Page 58 of High Frequency

Since we used that room last night, Sloane and I ended up quickly changing the sheets and opening the window to get some fresh air in there this morning. There was no lingering evidence of what went on in there when I carried in Isobel’s bags earlier.

“So what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be working on your house?”

“I’ll head over there shortly, but first I was hoping to pick Aspen up.”

Ideally, Sloane would introduce the baby to her mother, and I’m probably way out of line, but the woman has traveled a long way. I’m not sure if she’s aware the baby is here at the ranch right now, but even if she’s not, it doesn’t seem right for someone else to be looking after the child.

“You were, huh?”

“I think there’s some time to make up for,” I reason. “Isobel is Aspen’s grandmother, she came here to look after her, and the sooner she can start doing that the better it is for everyone.”

Ama regards me with her head slightly tilted, making me wait.

“You may have a point,” she finally concedes. “She’s been down for almost two hours, I was gonna wake her up soon anyway. Don’t forget to change her diaper, and she should eat soon,” she yells after me when I duck back down the hallway.

Aspen sure is a sunny baby. She definitely wakes up in a better mood than her mother, even with a full diaper. She’s happily babbling, her little fist tugging on my beard as I carry her back to Sloane’s cabin.

Isobel must’ve heard me come in because no sooner have I put down the diaper bag on the couch, when she walks out of the bedroom. Then she freezes on the spot, her hands covering her mouth, and her eyes wide and shimmering with tears.

Before the waterworks are released, I quickly cross the room with the intention of handing Aspen over, but the baby holds on to my facial hair for dear life.

“Hey, Peanut, you need to let go so I can hand you to your grandma,” I mumble, trying to dislodge those little digits from my beard.

“Come here, beautiful girl,” Isobel coos, carefully taking her from my hands.

“Clothes and diapers for her in the top drawer. There’s a can of formula, bottles, and some other baby stuff in the top cupboard to the right of the sink, and I’m sure there’s stuff in the diaper bag I put here.” I point at the couch.

Isobel’s eyes narrow over Aspen’s downy head.

“You seem quite at home here,” she observes.

And there’s my cue to leave, before the statement turns into an inquisition.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta run. I’ve got work to do.”

“What the hell? What happened here?”

I can’t find a single spot to focus on, there are bright red streaks wherever I look.

Fucking spray paint on my beautiful logs.

James drops the brush he’s holding in the bucket, just as JD comes around the corner.

“It’s coming off,” the older man assures me as I try to take stock of the damage. “Takes a little elbow grease, that’s all.”

“You didn’t call me.”

“To what end?” JD pipes up. “We handled it. Called the sheriff’s office, waited for the deputy to stop by to take a report and some pictures, and now we’re cleaning.”

He’s probably right but I’m still taking it all in, trying to wrap my head around it. My eyes catch on something through the door opening.

“Inside?”

I’m already rushing up the porch steps and through the door.

Fuck.

“Most of it’s going to be covered with either drywall or flooring,” James points out behind me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “What’s left we can fix.”

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