Page 72 of The Feud

“Why did I really have to leave?”

“Is my dad okay?”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Am I in trouble?

“Will I have to go back to the Mardraggons?”

The one that got me the most, and it came out of left field, “Is my dad sick like my mom? Is that why you won’t tell me anything?”

I was able to reassure her on many of her questions, a constant reiteration that her dad and her family are safe, healthy and not in any trouble. I told her that someone her dad knew was in trouble though and he had to work on that but would tell her later what’s going on.

That led to more questions, trying to guess who was in trouble and her first concern, “Is it Uncle Gabe?”

She was hitting too close to the truth and I couldn’t lie to her, and I didn’t want to have to play this game with her all day. So she got my stern principal voice, even though I hated to do it. “Sylvie… I cannot tell you anything. That is for your dad to do and you’re going to have to wait and trust that we’re doing the best thing for you. Please stop trying to get information from me.”

“I’m sorry,” she immediately said, head ducked in contrition.

I smiled, pulled her into a hug and told her it would all be okay.

She lasted another half hour before she started pestering me again and it’s been a constant battle with her asking and me denying.

Movement catches my eye and my sigh of relief is audible. Ethan’s truck pulls up to the curb. “Your dad is here.”

Sylvie doesn’t wait, turning to bolt for the door. I watch from the window as she runs out to meet him. For someone who just got out of the hospital this morning, she’s quite spry when she catapults herself into his arms and he carries her the rest of the way into my house.

I meet them in the small foyer, his eyes meeting mine over the top of Sylvie’s head and I can’t read all the emotion warring within their fern-colored depths.

“Where were you?” Sylvie demands, lifting her head from Ethan’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Ethan sets his daughter on the floor. “Let’s sit down in the living room.”

“I’ll just…” I throw my thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll be in there.”

“No,” Ethan says, taking my hand. “Come sit with us.”

The tenderness mixed with the need to have me there for support nearly buckles my knees. Ethan and I have grown so close these last several weeks, our intimacy only fortifying our growing bond. But to know that he needs me causes my heart to surrender to him completely.

In the living room, we all sit on the couch, Sylvie in between me and Ethan. She stares at her father, waiting for him to deliver what she’s clearly pegged as bad news.

Ethan takes her hand, holds it with both of his. “Two detectives from the sheriff’s department came to the house this morning.” He glances at me and I nod my encouragement. “They believe that someone intentionally made you sick.”

Sylvie’s face screws up with confusion. “Intentionally? What does that mean?”

“It means that someone meant to hurt you. They did it on purpose. Apparently, you were dosed with penicillin and you experienced a severe allergic reaction.”

The kid is savvy and knows the dangers of her allergy. She knows it can be fatal and while she doesn’t remember much of her ordeal, she’s comprehending that someone weaponized it. I see the question coming before she asks it of her father. “Who would do that?”

My heart clenches and Ethan swallows hard. There was a day I know he would have relished throwing Lionel under the bus, gladly telling Sylvie how rotten he was and therefore she should love the Blackburns and not the Mardraggons. The more I’ve learned of this bitter feud, the more appreciation I have for how deep it runs, even in these modern times.

But Ethan is a man now driven by the love of a daughter, and he knows this will hurt her. It’s the last thing in the world he’d ever want to do because it’s an act of betrayal that could destroy her.

It humbles me, the courage it takes. “The police believe it was Lionel.”

Sylvie’s face crumples. Tears pool and shine through her lashes. She shakes her head and tries to tug her hand away from Ethan. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that. Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know what to think, baby,” her dad explains softly. “I’m only reporting what the police think. They’re questioning Lionel, but they have evidence your uncle Gabe found that points to him being the one who did it. Gabe turned it over to the police.”

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