Page 8 of Imperfect Arrangement
“Have you been to the festival yet?” I ask, pointing to the town before us through the wide glass windows. But when I turn to her, her gaze is fixed on my wrist.
“Sunflower,” Quill signs, pointing to the silver bracelet I purchased from the salary at my first summer job. I’d helped Gramps with some bookkeeping work at Whispering Willow. It was the time when I hated my name and everything it represents so badly. Sunflowers felt like the antidote, the opposite of a weeping willow: bright, bold, unapologetically joyful.
“Do you like it?” I ask, giving the tiny silver flower a soft flick. It swings gently from the hoop attaching it to the bracelet’s chain.
Quill nods, her movements tentative, then signs shyly, “I love sunflowers. They are happy.”
Her words hit me square in the chest, simple but profound. In three little words, she’s voiced the very reason I’ve clung to this bracelet for so many years, even when I couldn’t explain it to anyone else.
“Me too. When I was your age, my mom and I used to come here all the time. Decent Joe, the man at the ticket counter, would let me ride for free. He has a secret crush on my mom. I’d sit exactly here and leave the sunflowers I had collected from my nana’s garden for the fairies. I used to think if I was asking for them to grant me a wish, shouldn’t I do it with the happiest and prettiest flower?” I pause, the memory of that little girl washing over me. The one who wanted to change her and her mom’s life so bad.
“Fairies?” Quill’s ears perk up, a hint of wonder in her expression.
“Yup.” I push up my slumped shoulders and smile. “One of my best friends, Violet, was completely obsessed with fairies, and she used to tell us all these stories about them and their wishes.”And oh, how my little heart believed in them.“She was always dragging us into all sorts of trouble, things we weren’t supposed to do.”
Her eyebrows lift with interest. “Like what?”
I’m not surprised she’s hooked on this. “Oh, you know…sneaking into the woods to feed wild bunnies, lighting little fires even though we were way too young, sneaking out to watch the fireflies dance.” I glance at Quill’s excited face and cringe. Crap! I probably shouldn’t be giving her a checklist of bad ideas. “But just so you know, that’s allreallydangerous stuff, and our moms were totally right to be mad.”
She nods thoughtfully. “And what about your dad? Did he get mad at your friend too?”
I feel a quick pinch in my chest, the kind that’s familiar whenever someone asks about my sperm donor. I’ve plenty to say, but none of my words are suitable for Quill’s ears.
“I don’t have a dad.” I shrug it off. “But I have an amazing mom and nana, who’ve always been there.”
“Me too! I mean, I don’t have a mom, but my dad is the most awesome dad, and there’s Grandpa Will, Grandpa Zach, and Grandma Hope. Plus, my dad’s got a ton of cousins, and I have two aunts. They’re all just…the best.” She hugs her arms around herself, as if gathering all these people close and wrapping them inside her.
“Wow, Quillbug, you’re one lucky girl.”
The nickname that slipped off my tongue without thought earns me a happy, scrunched-nose smile. “You called me by a nickname! My dad calls me his bug.”
“He must love you a whole lot.”
Her smile softens into something sincere, something almost too big for such a little face. “I think so too. Do you have a lot of aunts and uncles?”
“Not really,” I admit. “But I have some pretty amazing friends. And then, of course, there’s Captain Lick.” I nod toward the scruffy little guy curled up beside us.
“Do you think he likes being on top of the world?” she signs, glancing at Captain Lick with fascination.
I grin inwardly, totally charmed by her curiosity. “I think he loves it here.”
“Me too,” she signs before she rests her head against the safety bar. “This is the best therapy. I hate the other ones.”
Oh.
My heart tugs, and then, as if sensing her need, Captain Lick wiggles his way closer, his little doggy butt scooting over until he’s right next to her. Quill brings her face lower, and he tilts his head up, poking his nose through the opening in his bag. I know what’s coming next.
A second later, his tongue swipes across her chin.
And then she squeals. “Willow, Captain Lick licked my face!”
I freeze, staring. Holy crap.
Did she just…
Did she just speak?
A DEADLY DIVA
