Page 73 of The Feud

“Uncle Gabe?” she asks, as if she’s never heard of the man. I can’t even begin to imagine how confusing this is.

I wait for her to ask if Gabe or Rosemund are complicit because that’s been lurking in the back of my mind. I wonder what Ethan thinks of that. Common sense tells me Gabe is innocent since he turned his dad in, and having his dad arrested in no way benefits Gabe himself. I have no clue about Rosemund, but it’s not up to me to figure that out. It’s for the police.

“What’s going to happen?” Sylvie asks, glancing at me briefly before turning her attention back to her dad.

Ethan shakes his head, sadness etched on the planes of his face. “I honestly don’t know. If the police believe they have a strong case against Lionel, they’ll arrest him.”

“Arrest him for what?” she demands, and her dilemma is as clear as it is heartbreaking. She wants to know exactly what Lionel was trying to do and she’s afraid to come out and ask it.

It’s a question Ethan can’t answer. “I don’t know that either, Sylvie. I don’t know what laws he might have broken.”

“But why?” she persists, tears flowing freely down her face. “Why give me penicillin? He knew it could kill me.”

And there it is… the horrific bottom line. Sylvie sobs and her father pulls her into his chest, stroking her hair. My heart feels like it’s been crushed in a vise grip and I reach out to place my hand on Sylvie’s back. It’s all I can do for now, but I want her to know she’s got two people in this room who will get her through this.

“Why would he want to kill me?” she wails, her entire body shaking.

Ethan stares at me in panic, unable to provide solace to his heartbroken child. He could go into details about the trust and how it would revert to the Mardraggon family if she died before she was twenty-one, but we both talked about how far to go with that information. While Ethan wants to be transparent to prepare Sylvie for dark days ahead, we talked in the kitchen before she came down from her shower. My advice was to keep it limited at this time so she isn’t overwhelmed.

This is a subject far too important for me, Ethan or any of the Blackburns to shoulder with her. I shot out dozens of texts to teachers and other principals in the area, pulling any strings I could to find a therapist for Sylvie. While she’s acclimated well the last few weeks to her new circumstances, this will test the child’s resilience and confidence. I told Ethan I’d find her someone and by God, I will.

“Sylvie,” I say softly. She doesn’t move from Ethan’s embrace but turns her head on his chest to stare back at me. “We may never understand Lionel’s intentions. All we can do is wait to see what the police figure out. The important thing to understand is that you are safe.”

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again,” Ethan vows, and I hear the misery in his voice. He’s taken on all the blame for this since he’s the one who let her go stay the night with the Mardraggons.

He’s the one who put her in Lionel’s clutches.

Sylvie starts crying again and Ethan gathers her in close, pulls her onto his lap and rocks his daughter. He’s such a natural at this… an inherent ability to nurture and give unconditional love. While her world has just been torn to pieces again, I still count Sylvie as one lucky little girl.

♦

It’s barely eight p.m. and I’m exhausted. The day’s emotional toll has reduced me to mind numbness, but it’s nothing compared to what Sylvie and Ethan are going through. He’s upstairs right now, checking on her. She fell asleep about an hour ago, curled against me on the couch at Ethan’s house. We came back here to be around the entire family, Ethan believing she needed to be surrounded by love and solidarity more than anything.

He wasn’t wrong. It was a good choice.

The fact that he asked me to come, to be a part of it, was a message I received loud and clear.

I am a part of this family unit now. Not conventionally but by circumstances that none of us ever thought would play out. Without needing to say a single word, Ethan has shown that I have his deepest trust and respect, and I hope somewhere in there, a part of his heart.

We had dinner together, Fi and I making a big batch of spaghetti which was easy and loved by all. We kept conversation light, didn’t discuss Lionel or any other Mardraggon, for that matter, and managed to get smiles from Sylvie. After, we played Heads Up!, a charades game that paired Sylvie and me, and we stomped everyone’s butts. Her yawns indicated an early bedtime and although she’s been asleep for over an hour, Ethan has gone up twice to check on her.

Fi and Tommy returned to their cottage, Kat back to her apartment, and Trey and Wade back to their house in town. Ethan asked me to stay, so I did. We’ve been cuddled on the couch in between his trips upstairs to check on Sylvie, talking in low voices about what the future might look like because things are going to be chaotic.

Ethan got a text from Gabe while we were eating dinner. It was simple and didn’t invite a follow-up response: My father’s been arrested. Attempted murder.

We didn’t tell Sylvie and Ethan has decided to keep her home from school tomorrow. The update came too late for the six o’clock news cycle but we expect it to be on the late news. It will be all over the school in the morning.

The good news is that an assistant principal in a neighboring county has a sister who is a licensed child therapist specializing in trauma and she has agreed to see Sylvie tomorrow. Ethan will bring her at lunchtime and that’s probably our biggest solace right now. We have a professional to help guide us all through this journey.

The stairs creak as Ethan comes down and when he walks into the room, I can tell he’s as tired as I am. When he reaches the couch, he takes my hand and pulls me up, only to lower himself down with me on his lap. He adjusts my position and I put my arms around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes and no. At this moment, with you in my arms, everything is perfect. If I think about my kid and what she’s going through, I’m not okay.”

“What can I do?” I ask softly.

“Don’t move a muscle. Just let me hold you.”

“I can do that,” I say, but I move a little. I burrow in closer to him, one hand going to the back of his neck to stroke him lightly.

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