out for her parents, I wipe her tears, read her stories, and do my best to ease her fears. When she sobs like her little heart is breaking, a piece of my own heart breaks right along with it.
I’ve barely made it out into the bumper-to-bumper traffic when my cell phone rings through the Bluetooth. I bought this brand new truck the week after I became Daisy’s legal guardian. To be honest, I prefer my old blue Chevy pick-up truck, which was built before safety standards were a thing and is now parked up in the shed.
Amanda flashes up on the center console.
Fuck.
Just what I don’t need right now.
I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail. But that’s not how you handle family—because that’s what she is now—even when they’re aiming to take a piece of yours .
Amanda Sullivan-Smith is Laney’s older sister. The same older sister who was shocked beyond belief at the reading of the will, when sole custodianship of her six-year-old niece wasn’t given to her.
It was given to me.
Possibly because she’s a card-carrying bitch: Laney’s exact words. The two of them never saw eye to eye. Laney was five years younger than Amanda and was the free spirit of her family. Their father was a preacher, their mother a devout stay-at-home mom and homemaker, because any other option was considered ungodly to them. Jed, a boy from what they considered the wrong side of the tracks, with mischievous blue eyes and a lust for living life to the fullest, did not fall into the category of what they saw as an “acceptable” choice. Laney chose Jed when she was seventeen years old. Her relationship with the rest of her family deteriorated after that and the two of them spent more and more time with us.
Amanda never approved of Jed—who turned out to be far more successful and wealthier than any of the Sullivans.
Jed and Laney knew how to pack the most joy into each day they possibly could. Laney always said Amanda was allergic to joy, or any kind of happiness at all.
I knew well before Amanda did that she was the last person Laney and Jed would have chosen to raise their little girl.
Amanda, however, didn’t get that particular memo. She’s been bitter and twisted about it ever since .
I tap the speaker button with a sigh. “Hey, Amanda.” I make a point of injecting a note of cautious civility into my tone. “I’ve just come out of a meeting, so if you want to speak to Daisy, you’ll have to?—”
“It’s after six,” she interrupts. “Working late again, I see.” Another crime I’ve committed, obviously.
“On my way home now. Daisy was helping my mother and my aunt bake an apple pie when I talked to her an hour ago.”
“Nathan,” she says, and there’s a pause, a deliberate softness there that catches me off guard. Amanda is never soft, or gentle. She’s fierce, cold and very determined. “That’s the whole point here. Your mother. And your aunt. Not Daisy’s own . I know we both want what’s best for her.”
I can hear the restrained urgency in her voice, the unspoken plea of someone who isn’t ready to back down but knows they’ve hit a wall. So she’s trying a different tack.
She’s hired a team of lawyers, which I’m sure is costing her an arm and a leg. More than she can afford. We both know she doesn’t stand much of a chance. Laney and Jed’s will couldn’t have been clearer in its wording. They stated in no uncertain terms that they wanted me to become Daisy’s legal permanent guardian if anything happened to them.
As much as I disagree with Amanda, I understand her concerns. She does want what’s best for Daisy, like we both do, and Amanda is convinced I’m neglecting Daisy because I work so much.
I can’t entirely blame her for that .
“Amanda, I get it. Laney was your sister. I’m sure I’d have some of the same concerns if the tables were turned. But we have to remember that this arrangement is what Laney and Jed wanted for Daisy. The court isn’t going to side with you on this one. Not when the lawyers confirmed that their wishes were so clearly stated.”
I hear her bristle through the phone. “You might be winning for now, Nathan, but Daisy is a Sullivan, whether you like it or not. She belongs with her family . The judge will see that soon enough.”
Laney once told me that Amanda was always jealous that Laney had a daughter. Amanda had sons. According to Laney, they don’t get along with their mother at all and have always preferred their father.
Maybe Amanda saw the death of her sister as her last chance to have a daughter of her own. I hope Amanda doesn’t see it that way, but I can’t help but wonder. Either way, it’s not happening.
I rub a hand over my jaw. I’m still two years off thirty, but I feel a decade older tonight. “Laney and Jed obviously thought of the Boones as family too, Amanda. Daisy has spent half her life on the farm. She loves it there. It’s a big part of her family legacy, we both know that. She knows it. She remembers her parents being there. We talk about her memories of them all the time.”
“Be that as it may, blood is thicker than water. You are like an uncle to her, Nathan, no one’s saying otherwise. But Daisy has a whole family eager to welcome her home. ”
There’s a flicker of something like guilt that flares up inside me. It’s true, after all. Daisy does have a family beyond the boundaries of Sugar Mountain.
But Laney and Jed loved the farm, and they thought of my family as their own. Jed and I met the first day of high school and from that day, he spent most of his time at our place. Jed was an only child and the farm was a hell of a lot more fun than his small rundown house in town.
When Laney and Jed got together in eleventh grade, she started coming along with him.
As soon as they could afford to, they bought a small property across the road from Sugar Mountain Farm. They spent Easters, Thanksgivings and Christmases with us. When Daisy was born, she was welcomed into our family like one of our own.
It was no surprise to me that they wanted Daisy to be raised on the farm. Not flown to Ohio, where Daisy has never even been, to live with an aunt she’s only met a handful of times.
I happen to know Laney could barely stand to spend time with Amanda, and she thought Amanda’s husband Derek was insufferably dull. She complained that their two teenage sons spent most of their time gaming, which Laney always thought was a colossal waste of time. Especially when you could be swimming in the lake, swinging on the rope swing or going on hayrides.
“I know you won’t stop fighting this,” I say, my voice steady. “And believe it or not, I respect that. But I won’t stop fighting it either, Amanda. Daisy’s where she needs to be. With me. With people Laney and Jed loved like their own.” More than their own, I don’t bother mentioning. “Now, I’m going home to have dinner with Daisy, my sister, my brothers, my mother, my aunt and my uncle, who all adore Daisy and who are pouring all the love they possibly can into every day with her. Just like I am.”
“I’ll also mention that I’ve communicated my concerns to my lawyers about your…lifestyle.”
Here we go. “What lifestyle?”
“I took the liberty of googling you. As is my right in a situation like this. I don’t know if you’re aware, but a number of… women have posted about you. Online.”
Shit. “What women.”
“The ones you occasionally go out with and apparently spend the night with.”
Damn it.
Laney was actually the one that saw it. She and Jed had a good laugh about it. It was probably a year and a half ago. A woman I met at a local fundraising event who happened to be some kind of “influencer” posted a photo of her and me on her social media. I give money to a bunch of different local groups and the town paper asked for a photo of me at their event. She insisted on standing next to me. I’m not proud of it—and it turned out to be a terrible mistake—but I went home with her that night. I can’t even remember her name.
She later posted the photo, with a caption along the lines of: Turns out the hot country boy is a well-h#ng superhero on steroids in the s@ck. If you see this, Nate Boone, freaking call me, you sexy beast .
Or something like that. I never heard the end of it from Laney and Jed.
She wasn’t the only one. There was the woman I went out to dinner with the night the accident happened. Who’s been hounding me ever since and who might also have posted something. I have no idea.
But, hell, all that was before I became Daisy’s legal guardian. I’m single and have been for a very long time for reasons I’m not going to analyze right now. But I never signed up to be a monk.
“That happened a long time ago, Amanda. A year or more before Daisy came to live with me. Which makes it none of your concern.”
“Be that as it may, the lawyers did agree with me that it’s concerning that there isn’t…well, a traditional family unit. You’re a single man who apparently…plays the field. And you work long hours. It’s not exactly an ideal situation for a child who recently lost her parents.”
Her words sting, because they’re not entirely untrue. “I’m doing my best,” I say, the defensive edge in my voice betraying my frustration. “I’ve cut back on my hours. Daisy’s well-being is my top priority. She also has a close-knit family and community who will do anything for her. I’m doing everything I can to try to make sure she’s happy.”
“I’m sure you are, Nathan. But the fact is, it may not be enough. My lawyers are in touch with the social workers and I’ve been told they’ll be making their decision within the month.”
“I’ve been told that too. So we’ll be in touch.” I’ve had enough of this tonight. “I hope you have a great night, Amanda. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon. Goodnight.”
I end the call before she can fixate on more of my flaws.
I love Daisy with my whole damn heart, but whenever Amanda calls, her comments dig into me like sharp claws. She’s a wife and mother with two kids of her own. She could give Daisy a conventional family unit. Cousins to grow up with. A mom and a dad. Not the setup I’ve got back at the farm, with my hodgepodge of siblings and my mother and aunt taking turns looking after Daisy, with me working six days a week. Doing our best to make it work.
That kid deserves the best, and there’s an insistent part of me that wonders if that happens to be me.
I drive along for a while, grateful when the city lights are fading in my rearview mirror.
My phone rings again through the Bluetooth.
To my relief, it’s not Amanda calling back. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
I press the answer button. “Nate Boone.”
“Mr. Boone, good evening.” Another uptight-sounding woman’s voice. “My name is Ainsley Beal and I’m a social worker for the state.”
“Social worker?” My people skills are at an all-time low right now but I make a point of toning down my gruffness. “What kind of social worker?”
“Children’s welfare. Amanda Sullivan-Smith just called me. At her insistence—and it’s not unusual in these types of cases—the court has ordered a home visit by the Child Protection Agency to your place of residence. To make sure Daisy’s situation is as optimal as possible.”
Optimal. “Okay.”
“Mrs. Sullivan-Smith feels it’s necessary, and we agree. If you’re unwilling to comply, Mr. Boone, the judge will take that into consideration as he considers Daisy’s case.”
“I’m more than happy to comply. Visit whenever you want. When did you want to come by?”
“These are unannounced visits, Mr. Boone.”
“Oh. Right. Well, Ms…”
“Beal.”
“Ms. Beal, I invite you to come by any time you want. Ideally, you’ll choose a time when Daisy and I are home.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that your extremely full work schedule is an issue.”
“Everyone has to work, Ms. Beal. Even you.”
“Indeed. Except those fortunate stay-at-home mothers who can dedicate all their time to their children and their home, as Mrs. Sullivan-Smith continues to point out.”
Jesus. “I’d prefer not to be this petty, but since Amanda is playing dirty, then I’ll meet her halfway. Are you also going to be visiting Amanda’s house? Because you might want to check in on the welfare of her own children, who game too much, are medicated, and are struggling in school because their brains have been taken over by their addiction to dopamine. Daisy wouldn’t thrive in an environment like that. She deserves better.”
“And you feel like you’re able to give her … better?”
“I sure as—...yes. All I ask, Ms. Beal, is that you consider Daisy’s happiness the most important thing. She doesn’t know her aunt. Except for the funeral, Amanda hasn’t been out here once to see how her niece is doing. She hasn’t called her, or me, to check in on how Daisy is doing.”
“Noted, Mr. Boone. This isn’t personal, I might add. I know it’s what Daisy’s parents wanted, but that doesn’t mean that your home is automatically the best place for her. We do have to consider the fact that you’re a single man who lives alone. In cases that are contested like this one, judges do often side with the party who offers a more traditional family environment.”
“My family is very close-knit, Ms. Beal, and Daisy has a lot of good people making sure she’s safe and happy and well-cared for at all times.”
“We’ll take note of all that during our visit.”
“As I said, you’re more than welcome to come by any time.”
“Good. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Boone.”
“Of course.”
“You can expect a visit in the coming weeks.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Like a hole in the head.