Page 89 of Single All the Way

The three of us thundered down the stairs. “Check the laundry room and bathroom.” I went into the living room. “We can’t find Sky.”

Berty shot up out of the chair quickly for her age. “Did you check Ev’s room?”

“I checked everywhere upstairs. The kids are looking in the laundry room.”

“What about the barn and the chicken house?” she asked.

“I’m on my way.” I strode toward the mudroom.

Evelyn sped past me. “I’ll go look in the chicken house, Dad.”

“She’s not anywhere,” Ruby said, coming out of the laundry room with Xavier behind her. “I’m worried, Daddy.”

I summoned every ounce of confidence I could and said, “Let’s not panic yet. You two get your coats on and check the workshop and the garage.”

All four of us grabbed our coats and headed outside, scattering in different directions.

As I jogged to the barn, my panic crept higher. I didn’t want Emerson to go through this fear again: the searching, the not knowing. I understood very well what it’d done to her last time.

The what-ifs and the worst-case scenarios were knocking on my brain, taunting me. Skyler might as well be my own daughter. I loved her as if she were. It was no longer just about her and Xavier being Blake’s children. Not even just because they were Emerson’s. They were part of our family, regardless of my relationship with their mom.

With my heart pounding, I slid the main barn door open and rushed in. The lights were low, and at first I didn’t see anyone, but then I caught a glimpse of brown hair at the opposite end.

“Sky?”

Her head popped out from Esmerelda’s stall—about four feet above the ground.

“Sweetie,whatare you doing?” I jogged closer, not believing my eyes.

She was sitting in the llama’s empty hay bin that attached to the half wall, smiling as big as day, Waylon the elephant next to her, Esmerelda’s snout close by. Skyler had apparently shoved the large bin of cat food over to the wall, climbed up on it, then crawled over the shorter stall wall, plush elephant in tow.

“Sharing,” she said proudly, holding up a half-eaten rainbow-sprinkle cookie. Then with her other hand, she held out the zipper bag where the rest were stored.

Esmerelda chomped contentedly, her big eyes following the bag.

I rushed up to Sky on this side of the stall to ensure she wasn’t in any danger, hugging her awkwardly over the wall. “You…” I couldn’t help it. I laughed, feeling lightness in my chest that I hadn’t felt in days, brought on by profound relief and the picture she made, sitting there in the feeding trough, happy as a…llama with a cookie.

I hugged her again. “We were worried about you, Sky Blue. You can’t leave the house without telling an adult.”

“Grandma Berty was busy doing laundry,” she said matter-of-factly, and it was damn hard to muster any true annoyance. “And the llamas needed their Christmas presents.”

“Cookies?”

She nodded once emphatically, looking pleased with herself.

I pulled out my phone and texted Berty.

She’s in the barn. All is well.

To prove my claim, and because you really needed to see this to believe it, I reassured myself the feed bin was secure, then stepped back a few feet, telling her, “Stay still and smile, silly goose.”

We’d have a stern discussion later, when my relief leveled out.

As I went back to Sky’s side, Emerson walked into the barn. “What’s going on? Why’s the door open?”

The sight of her punched me in the gut. She wore an oversized, fuzzy green sweater over leggings, knee-high boots, and a multicolored scarf around her neck. Her long hair was wind-tousled, her cheeks pink, her smile seeming a little more genuine than it had lately. Maybe she was actually feeling some holiday spirit.

“Your daughter’s gotten into a little mischief,” I said lightly.

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