Chapter 7
Millie buzzed around the backyard. Everyone was arriving in a few hours for the Super-Duper Easter Egg hunt and she was so excited. She stood still and looked around all of the trees. She’d set up two tables. Well, Spike had put out the tables but she’d done all the decorating. One table had a pink tablecloth with lots of cane baskets on top.
Those were for all her Little friends to collect the eggs that the Easter Bunny was going to put out. That reminded her . . . she needed to make sure that Spike knew where his costume was. Couldn’t have an Easter Bunny who didn’t look like a bunny.
“That would just be silly, Mr. Fluffy.”
Mr. Fluffy gave her a long-suffering look. He’d already gotten dressed.
“You look so adorable, Mr. Fluffy. Look at you. So cute.” He had a set of Easter Bunny ears on his head and he wore a fluffy white coat that had a rabbit tail resting just above his own tail.
“You can be the Easter Bunny’s helper,” she told him. “But no eating any chocolate. It’s not good for you.”
“Woof.”
Good. He understood.
She glanced over at the other table which was filled with Easter treats. There were cupcakes with bunny faces, cinnamon rolls in the shapes of bunnies, chocolate nests with small eggs in them. Oh and some sandwiches because Daddy had told her that there needed to be something healthy on the plate.
Pfft. Sometimes she didn’t think that Daddy fully understood Easter. He had to get into the Easter spirit.
Think big or go home.
There was also a drinks dispenser filled with pink fairy juice and some cute cups with more Easter eggs on them.
Yep. Everything looked amazing.
Including her, if she did say so herself.
She had on a pale blue dress with Easter eggs stitched along the hem. A pink belt cinched it around her waist. And she’d made her own Easter-themed headband. It had flowers with a little rabbit peeking out. She’d made one for each of her friends too. They were in their baskets.
After being shot, she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to make her own clothes and accessories again. But Spike had hired the best people he could find to help with her rehabilitation. While she had to be careful not to push herself too hard, she was so grateful that she could still create things.
“Baby doll.”
Turning, she smiled at Spike. “Well, Daddy? What do you think? Doesn’t it look awesome? Or should that be eggsome?”
He glanced around. “You’ve done a great job, baby.”
She smiled with delight. “Thanks, Daddy! Are you ready to go pick up Reverend Pat and the others?” She’d finally convinced her friends from Nowhere to start flying here instead of driving all the way. And they’d actually listened this time. Probably due to the fact that Andrey was the only one who hadn’t lost his license yet and no one trusted him to stay on the right side of the road. Or use his brakes.
Reverend Pat had been driving a few months ago and had run off the road. Millie had been terrified after she’d found out that he’d passed out at the wheel. He was all right now, but he was on medication to help with his heart. She still worried about him and the others. They were all getting older and she lived so far away from them.
However, she knew that she could visit whenever she liked and that they were being looked after.
She just hated to think of the day that something might happen to them.
Don’t think about it right now.
Appreciate them while you have them.
“Yep.”
“And you’ll come straight back? Don’t let Mr. Spain talk you into going to the lawnmower shop again.”
That had happened once when Spike was meant to be taking them to the grocery store. They’d been gone for four hours, and by the time they got home, Spike had been the one with the migraine.
Who knew there was so much to look at in a lawnmower store?
“We’re coming straight here. Trust me,” Spike said grimly.
“Goody! I’m so excited! Everyone will be here in about three hours. Okay?”
“Which means you have time for a rest,” Spike said firmly.
“What? No. I don’t need to rest.”
“Yes, you do. Or you’re gonna get too excited and run out of energy before anyone even gets here.”
“That won’t happen, Daddy! And I’ve got too much to do!”
Spike raised his eyebrows, glancing around. “Like what?”
“Um, well, I’ve got to . . . um . . . I have to . . . well . . . I don’t know.”
“Right. Which means that you can come and lie down while I go and get your friends. Come on.” He took hold of her hand and led her inside, then up the stairs.
“Daddy, I really think that a nap will be detrimental to my hunting abilities.”
“Your hunting abilities,” he repeated slowly.
“Uh-huh.”
“What are you hunting?” he asked as he reached her playroom.
“Eggs, of course. Daddy, have you already forgotten what today is?” She shook her head slowly. “Poor Daddy, losing his memory.”
“I haven’t forgotten what today is. I didn’t realize you needed hunting abilities to find Easter eggs.”
“Um, then why would it be called an Easter egg hunt if you didn’t have to hunt?”
Silly Daddy.
“Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
“I usually am, Daddy,” she replied as he had her sit on the bed so he could crouch in front of her to remove her shoes.
“How is a nap going to be detrimental to your hunting abilities?” he asked.
“It’s quite simple, Daddy. Because it will make me all sluggish and sleepy and then I won’t be able to run as fast or sniff out those eggs. Now do you understand?”
“I do. But I can tell you that your nap won’t hold you back.”
He helped her lay down on her bed and pulled a blanket over her.
She yawned as he handed her Chompers. “How do you know, Daddy?”
“Because you won’t be running around. You’ll be walking. And then you won’t miss any eggs. Will you?”
“That sounds like Daddy logic.” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Well, I am a Daddy.”
“Yeah, you’re a tricky one.” She waggled a finger at him. “I’m watching you.”
Spike picked up her pacifier and placed it in her mouth. “I’ll be back soon. Take a nap like a good girl.”
Pfft. Millie was always a good girl.
Where the heck was Spike?
Worry filled her as she checked her watch. People were due to arrive in just less than an hour and Spike wasn’t here yet. Nor were several of her special guests.
Shoot. She should have insisted that they fly into Billings yesterday. But Reverend Pat had wanted to attend the Easter Sunday service in Nowhere. He was no longer an active minister, but he still liked to help the new minister with his duties.
And by ‘help’ she meant that he liked to lecture him on the correct way to do things.
That’s why she’d decided to have her hunt on Monday instead of Easter Sunday. Her friends were staying for a whole week, much to Spike and Mr. Fluffy’s horror.
But they’d deal. For her, there wasn’t much they wouldn’t do.
Millie checked her phone again to see if there had been a delay in the flight coming in. But no, it said it landed forty minutes ago which should have given him plenty of time to get here.
Although she knew that getting her friends to do something was like herding cats. So perhaps Spike was just having trouble getting them all into his car.
Yep. That was it. That’s all that was wrong.
Nothing else.
It couldn’t be anything else.
They might have gone to the lawnmower store again. Mr. Spain could be awfully persuasive.
Except . . . why wasn’t Spike answering his phone?
A sob escaped her. Maybe he couldn’t hear it over Andrey’s loud voice. Or everyone having to yell at Mr. Spain because he couldn’t hear them.
God, she hoped so.
A ping on her phone told her someone was at the gate. Hope flooded her before she realized that Spike would just drive in.
She frowned as she saw a strange car at the gates. Spike would kill her if she let someone in who she didn’t know. It was a large car. Was it someone coming early to the hunt? But most people knew the code.
Then her gaze zeroed in on the person in the front passenger seat.
Was that . . . was it . . . Andrey?
But why would he be in a strange car?
The passenger door opened and Andrey stepped out. She immediately opened the gate remotely. What was going on?
Why wasn’t Spike driving them? Where was he?
A knot developed in her stomach and she rang Spike’s phone again as she made her way around to the front of the house.
It went to voicemail.
Where are you, Daddy?
The car had stopped and a stranger was opening the trunk.
“Hello!” she called out.
“Ahh, Millie!” Andrey cried, opening his arms wide. “We are here! Safe and sound.”
“Safe, yes,” Reverend Pat muttered as he climbed out of the back, then turned to help Mrs. Larsen.
Mr. and Mrs. Spain got out from the other side.
“But some of us are not so sound,” Reverend Pat added.
“Ahh, old man.” Andrey whacked Reverend Pat on his back. “Do not be so hard on yourself. Not all of us can be as good up here as me.” He tapped his head.
“That’s not what I meant,” Reverend Pat said. “You tried to get us here by hitchhiking.”
“What? What is wrong with that?” Andrey asked.
“Guys,” she said, trying to catch their attention. They could do this for hours if she let them.
And she needed to know what had happened.
“It’s dangerous,” Reverend Pat said, his face growing red. “We could have been killed.”
“Pfft,” Andrey said. “As if I would allow that to happen. I could kill this man forty ways with my bare hands. No problem.”
The driver paled.
“Wait. You hitchhiked here?” she asked.
That feeling of dread in her tummy grew.
Where. Was. Spike?
“No, we did not,” Reverend Pat said as the man finished emptying his trunk. “We got an Uber.”
“You guys know how to Uber?” she asked, temporarily distracted from her worries.
“Of course we know how to use Uber,” Mrs. Larsen said with a huff.
“So he’s an Uber driver.” She gestured to the man who was getting back into his car now that everyone was out.
“Yes, of course,” Reverend Pat said.
“We thought that Spike was picking us up,” Mrs. Spain said. “When he didn’t turn up, we decided that we better get our own way here.”
“You . . . what? He didn’t turn up?” Millie was going to pass out. She couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . .
“Millie? Millie!” Someone caught her, lowering her to the ground. She looked up into the concerned face of Reverend Pat, then behind to Andrey who’d caught her.
“Where . . . where is Spike?” she asked, her panic growing.
What happened? Something bad . . . she knew it had to be something bad. Or he’d have been at the airport. He’d be answering his phone.
Her phone started ringing.
Was it Spike?
“Where . . . where’s my phone? It’s ringing. It might be Spike.”
“It’s in your hand, dear,” Mrs. Spain said.
She stared down at her phone, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to make herself answer it.
Millie tried to clear her vision. To make herself read what was written on the screen. But it had gone all blurry.
All she knew was that it wasn’t Spike’s ringtone.
His current ringtone was one she’d found called Big Bad Daddy. It was hilarious.
Answer the phone, Millie.
What if . . . what if something had happened to him? And answering this call made it real?
A sob broke free. Suddenly, her phone was pulled from her tight grasp. She glanced up through blurry eyes at Reverend Pat as he answered the call.
“Yes? No, she’s indisposed at the moment, who is this? Yes . . . yes . . . I’m her . . . father.”
Another sob.
“I will tell her. We’ll be there soon. Thank you.”
“What’s happened?” she asked as tears dripped down her cheeks.
He hesitated.
“Please,” she begged. She’d gone from not wanting to know to needing to. “Just tell me.”
“It’s Spike. There’s been an accident and we need to get to the hospital.”
Oh. God.