Page 6 of Kissing the Kelpie

“Ana.” I rush the few feet over to where she stands on her tip-toes trying to spot the horse through the leaves and branches and turn her around to face me. “Shh.”

“But, Mama—”

In an attempt to quiet her, I grab the wrist with her pointed finger and pin her hand to the side of her body. If there’s any chance that Em’s around watching us, I don’t want her to alert him to her discovery.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like horsies?”

“Stop!” I scold. Although my voice is low, my tone sounds cold and harsh. “Stop telling stories, Ana. What would a horse be doing here?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugs. “But I know I saw one.” Her eyes double in size as she retells it. “It looks just like pictures in the books, and it was white and oh so pretty. Can I ride it, pleeease?”

“No. You’re acting ridiculous. There are no horses here, and you need to stop pretending you saw something you didn’t.”

“I did see a horse!” She raises her voice, looking and sounding exasperated.

“You’re lying, Ana!” I’m a horrible person. A Terrible mother. But I need to get her to stop talking about it.

“But—”

“You know the story about the boy that cried wolf.” I cut her off. “If you make up stories like this, I won’t know when you’re telling the truth.”

Her big blue eyes cloud with tears. She nibbles on her trembling bottom lip.

“I’m not lying! I’ll tell Uncle Em. He’ll believe me. You’ll see.”

“No!” I hiss, panicked that my world is about to crumble to pieces. No matter what happens, she can’t tell Em. He’ll search for the horse, and if he finds it—when he finds it—he’ll force it to lead him to the owner. Then Em will threaten the mysterious stranger to never come back, or he’ll hurt him so bad that even the thought of returning will cause him pain. I take hold of my daughter’s upper arm. “You don’t say a word to Uncle Em or Aunt Erin. Do you understand?”

Ana’s lips part. I wait for what comes next, expecting her to continue arguing with me. Instead, she sniffles and pouts before lowering her head and running into the house. No doubt crying hysterically.

I’m such a shit. How could I scold my daughter for sharing her excitement with me? I’ve never acted like this toward her. I look around to see if there’s any sign of the horse or the man I believe it belongs to. My shoulders slump. Not because I’m disappointed that the horse, like his owner, seems to have disappeared, but because I broke something sacred between my daughter and me.

Since the day I found out I was pregnant, she’s been the center of my universe. From the first moment I held her in my arms and looked into her big blue eyes, my world shrunk. It’s revolved around taking care of my little girl and making her happy ever since.

It’s been us against the world for years, and I just shoved an axe into that dynamic. For what? For a stranger? A man I don’t know and I never so much as had a conversation with?

It’s not that simple. He’s not that simple. I feel things for him I don’t understand. I sense that the man is going to be important in our lives. Maybe that’s just a ridiculous wish. There’s no place for a man in my life. Those days are long over. But what if they don’t have to be?

I fiddle with the center stone on the bracelet he gave me, and my nerves settle. They tend to do that anytime I rub it and focus on how cool and smooth it feels. It gives me something innocuous to focus on.

The thing that’s special and meaningful is that the man gave it to me as a gift after half a decade without one. I shouldn’t have accepted it. I definitely shouldn’t have it on my wrist. And I don’t wear it all the time. I take it off before heading to the spring so Em and Erin won’t see it, or if I expect to do something with Erin, but once the day comes to an end and I ready myself for bed, I refasten it on my wrist.

I need to take this stupid trinket off and leave it off. I need to sever any connection I have with the mysterious stranger. I will not be the reason Em hurts or kills him; I can’t live with another guilt-riddled loss, and I won’t allow anyone or anything to come between me and my daughter.

I make a secret vow to myself that the next time the music plays, I’ll stay put in my cottage. It’s where I belong. I promise to forget the enticing man that draws me to him. My daughter is and will always be my top priority.

After a few deep breaths, I pull my shit together. I pick up my basket of eggs and rehearse the apology I’m going to give my daughter.

Chapter 5

A drumming starts in my chest as the music I’ve been waiting for streams into my cottage. The sweet sounds trickle through my door, like a cartoon hand attached to a never-ending arm gliding under, over, and around every obstacle until it grips my earlobe and shakes me awake.

I sniffle, sad, disappointed that this is as close as I’ll get to the music as it plays. Resisting isn’t a choice; it’s a necessity. I swipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks. I want to go to him, but I can’t. It’s best for all of us if I keep my distance.

The struggle to stay put has me feeling like an addict fighting to stay clean when a hit is only feet away. I shiver and cover in a cold sweat as I close my eyes, trying to distract myself from the man that I know is out there. Instead, my mind tempts me with images of the beautiful man with the broad shoulders, tapered waist, and powerful thighs caressing his violin.

“Grr!” I punch my pillow. Ana moans. Shit. I need to stay quiet.

I sit up and steal a glance across the room at my sleeping daughter. Her eyes remain closed, and her breaths steady. She looks peaceful. Like a tiny cherub. That’s all I need to strengthen my resolve. I can and will do anything for Ana.

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