Page 16 of Gifts

And bonus. I’ll get to see Keelie in the process.

*****

We’re on our way to Keelie’s. Emma hasn’t spoken one word.

But she’s out of the house. Score one for me.

“I have to tell you something before we get there,” I announce to the silent cab of my truck.

She says nothing but shifts in her seat. When I look over, she’s scowling out the window at the passing woods. She took a shower and threw on jeans and a hoodie, but her hair is thrown up and still half wet.

I keep on as if she asked me to. “Ms. Lockhart doesn’t know we’re coming.”

When I glance over, she’s staring at me, this time with her mouth open. She whispers, “Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“Are you serious?” she repeats, this time in a yell.

“Yup.”

She flops back into her seat and shakes her head. “I cannot believe this. Are you trying to kill me? Seriously. Just kill me. Tear me up and rip me to shreds. This is so embarrassing! I’m going to have to see her at school and she’s going to know my dad’s a freak.” Her eyes shift back to me. “You’re a freak. Who does shi—, I mean, stuff like this?”

I look back to the road and tip my head, wondering that same thing.

“Do you always do stuff like this?” she asks.

I throw her a frown. “No.”

She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “It’s like you’re desperate. That’s even more embarrassing. I should’ve let you talk about me all night. This is going to be miserable.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I told her I was taking her to dinner, she just doesn’t know it’s tonight.”

“It’s even worse than I thought,” she groans. “Maybe she’ll flat out turn you down and we can go home. I’m hiding in the truck. There’s no way I’m going to be present when my school counselor tells you to take a hike.”

“She’s not going to tell me to take a hike,” I promise, though at this point, I just hope she’s home. For some reason, I have a feeling she will be since she hates Saturdays, but who knows. I’m just glad I got Emma out of the house. “And you’re not hiding. She’s got kids—you need to get out and speak to some other humans for a change.”

She doesn’t have a chance to argue because I pull into Keelie’s drive and Emma sits up straight to look around. “Ms. Lockhart lives here?”

“I thought the same thing.” I throw it in park. The animals are making just as much of a commotion as yesterday, but today there’s a little girl added to the mix with miniature goats running all around her. She’s a little version of Keelie with lighter hair.

I climb out of my truck. “Come on. Don’t be rude.”

Even though our arrival has roused the animals, it doesn’t deter the child. Juggling what looks to be a baby goat in her arms, she somehow manages the gate and starts walking toward us. “Who are you?”

I put my hands on my hips and look down at her. “I’m Asa, a friend of your mom’s. What’s your name?”

“Saylor.” She struggles with the wiggling goat. It almost frees itself, but she holds firm. “This is Buffy.”

Emma must have remembered her manners, because when I look over, there’s a ghost of a smile on her face as she looks down at Keelie’s daughter with the goat. I almost have to do a double take because it’s the first time I’ve seen anything that resembles happiness on her face in months.

“Saylor, did I hear someone drive up—”

I turn around and Keelie appears from the garage and her words catch as soon as she lays eyes on me.

Her strawberry-blonde hair is pulled back and her face is makeup free. Wearing jeans and an old, oversized green t-shirt that advertises my kids’ high school football team, she’s spotted with white paint from head to toe. Without any of her curves on display, she seems even smaller as she stands barefoot in her garage with a paintbrush in her hand.

Her voice is low and breathy when she finally speaks. “What are you doing here?”

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