by Freya Barker
As Millie is introduced to the animals that trotted up to the house behind us, I check out the older two-storey house. It looks well-maintained, as do the grounds. I wonder if the good therapist does all this herself, or whether I totally missed the boat when I assumed she was single. There's a good chunk of property to take care of, from what I can see. The only thing that appears to need a little work is the barn. A few loose boards, the door looks to be hanging off its hinges, and it could use a lick of paint. On the far side, I spot a horse standing by the fence, snorting softly and shaking his head. Clearly Millie spotted him too, since she's already heading toward it.
"That's Chester," Freddy's voice sounds behind me, and I turn to face her.
"Hope he's friendly."
"Chester is a pussycat. Millie will be fine. You already know Boulder, and I see you've met George and Timber."
I look down where the goat is trying to climb my leg and the pig is sniffing my boots. "Which one's which?" I ask a grinning Freddy.
She already looked good, pissed off and yelling at me outside Tim Hortons, but fuck, she looks even better smiling.
"George is the pig, and the other little guy is Timber. I also have three cats: Larry, Curly, and Moe, who is pregnant and should drop her litter in about ten days or so. I also have some chickens and a rooster, but they don't have names."
"Jesus. This place is like a zoo." I'm deadly serious, but Freddy seems to find my observation hilarious. I don't mind—I like hearing her laugh. "No wonder you're looking for an extra pair of hands."
"I manage all right by myself, although extra help is always welcome. Especially once my puppies show up."
"Puppies?" I look confused at Boulder, who I was pretty sure was male.
"Not his. Two abandoned puppies dropped off at the veterinary clinic a few weeks ago. They were too small and malnourished."
I'm starting to get a more complete image of the woman in front of me, and dammit—every new thing I learn only adds to her appeal, and that doesn't make me happy.
What also doesn't make me happy is the calculated smile on her face. Why do I get the feeling I'm getting played?
"You should see them, they're so cute."
Yup. I may be a retired cop but I can still smell a set-up a mile away.
"You put the idea of a dog in my daughter's head, and now you want to saddle us with a puppy," I accuse her, causing a barely noticeable flash of guilt in her eyes.
"Nothing quite as sinister. I'm sure Boulder had something to do with Millie wanting a dog; they seemed to take an instant liking to each other. So when I heard about those puppies, I of course immediately thought of her." She puts up her hands defensively when I raise my eyebrows. "I swear; Millie was the one who brought up getting a dog, not me. For the record, I think taking care of a dog, especially a puppy, might actually benefit her emotionally."
I shake my head and try to hide a grin. "Laying it on a little thick?"
"Maybe..." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. "But that doesn't mean it's not true."
I grunt getting back into the car. Great, two women on my case about getting a dog. Doesn't matter I was leaning that way already, but I'll be damned if I give in now. If and when I do, it'll be when I'm good and ready.
"Pick her up in an hour?" I ask, rolling down my window, indicating I'm done with that conversation. Freddy chuckles, clearly recognizing an evasive move when she hears it.
"Why not play it by ear?" she suggests, letting me off the hook. "If she's having a good time and is willing to talk, I don't mind her staying a bit longer. I could even feed her lunch. Give me a call in an hour, and we'll take it from there."
"The number on your card?"
"That's the office. Here, give me your cell, I'll put in my digits." She holds out her hand, and after giving her a long look, I hand over my cell. After all the preaching I've done to my daughter about cell phone safety, it's a good thing Millie is still over by the barn, or I never would've heard the end of that.
I check the screen when Freddy hands me the phone back, and bust out laughing when I see the name she entered as contact.
Freddy Marchand, vigilante feminist.
Freddy
"Do you ever ride him?"
I smile at Millie's question. We're mucking out the stable, and as usual, Chester saunters in from outside, looking for the hay I usually leave for him. "I used to from time to time—bareback— but it's been a while."
"What, like without a saddle?"
"Yup. Why don't you grab a brush from that bag hanging from the door? He likes a brushing when he's munching on his treat. It's a good way to make friends with him."
The solemn girl I first met a couple of weeks ago, now has a smile on her face as she eagerly throws herself on the next task. I wasn't sure how she would react to being put to work, but she's handling it like a trooper. She seems more at ease than any of the other times I've seen her, and I'm not about to mess with that by bringing up her issues. That doesn't mean if she opens the door at some point, I won't barge through.
I toss the pitchfork into the wheelbarrow and head to the manure pile behind the barn, when the phone in my pocket vibrates.
"How's my girl?"
It takes me a moment to process Newt's gruff question appropriately. For a second there, I thought he was talking about me, and it caused a tingle to run down my back.
"Freddy? You there?"
"Yes, sorry." I clear my throat while scrambling for a clear thought. "I'm just dumping out the wheelbarrow. Millie helped me muck out the stable."
"She did? How on earth did you manage that? I can barely get her to put dirty dishes in the sink, let alone actually clean anything."
"She's great, not afraid to use some elbow grease and the animals love her." As I'm talking, I stick my head around the barn door. Millie is talking softly to Chester as she strokes the brush firmly along his neck and flank. "Hang on," I whisper into the phone, and quickly switch on FaceTime, aiming the camera into the barn.
"Hope you're recording that," he rumbles, and I step clear from the door, hoping Millie didn't hear. "That's a big pile of shit."
"Oops," I snort, realizing I have my camera aimed at the manure pile, and turn it toward me instead. He must have the phone right up to his face, because it looks a little distorted on the screen. "Are you new to FaceTime?" I ask, attempting to keep the smile from my voice.
"First time. Can you tell?"
"It's just that I can count your nose hairs."
I laugh softly as the camera is abruptly yanked back a foot, but I go quiet when it focuses on a set of well-formed shoulders and a very bare chest. Clearly Millie and I aren't the only ones at work. I can see a lake in the background.
"Better?" he asks, smiling into his phone.
"Much." I sound like I just woke up. Maybe I did. There's a long pause, as we both seem lost for words, before I break the spell. "Do you want to talk to Millie? Ask her if she wants to stay?"
"Sure."
I go back inside the barn and tap Millie on the shoulder. "Your dad wants a word," I tell her, handing over the phone and walking off so they can have some privacy. I can't help overhearing the young girl's enthusiastic yes, though. It puts a smile on my face.
"Dad wants to know what time he should pick me up."
We agree on three. That gives me enough time to make a run into town before the stores close.
This next week is the last week of school and we have Canada Day coming up. A lot of cottagers will be arriving before the weekend to beat the Friday and Saturday morning rush. With the July First celebrations scheduled for Saturday, it'll be a zoo in town. I usually stock up before the summer rush hits. With Alex and the boys arriving on Sunday, I'll need all the supplies I can get. Those guys can eat me out of house and home in no time.
"I made some pulled chicken last night; do you prefer it on a bun or in a salad?" I ask Millie as we make our way back to the house.
The animals are taken care of; Chester
is munching on some juicy spring grass, his coat shining, and George and Timber are back in their nice clean stall. Boulder is dozing in the shade of the porch, but I'm sure the moment I pull open the fridge, his ears will perk up.
"A bun, please," she says a bit timidly. She was fine while we were busy with my crew, but I'm guessing she senses that sitting down for lunch offers an opportunity to talk, something she'd probably prefer to avoid.
Boulder cracks an eyelid when we pass by him on the porch to go inside. No sign of Curly, but Larry and Moe are sharing the windowsill, catching some sun.
"I'll get lunch going, but do you want to grab some glasses from the cupboard? I have ice tea and apple juice in the fridge; take your pick. I'll have an ice tea, please." While Millie gets busy doing that, I quickly assemble lunch. "Do you want to eat inside or shall we go out on the porch?"
"Porch," she answers with a little smile, and follows me outside where we settle in the rattan chairs, plates on our laps.
We eat quietly for a while when Millie breaks the silence. "It's so quiet here, aren't you scared, being here alone?"
My hand freezes midair to my mouth. I'm not sure what prompted the question, but I plan to find out.
"No, I'm not. I've lived here for almost twelve years, I'm used to it. Besides, I have my animals to keep me company." I drop a hand down to where Boulder is hoping for crumbs at my feet and scratch his head. "They're my family."
"Don't you have any other family?" I turn to catch her looking at me intently.
"I do. My brother, his wife, and twin nephews. They live in Sudbury, but I see them every couple of months."
"And parents?"
I stifle a grin. It's becoming clear where she wants this conversation to go, and I'll gladly go along—anything to get her to open up.
"I was young when my dad died, and Mom passed away thirteen years ago. It's just been my brother and me since then."
She falls silent for a moment, seeming to think before speaking again. "Lucky you have your brother."
"Yes, it is. I still miss my mom, though. I think about her every day."
"So that doesn't go away?" I hear the wobble in her voice, and when I look over, I see tears welling in her big eyes. Reaching over, I grab her hand and squeeze.
"No, it never really goes away," I tell her honestly, shaking my head sadly. "But it doesn't make me as sad as it used to. I often smile when I think of her now, they're happy memories mostly."
Millie swallows hard and turns her attention to Boulder who, empathetic dog that he is, has moved to put his head on her lap. I give her a minute to compose herself and take a sip of the cold tea. Funny how I seem to get more insight from her questions than from her answers to mine.
"Aren't you ever afraid your brother might die?" I sit up straight at her whispered words and think carefully before responding.
"I think everyone who loves somebody is afraid of losing them. I guess there have been times when I've felt like that, worried something might happen. Usually when I know he's on the road somewhere, but I'll worry about him when he's sick too."
"Did you know Dad was a police officer?"
"I did know that."
"He got hurt last year. Not badly," she clarifies quickly, hearing my sharp intake of breath. "But a suspect he was chasing shot at him and the bullet grazed his shoulder." I watch as her bottom lip starts to tremble, and I cover her wringing hands with mine.
"That must've been scary. Did you talk to your dad about it?"
She shakes her head sharply. "He doesn't even know I know."
"So if your dad didn't tell you, how did you find out?"
"Brittany Cross. She was in my class. She knew because her dad's a cop too."
"I see." And I do, but I would love to hear it from her.
Once again patience pays off when she finally admits, "I think that's when I may have started."
"Cutting?"
"Yeah..."
"Your dad's retired now, right?" This time it's Millie who makes me wait. She knows I know her father retired from the force, and being a smart kid, she understands what my question is really about.
"Yes," she finally says, "he quit a few months ago." Then she turns to me with a tortured expression on her face.
"So why can't I stop?"
Newt
The phone rings just as I step out of the shower.
Despite the fact we've barely scratched summer, the temperatures in recent days have been up there, enough to leave me grimy and sweaty after working in the hot sun for hours. I was so focused on what I was doing; I lost all track of time. When I finally stepped back, satisfied with the progress I'd made on the extended deck along the waterfront, it was already almost three. Not wanting to show up on Freddy's doorstep stinking of hard work, I risked being late and hopped in the shower. I choose not to analyze why that seemed so important.
I assume it's Freddy calling, wondering where the hell I am, but the number on my screen is listed as unknown.
"Newt Tobias."
"Hi, my son asked me to call this number. I'm Ella. Ella Baldwin. Jordan—my son—says he's invited over and you needed to talk to me?" The slightly slurred voice of the woman on the other end tells me she either just woke up, or started early on her weekend drinking. Either way, I already feel a bit sorry for the kid.
Tucking the phone between ear and shoulder, I manage to struggle into clean jeans, while making arrangements for Jordan to be dropped off here around two tomorrow. I offer to drive him home and promise I'll have him home before seven.
"I'm sorry, I have to run. I'm late for an appointment. Look forward to seeing Jordan tomorrow." I quickly hang up the phone. It's the only way I could think to get Ella, who apparently is not only half in the bag but curious as shit as well, off the phone.
By the time I walk out of the house, it's already close to three thirty.
-
Millie's sitting on the porch with Freddy when I drive up, apparently deep in conversation, because they both jump when I get out and shut the car door. Only the dog is aware, his head stuck through the porch railing. He's waiting at the top of the steps for me and easily let me pat his head.
Millie's face looks tear streaked, but when I open my mouth to ask if she's okay, I catch Freddy sharply shaking her head no. With a casual "Hey, Dad," to my hello, Millie saunters off to say goodbye to the other animals, giving me a minute alone with Freddy.
"Did something happen?" I ask, when my daughter is out of earshot.
"She talked, and I got some insight into what is going on. She says she doesn't mind me talking to you, but I'd prefer to do that at a later time. She got a bit emotional, but I think she may be relieved too. We'll see."
"That's good, right?"
"It's a good start," she says, her pretty brown eyes smiling. "Why don't I call you on Monday? We'll set up a time to meet."
"I have a better idea; why don't I bring you lunch on Monday, and we can talk then?"
"I walk the dog during my lunch break." She tilts her head to the side, almost in a challenge.
I don't even hesitate to jump in with both feet.
"I'll bring it to go, and wear my hiking boots."
I leave her standing on the porch, still chuckling, and go in search of my daughter.
NINE
Newt
"You must be Jordan."
The scrawny kid getting out of the vaguely familiar, decked-out pickup truck looks decidedly uncomfortable when he sees me. I happened to be looking in the garage for the spare battery pack, for my screwdriver, when the truck pulled up. I can barely see the person behind the wheel because of the darkly tinted windows I know must be illegal.
I start walking over to introduce myself, but before I'm even halfway there, he backs up and peels away, leaving the kid standing in my driveway, looking a little lost.
"Hi," he says timidly, when I reach him, politely holding out his hand. At least the boy is well behaved, even if I can't say the same for the pers
on dropping him off.
"Come on around back, Millie is on the dock with her earbuds in listening to music. She probably didn't hear the truck pull up. Was that your mom dropping you off?" I add casually when he falls into step beside me.
"My brother. Mom wasn't feeling well and Dad's working."
"Gotcha. There she is." I point at my daughter, who is on her back with her feet dangling in the water. "Want a drink before you go out there?"
I barely hear his, "No, thank you," because he's already making a beeline for the water.
I watch, curious to see how Millie responds to the boy. She's been withdrawn since I picked her up yesterday. Normally, I might've pushed a little to get her to communicate, but I didn't want to mess with any progress that may have been made. I'll get a better idea after I have a chance to talk to Freddy tomorrow. An appointment I probably shouldn't be looking forward to this much.
A squeal draws my attention back to the dock, where my girl apparently just spotted her friend. She scrambles to her feet, and that's when I notice how scrawny Jordan really is. Millie isn't particularly tall, but the kid is substantially smaller. He looks like a target for bullies: skinny, small, with floppy hair that could use a cut, and black-rimmed glasses much too large for his face. I'm glad my girl seems to look out for him.
Happy to see her chattering away, more animated than I've seen her in a while, I leave them be and head back to the garage to find that damn spare pack.
-
"Dad, you're getting a sunburn."
I straighten up from where I've been crouched over, trying to use a screw bit on my drill to get those deck screws in. I never was able to locate that extra battery, so now the one I had is inside charging.
Nothing can make you feel old faster than working bent over. Jesus, my back is killing me. And apparently it's burned too. I'd pulled off my shirt and wrapped it around my head. The thinning hair, I prefer not to think about, no longer is adequate protection against the sun.
"I'm heading inside to grab a quick shower before I start on dinner anyway," I assure her, pulling the shirt off my head and using it to mop the sweat from my face.