Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
The House
Archer and I were cuddled up on the couch, Mildred nestled on my lap underneath a blanket. The gas fireplace was roaring, and Lenni was already asleep upstairs.
“Careful.” Archer touched the frown between my eyebrows. “It’ll freeze that way.”
My brow smoothed out and I smiled.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Homeschooling Lenni.”
He blinked. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“Is it because of what Muddy said?”
“Partly. But I don’t know. She’s an active kid.
She likes horses. She likes the outdoors.
Being stuck inside at a desk for eight hours .
. . that’s kind of a nightmare for a kid like her.
She likes to read and loved helping Poet in the store.
I think she could learn so much more about real life if she wasn’t stuck in a traditional school setting. ”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “But who’d homeschool her?”
“Me, of course.”
“You.”
I nodded. “Morning study. Done with that by noon. Afternoons free to explore, ride horses, garden when the weather’s right. Muddy knows everything about everything. Hell, even I would like a crash course in what she knows.”
“You’ve really thought about this.” He scratched his jaw. “I mean, if Lenni wants that, then sure, why not?”
I smiled. “It means more afternoons spent together as a family, too. You get that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I put that together.” He settled his hand on my belly. “She does love horses, doesn’t she?”
“She does.”
“You think she’d want to learn some farrier skills?” he asked. “Not just ride the horses and feed them?”
“I think if you’d be willing to teach her, she’d love to learn.” I bit my lip. “It would give you both some much needed time together.”
He sighed and shook his head. “God damn.”
“What?”
“You’re just . . . I didn’t even know I needed you, Wyn. And then one day you’re just there and I can’t imagine what life was even like before you.”
I smiled. “Yes, Archer, I’ll marry you.”
“Woman,” he said with a laugh. “That’s not a proposal. I’m gonna call your father and talk to him first and ask for his blessing.”
“You just talked to him.”
“No, he railed at me. That’s not the same thing.” He grinned. “Now I’m speaking to him with a purpose.”
“No telling my parents I’m pregnant. They’ll think you’re marrying me just because of that.” I swallowed. “You’re not, right? You’re not that selfless?”
“You beautiful, perfect idiot,” he said with a wry smile.
I grinned. “Yeah, I thought so. I just wanted to hear it.”
“Hear me call you a beautiful idiot?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Mildred turned her head and nuzzled her snout underneath Archer’s hand.
“Someone’s jealous,” I commented.
“She just wants one good rubbing before we let her out for the night.” He looked at me. “You really think Lenni’ll keep it a secret that you’re pregnant?”
“I think there’s a very good chance that she’s the best secret keeper of us all.”
A few days later, Lenni was at the kitchen table, nose pressed into a math textbook. She was in the middle of an equation, attempting to write with her left hand, when the doorbell rang.
“I’ve got it,” I said, drying my hands on a dishrag and bringing her another cookie that had recently come out of the oven.
“You’ll spoil my dinner,” she said but then grinned.
“Dinners are meant to be spoiled,” I remarked. “Sometimes.”
I looked through the peephole and saw a man in a delivery uniform standing on the porch. I opened the door.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey there,” he greeted. “I’ve got a delivery for Lenni Murphy.”
“Lenni,” I called out. “You got a delivery.”
Lenni came up next to me. “I’m Lenni.”
The man looked at her and then back at me and then handed me his tablet. “Sign on the line for her, please.” I signed the tablet and then the driver took it back and then went to his delivery van and opened a large sliding door.
Six boxes in the hallway later, the door was closed and Lenni and I stared at the pile.
“Nancy sent your stuff, I’m guessing?” I asked her.
“I think so, yeah.” Concern flashed across her face.
“You want to open them? Or you want to wait?” I asked.
She nibbled her lip. “I think I want to open them.”
Nodding, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors and began slicing the boxes open. They were full of Lenni’s warm-weather clothes that she’d probably already outgrown. Picture frames of Lenni and her mom throughout the years. A box full of her mother’s sweaters.
Lenni reached out and touched one, her hand shaking with emotion.
Another box with Christmas decorations.
We’d cut down a tree and it was in the living room, currently naked of adornment—the three of us had planned to spend an afternoon shopping for decorations, but now . . .
“These are perfect for our tree,” I said to Lenni, reaching into the box and pulling out a popsicle stick ornament.
“No.”
She attempted to snatch the ornament from my hand, but it dropped into the box. It broke on impact, and a sob escaped Lenni’s throat. Without a word, she rushed up the stairs and then a moment later, her door slammed shut.
Mildred woofed from her dog bed and then ran after Lenni. Her collar jangled as she made it up the stairs and she pawed at the door. It opened and closed almost immediately.
I sighed and took out my phone and opened it to the group chat.
Me
Boxes of Lenni’s childhood stuff just showed up including Christmas decorations. She ran upstairs crying.
Hadley
Tell us what you need.
Me
I think I need to leave her to her feelings just for a bit before I check on her. Let her have them in privacy. But idk. help
Salem
I’m on my way.
Poet
I’ll be there in a bit.
Hadley
Salem and I will carpool.
I set my phone aside and breathed a sigh of relief. It really did take a village to raise a child.
Even though I wanted to pour through Lenni’s childhood, I closed up the boxes and scooted them out of the main walkway.
Salem and Hadley arrived twenty minutes later; their cheeks flushed with cold.
“Sorry, we would’ve been here sooner, but Mom over here made me go the speed limit,” Salem said with an eye roll.
“It’s fine,” I said with a sigh. “Just waiting for Poet anyway. Tea?”
“Sounds good. Are those cinnamon cookies?” Hadley asked, eyeing the baking sheet with longing.
“Yes,” I said as I began to fill the kettle.
“Got any mustard?” she asked.
“Oh God, you’re kidding, right?” I laughed.
“Sure, I’m kidding . . .”
I sighed. “Chipotle mustard’s in the fridge.”
“Diabolical,” Hadley said.
“Your kid is gonna come out so damn weird,” Salem teased.
“Let’s hope,” Hadley said. “I don’t want a boring kid.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Probably Poet,” I said. “Salem, you mind?”
“Nope.” She waddled toward the front door.
Poet came into the kitchen, carrying a brown paper bag with her bookstore logo on it. “I brought Lenni a young adult fantasy novel that’s highly underrated.”
“You’re the best,” I said.
Lottie trotted into the kitchen, her little tail wagging.
“Mildred will be very happy to see her.” I stared down at the pig and smiled. “Why didn’t you bring Tempest and Fig?”
“Fig was too busy eating her vole-ony sandwich,” Salem said. “She caught another one.”
“Her new name needs to be Vole-demort.” Hadley grinned. “And Tempest was too busy being spoiled by Muddy. Didn’t have the heart to interrupt.”
“Let me see if I can coax Lenni down,” I said. “Watch the kettle.”
I headed up the stairs and stood outside Lenni’s door. I knocked and held my breath.
“Come in,” she called out.
I opened the door. She was sitting on the floor with Mildred in her lap.
“The gals are here,” I said to her.
“Oh.” She bent her head.
“Poet brought you a book,” I went on. “And Hadley’s about to eat a cookie with mustard on it. Five bucks says it doesn’t stay down.”
That didn’t even get a flicker of a smile out of her.
“Poet brought Lottie,” I said, trying again.
Mildred perked up and launched herself off Lenni’s lap and darted out the door.
“At least that made someone happy,” I remarked. “Okay, well, come down if you want. No worries if you don’t.”
I was about to leave when she spoke. “The Christmas decorations . . . it just reminded me that my mom is gone. And I . . . I miss her, but . . .”
“You’re having more and more moments where you’re happy and that makes you feel guilty.”
She looked at me and nodded.
“I felt that way too after Aubrey died,” I said. “Losing a friend isn’t the same as losing a mom. But loss is loss.”
“Sometimes I feel so normal. Not like I forgot that she died, but there are times when it’s not the first thing I think about.”
“Yes. That happens.”
“The Christmas decorations just reminded me that I’ll never have another Christmas with her. But if she was still alive, I wouldn’t have Archer.” She paused. “I wouldn’t have you. And I love Archer. I love you, too, Wyn.”
My own eyes filled with tears, and I moved to sit down in front of Lenni.
“I may be having a baby,” I said, my voice soft. “But you’re my first, Lenni. I love you like you’re mine. And you never, ever have to worry about whether or not I love you. You never have to feel bad about missing your mom, either. You feel what you need to feel. Always.”
Her breath escaped like air from a leaky balloon and she nodded, swiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Your father and I were talking the other night about you and school.”
“What about it?” she asked.
“We thought you might want to be homeschooled,” I said. “You could study in the mornings with me but then have outside time in the afternoons. Maybe spend some time with Archer and learn about horses. It won’t make up for lost time, but—”
She launched herself at me. “Yes!”
Laughing, I hugged her tight.
She pulled back. “You’re the best. You know that?”
“I do know that.” I grinned. “But so are you. Come on, let’s go find out how many cookies with mustard Hadley’s eaten.”