Chapter Twenty-Six
MATO
ONE OF my father’s daily traditions was to rise early in the morning to offer prayers with the rising sun. The sound of his soft chants outside my bedroom window every morning was like my daily alarm clock.
There were many times as a teenager when it irritated me, especially on the days when I wanted to sleep in. So, I would lie there staring at the ceiling, the soft orange and pink of the sunrise shining through my window, and listen.
I didn’t realize how much I would miss it until after he was gone.
The same soft orange and pink is lighting up the ceiling of Breanna’s apartment around the blinds of the large window in her living room.
As I lie in the most comfortable overstuffed recliner I’ve ever sat in, the soft purring snore of the little girl, Nova, reminds me of my father.
I can still hear his chants in my head as if he’s outside the window.
As soon as I walked into the apartment last night, I could see Breanna’s personality sprinkled all over the place. Much like the decor at the ranch, her furniture is worn leather with a rustic wooden coffee table and matching side tables at each end of the couch.
For a one-bedroom, it’s bigger than I thought it would be.
The narrow kitchen is divided from the living room by a half-wall the length of the room, and on the marble bar that sits on top of that are dozens of pictures of the Harlow family members.
The frames for her siblings are mostly wooden frames, but the frames for her nieces and nephews smiling at the camera are all cartoon-like with Winnie the Pooh, Mickey Mouse, and Dr. Seuss.
Over the couch is a long wooden frame divided into three parts, with a mirror in each square.
It’s rustic, distressed, and a soft cream color that matches Breanna’s personality perfectly.
On the coffee table is a stack of veterinary books on one side, a stack of equine magazines on the other, and a light blue vase with fake flowers in the middle.
Under a second large window in the little breakfast nook is a small round table barely big enough for four chairs, but only two fringed cotton place settings opposite each other.
Her jean jacket is over the back of one of the chairs, and her boots are next to my military boots and Koda’s ratty shoes by the front door.
Breanna went to her bedroom and pushed the door closed, leaving it open just a crack hours ago, but then she tossed and turned, ruffling her covers for quite some time before she relaxed into sleep.
A couple of times I heard a heavy sigh, and I wondered if she was staring at the ceiling the same as me.
Sleep has evaded me as I think about what could be next. I know I did the right thing by offering to take Koda and his sister, because in his time of need, Koda asked for me. How could I ignore that and let CPS shuffle him through foster homes, separating him from his sister?
I can’t.
It’s barely been three weeks since I found the doorknob of my gym taken apart, and since then I’ve watched him open that little black box of tools he carries like a treasure - tools he probably found in the trash - to fix small things he notices.
I’ve also noticed the little gadgets in his bookbag that I’m pretty sure he takes apart just to see how they work.
He’s spent his life in horrible conditions, taking care of his sister and doing whatever it takes to survive. He’s the youngest grown-up I know.
I let Breanna down when she needed me, something that will never happen again.
I can’t let Koda and his sister down, too.
Since I’ve never taken care of children before, I’m hoping I can pull on my father’s strength to help me through this next challenge.
I never saw him with my mother, but even without her, he was there every day, and I never knew hardship.
The clock in the rectangular barometer station, which also includes temperature and humidity, over the TV says it’s six o’clock, and I hear covers rustling and stirring in the other room. Breanna must be waking up.
Movement in my periphery pulls my eyes to the couch, and I’m met with a picture of innocence that melts my heart. Nova is sitting up on one arm as she rubs her eye with the small fist of her other hand, her long black hair is in tangles down to her elbow.
We stare at each other for several moments, her head cautiously dipped to the side a bit as curiosity looks back at me. She’s adorable. A smile pulls my lips as a sense of protectiveness I’ve never felt spreads through me, and I whisper, “Hi.”
The tiny hand she just rubbed her eye with slowly lifts, her fingers curled halfway into her palm, to give me a small, jerky wave that makes the blanket on her shoulder fall to her waist. She’s so small, I’m pretty sure the horse blanket she was wrapped in last night weighed more than her.
Goosebumps erupt on her arm and I realize I need to get them some clothes.
Keeping my voice at a whisper, I ask, “Are you cold?” I move to give her the blanket I’m using that smells like Breanna. After she made the bed for the kids, she didn’t have any spare blankets and gave me the blanket she keeps folded at the end of her bed.
She shakes her head just before her eyes flit over my shoulder to look behind me.
Turning my head to follow her line of sight, I find Breanna leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s in a pair of baggy sleep shorts and a big orange and gray sweatshirt that says Oklahoma State Vet Med.
Unruly curls are sticking out in every direction from the bun she’s twisted her hair into on top of her head, and her eyes are sleep-swollen. There’s something else there, too. Her head is tipped to the side, her eyes soft and full of emotion, and I wonder how long she’s been standing there.
When we make eye contact, she jerks her head up and pastes a smile on her face as she pushes off the frame. She closes the distance to the fold-out couch, her eyes trained on Nova, and whispers, “Do you have to pee?”
Nova looks up at Breanna with big, expressive Disney eyes, and a small smile tips her lips up as she nods.
Breanna holds out her hand, still keeping her voice low since Koda is asleep. “Okay, come on, I’ll help you.”
The little girl slides on her bottom to the edge of the bed and takes Breanna’s hand as if she’s always known her. My heart aches as I wonder if that is what it would have looked like to watch Breanna with my daughter or son. I watch them until the door is quietly clicked shut.
Watching her cry when Koda hugged her last night almost crushed me.
“Nova likes her.” Koda’s groggy voice breaks through the silence in the room, and I tear my eyes from the closed bathroom door.
Pushing my feet down on the footrest of the recliner, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and scrub my face with my palms. “Oh, yeah, how can you tell?”
He sits up, his unruly hair sticking up around his head in creased waves and spikes, and yawns. “If she doesn’t like someone, she pretends they aren’t there.”
Based on what the sheriff told us last night, I wonder how many people she’s been exposed to she doesn’t like. Clasping my hands in front of me, trying to be delicate, I ask, “Has there been a lot of people at your house that she pretends aren’t there?”
His slim throat bobs with a swallow as he decides if he wants to answer the question before he slowly nods.
Nodding my head, I go on. “Is that why you asked to be home by seven every night?”
When he nods again, the hair standing up around his head waves and bounces. “There’s always a lot of people there after dark. When she wouldn’t talk to them, they called her dumb and retarded.”
Anger heats me from the inside out, starting at my head and moving down my body, and I unconsciously crack my knuckles like I do before I spar with someone or drill with the punching bag.
Needing a distraction, I look at his old, ratty high-top tennis shoes on the floor by the front door and stand up to fold the blanket Breanna took off her bed to let me use. “You need some cold-weather shoes. How about we go get some new shoes today?”
He stares at me for several seconds, sizing me up. “From the store?”
Trying not to show my thoughts, I smile to cover the anger I’m feeling. “Yes, from the store.”
The bathroom door clicks open behind me, and I turn. Breanna stops next to the pull-out, as Nova climbs up next to Koda, and she looks flustered. “I need to call my sister.”