Chapter 38 #2
Now Frankie actually allows her mouth to curve into something very close to a smile, making my heart skip with a beat of hope.
“And just like you’d always forgive a donkey if it chewed its way through the fence, or kicked someone, or knocked over all the feed in a temper because it knows no better, I’m asking you to forgive me for not knowing better when I got here.”
I instinctively move toward her but check myself after one step. I don’t want to push my luck. “You’re not just a donkey whisperer. You’re a Miller whisperer.”
Frankie rolls her eyes, but more with amusement than scorn.
Have I managed to crack her armor?
When you’re striking a deal you can’t let a second pass without jumping on even the slightest glimmer of hope. And this is the most important deal I’ve ever negotiated. So I need to seize the chance to tear that crack wide open and march on through, all guns blazing.
“My point is, I’ve decided I want to do something good.” There are gentle noises of approval from the audience, so at least some of them are prepared to give me a chance.
I’m desperate to take Frankie’s hands in mine, but that might push her too far and jeopardize the whole thing, so I just inch a little closer. “I want to become a friend of the sanctuary. With an annual donation of several times…well, several thousand times…more than the regular amount.”
“Oh, no.” Frankie shakes her head, holds her palms up to face me, arms outstretched as if to hold me back. “That’s it. Enough.”
She turns to the audience and puts a professional smile on her flaming face.
“Like I said, everyone, go enjoy the rest of your day at the sanctuary.” Her tone is bright and cheery, like nothing unusual is going on at all.
“And if you have any questions, just ask anyone in a purple We’ll Save Your Ass hoodie. ”
“No, no.” I didn’t mean to shout, but I must have, because I sense everyone around me jolt.
Without my realizing it, the panic of her shutting me down and probably being on the verge of kicking me off the property again has propelled me to within inches of her.
She looks up, eyes meeting mine, and there’s that instant spark again, just like it was that first morning in the kitchen. And it sends a quiver to my chest just like it did then.
“I don’t mean I want to donate the money in a bad way.” The words rush from me. “I’m not trying to buy it. Or build on the land. Or change it. I don’t want to do anything with it. I just want its future to be safe.”
I turn to look at her grandpa. He gazes up at Frankie, eyes wide, and she smiles back at him in the way I’m craving for her to smile at me.
But when she turns back to me, she’s not.
“What are you talking about, Miller?” Her words are clipped. She sounds like she’s only tolerating my presence because she doesn’t want to make a scene in front of all the guests.
“I’m saying, I want to be a sponsor. For ten years.
Or however many years you prefer.” I reach for her upper arms but, too afraid to touch her in case she snatches herself away, I leave them hovering there, inches away, like I’m hugging the air around her.
“It’ll be liquid cash to make all the improvements you need, hire staff to help Sam, pay for publicity and marketing to let everyone know they should come here to visit because it could change their lives too. ”
My mouth’s as dry as a hay bale left out in the sun for a week, and I have to run my tongue over my teeth before I can continue. “The annual contribution would include a good living for Sam.”
“So instead of buying the land, you’d buy us?” Frankie says.
Someone behind me sucks in air—a fair representation of the combination of defiance and hurt on Frankie’s face.
“No.” Her grandpa is back on his feet, making his way slowly toward us, holding hands with the woman at his side. “He means he’d set us free.”
“Could not have put it better myself.” Thank God Sam is more eloquent than me right now.
Frankie stares at me, her eyes shimmering.
“You lied to me.” Her voice is soft now, as is her gaze.
There isn’t a single sound from the audience. Not a word, not a cough, not a shuffle of feet. Even Mrs. Pink Hat in her walker is silent.
“I did.” My heart races with fear as I finally touch her arms and slide my fingers down them until I reach her hands.
This is do or die.
But she lets me take them. Thank God, she lets me take them.
My chest heaves as I let out a giant sigh, loosening the tight grip around my ribs.
I step close enough to Frankie to be able to draw her hands to my chest. “And for as long as I live, deceiving you will forever be my biggest regret. I don’t know if I can ever make that up to you. But I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life trying.”
Frankie’s gaze dances over my face as I continue talking. “But I totally get that you might not be able to see a way past that. I truly do. If you’d prefer to sell to Skinner, go ahead. I don’t even care anymore about getting him back for what he did. All I care about is getting a chance with you.”
She wets her lips. “What about him shutting us down for not having the right permits or licenses or whatever?”
“You haven’t met my lawyers yet, have you?”
And there’s the full smile I’ve been waiting for. The one that makes my heart feel like it’s full of sunshine, rainbows, fluffy clouds and lollipops. Like nothing bad could ever happen in the world. And like I’ve found the perfect fit for my imperfect soul.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw that you’re renovating the old arts barn.” She swallows hard. “And naming it after Grandma.”
“Maybe I’m not all bad.” I shrug. “I might have come here under a false name, but it turned out that that fake person was actually the real me.”
“It’s this place.” She looks around the large barn. “It makes me feel like the real me too.”
“I want to be like Waldo,” I tell her.
There’s a clap behind me and someone says, “Oh, that’s a very good one.” It’s the woman in the walker again.
There’s a quiet huh? from the rest of the room.
I turn to them to explain. “He’s the big white donkey in the main field. He was a troubled foal. But Frankie opened her heart to him, won him over, made him a better donkey, and now he’s totally devoted to her and virtually does a dance every time he sees her.”
There are smiles everywhere now.
I return my attention to Frankie. “That’s what happens to my heart every time I see you. It does this weird Waldo dance and races toward you.”
Pink blossoms in Frankie’s cheeks and she shakes her head like she could not be more embarrassed, but also couldn’t be happier.
“Will you let me be your Waldo?”
And the room fills with a mixture of sighs, gasps and aws.
Frankie’s teeth dig into her bottom lip and her hands shift under mine, weaving our fingers together. That has to be a good sign. It has to be.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes are brimming now. “I mean, I—”
“Oh, hug the man and tell him you love him.” The words from Mrs. Pink Hat spark murmurs of amused agreement around the room.
But most important of all, also from the woman whose hands I’m clutching as close to my heart as I can get them.
I brush the adorable stray hair from her face and hook it behind her ear. “I love you, Frankie Channing.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She slides her hands from mine and wraps them around my neck. “I love you too. Because you are you. No matter what your name is.”