Page 101 of Windlass

Stevie’s ensuing squeal shattered her melancholy, and she laughed with delight as the surprise on Stevie’s face changed to outrage, amusement, and finally the certainty of payback. Her body hummed with anticipation.

Ivy sat across from Stevie, eyes half closed as she enjoyed the evening. Stevie suspected that her apparent nonchalance was an act, and that Ivy was panicking beneath those eyelids, based on the way her foot jiggled.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Stevie said. She could distract Ivy if nothing else. Angie, who sat on the porch railing, perked up.

“Oh yeah?” Ivy straightened and stilled her foot.

“Jaq. I think someone in her home is hurting her.”

“I’ve been worrying about that, too.” Ivy’s pale brows furrowed as she thought. “But without her telling us anything I don’t know what we can do. We have no evidence.”

“She hasn’t said anything to you either?”

“No,” said Ivy. “We could put in a call for a welfare check.”

“How old is the sister?” Angie asked.

“Turning eighteen soon.” Stevie remembered Jaq mentioning a plan for her birthday while braiding Olive’s mane and tail.

“She can legally move out at eighteen without her dad’s permission. She has a job, right?”

“Yes,” Ivy said, frowning. She couldn’t see where Angie was going with this either.

“She can apply for housing assistance, food stamps, and other government programs.”

“That doesn’t help Jaq, though.” Stevie studied Angie’s face. “Right?”

“Jaq could stay with her sister. I can help them with the paperwork if they need it. The sister doesn’t need to have full custody, just a place for Jaq to go that’s safe.”

“We don’t know if Jaq’s dad would let her.”

“My sister’s a lawyer,” Ivy said thoughtfully. “I bet she could find a clause somewhere they could use to scare the father. Jaq’s only fourteen, but I can pay her for more work around the barn. Money doesn’t have to be a limiting factor.”

“But can’t we just, like, get them out of there?” Stevie knew it was a stupid question, but still. You should be able to get kids out of bad situations.

Angie’s eyes were sympathetic as she responded. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is give someone the tools they need to save themselves. Jaq’s lucky to have you in her corner. Don’t underestimate that.”

“But—”

“Angie’s right,” said Ivy. “We focus on what we know we can do to help.”

Stevie acquiesced with a grumble, not because she was willing to cede this ground quite yet, but because Angie’s words were replaying in her head, loop upon endless loop. Was Angie acknowledging that she too was lucky to have Stevie in her corner? That Stevie had given her tools to help herself? Angie wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, which added to her confusion. What had she given Angie besides love?

It hit her then how obtuse she’d been. There was no “besides love.” There was only love. Love and support wereeverything, and here was Angie telling her it was enough.

Shewas enough.

Angie had planned on teasing Stevie the rest of the evening, the dress making it easy to offer casually seductive views without looking like she was doing any such thing. The group settled onto the couches around the fireplace, which although it was not lit given the warmth of the evening, still conveyed a certain cozy dignity. She chose the corner of a plush sofa and nestled into it, tucking her feet up beneath her instead of stretching into a more enticing pose. Stevie sat close enough for their hips to touch. Angie shifted to lean her head against Stevie’s shoulder.

She did that all the time and had for years, in fact. It shouldn’t signify anything to the others. Right now she didn’t particularly care. The episode of emptiness, for she did not know what else to call it, had left her unsettled, and the only thing that soothed it was proximity to Stevie. Leaning against Stevie, she could enjoy the conversation and join in. When Stevie got up to use the bathroom, however, her skin broke out in goosebumps at the chill.

Perhaps the thing she hated most about the banality of trauma was its ability to destroy the present as well as the past. Why should she feel suddenly hunted in a place where she’d not only felt safe moments before, butwassafe? Why should the darkness on the old glass windows press itself greedily against the rippled pane instead of reflecting the joyful company within?

Stormy raised a brow in question once. Angie smiled with as much reassurance as she could. She really was fine. Stevie’s return banished the hunted feeling once again. Stevie’s arm stretched along the back of the couch, and she took full advantage of it. The conversation waded through waters familiar and new, from music to veterinary gossip to—briefly and with an unease that had an immediate cause—the anti-science political trends.

She did not remember dozing off.

“Hey.”

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