Page 10 of Wild Side
It would appear that Tabitha is perfectly capable of managing her yard.
I turn my attention back to her. She’s on her knees at the base of the tree, speaking in low, even tones to her nephew. And when she raises her hand, I see it—a bright yellow-and-black-striped caterpillar inching across her palm.
“Again!” Milo chants with an excited trill to his voice.
“Of course. But you need to be cool. We don’t want to scare this little guy. Gentle hands, right?” She looks Milo in the eye and doesn’t use some stupid baby voice to relay the information. She talks to him like he understands completely.
And he does. He may only be three, but Milo is an old soul. And with her direction, he goes from wiggling with excitement to taking a deep breath and calmly reaching a steady, chubby hand forward.
“Ready?”
He nods, baby teeth pressing into his bottom lip as though steeling himself. She butts her hand against his, creating a flat expanse where their palms join. The caterpillar inches its way across, and the farther it travels, the bigger Milo’s grin grows.
But me? I can’t take my eyes off his aunt.
The elegant slope of her neck, the way her bare shoulder peeks from the off-kilter neckline of her navy knit sweater. The tips of her breasts create two clear points in the fabric, but I don’t let my eyes linger there. Instead, I move to the silky dark hair that’s effortlessly twisted up and clipped at her crown. Loose pieces tumble free and frame her doll-like face.
But the most attractive thing about Tabitha Garrison might be the way she’s gazing back at Milo, like he’s one of the wonders of the world.
It hurts to watch.
It hurts because I’ll take no pleasure in removing Milo from this place.
But it’s what I promised Erika I’d do.
CHAPTER 5
TABITHA
I can’t takemy eyes off Milo. The look of pure wonder on his sweet face is mesmerizing.
Whoever his father is must have the most beautiful curly hair, because the ringlet dropped in the middle of Milo’s forehead right now certainly never came from our side of the family where poker-straight hair abounds.
I never did find out who his biological dad is. Either Erika didn’t know, or she chose not to tell me. I never pressed her on it, because the news of Milo came about during a particularly low phase of her life. In fact, he’s the reason she focused so hard on healing for those few years. And all I knew was that I was happy to see my sistertrying.
The fuzzy caterpillar makes its way across his palm, and he’s captivated by the experience.
“Good, now move your other hand like this”—I raise his free hand to extend the space—“and you can keep him there for longer.”
“Wow.” His little cherry lips murmur the word with awe.
“Pretty amazing, right?”
A subtle nod is all I get. It’s as though he’s entranced. The feeling is mutual, because I see so much of my sister in him. And my heart aches that she won’t be here to see him grow.
I haven’t broken the devastating news to him yet, though I know I need to. The only saving grace is that spending a few weeks with me or his grandparents isn’t out of the ordinary for Milo.
Still, I have my appointment with a highly recommended therapist this afternoon. Because I want to get this right. Say the correct things, support him in the best way possible. Give him what he needs.
I can’t even think about losing him to another country right now. If I dwell on that, I’ll crumble completely.
So instead, I watch him lift one pudgy finger and swipe gently over the top of the caterpillar. “Wow. Soft,” he murmurs. And I can’t help but smile.
“He’ll grow into a spotted tussock moth, eventually.”
Milo’s eyes widen. “This becomes amoth?”
“Yes. Almost like a butterfly. They’re both a sign of a healthy ecosystem. They help pollinate flowers, and you know how important that is.”
