Page 92 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“What's up?”

Breathe—you can do this.“Olivia dropped a bombshell on me last night. She wants to come to Mission City with me.”

“Damn.”

The intensity of his vehemence set her back for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “Tell me how you really feel about it.” A quick quip.

“I was afraid of this.” He shook his head. “I'll talk to her. She's worried about her future. I take it you told her you weren't staying in Toronto?”

“That precipitated the discussion. Things sort of spiraled out of control from there. She threatened to leave, but I calmed her down.”

“Will she run away?”

After deliberation, she shook her head. “Although she lacks maturity, she still sees her alternatives are limited. An empty threat, to be sure, but I warned Matilda and my father. If she leaves, the guard will call the house. We can't keep her prisoner, but we can make a persuasive case why she might consider staying.”

“Thank you.” His voice was low, but his tone was fervent. “Olivia seems like a different person. After she overdosed, I thought she was suicidal. Now, though, I can see it was an accident.”

“An accident.” She repeated the words slowly, turning them over in her mind. She pulled her ponytail tighter. “Jake, she is one damaged child. I can hire her a tutor, and I can get her a counselor. I can sign her up for riding lessons, and I can set up independent living arrangements, but let's be brutally honest. I can't fix what's broken. Hell, I can't even fix myself.”

“Marnie.” He was, as always, patient. “Talk to me. What can I do?”

At his plea, she almost turned to him, but fought the impulse. Instead, she tipped her head toward the sun as she closed her eyes, savoring the rays on her face. “Olivia opened up to me. She told me things that made me sick to my stomach. The worst part is there's more. She hasn't hit the really tough stuff yet.”

“She hasn't?” He tilted his head. “She hasn't, or you haven't?”

She drew in a breath at the sharp pain in her chest. “We’re talking about Olivia.”

“And I care about her health, but your well-being is as important.” He eyed her speculatively. “What is it you're not telling me?”

Time spun out as she sought the right words.

“Marnie?”

“I can’t.” A broken whisper. “Please don’t ask that of me.” She resumed walking, and he fell into step. A bird called in the distance, but she couldn’t find the joy she normally derived from such simple things. Today her life felt chaotic and out of control.

“How can I even thank you?”

His words caught her off guard. “You might not be thankful when I tell you what's on my mind.”

He shook his head, his lips a twist of amusement. “Given the upheaval of the past few weeks, I don’t think there's anything you could say—”

“I want Olivia to come home with me.”

“—except that.” He stopped short, and it forced her to turn to face him. “Are you out of your flipping mind?”

All amusement was gone from his expression, and although he didn’t appear angry, she wasn’t willing to take the chance and bridge the physical distance. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I knew you might have some objections—”

“Objections? I can come up with half a dozen reasons this is a bad idea.” He balled up his right hand and pounded it into his left palm.

“And I can come up with half a dozen more why it's a good idea. Look, at least hear me out. If you still disagree, you can give me your half-dozen reasons.”Hold steady. Let him come to you.

He nodded grudgingly, and started moving toward her.

They resumed their stroll in silence as she searched for the right words. “While it sounds crazy, I can see the benefits for Olivia. She needs to get away from Toronto.”

“This is her home.” Strong and uncompromising words.

“This is a constant reminder of her nightmare.” She made a wide arc with her arm. “It’d do her good to get away from here.”

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