Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
“Don’t tell Daddy,” Meg wailed.
“What? Why?” I asked, pulling her toward me to check on the damage.
“’Cause he’ll be mad,” she wailed.
“Olive, can you close the door so your brother doesn’t escape?”
“Yeah.”
I looked back at Meg, turning her around. Luckily, the mess wasn’t bad. “Daddy won’t be mad, crazy girl,” I soothed, running my hand over her head. “Daddy totally poops his pants.”
Olive snickered.
“No he doesn’t,” Meg hiccupped.
“He definitely has.”
“When?” Olive asked, her face lighting up.
“You remember when we went to the fair last summer?” I asked, wiping the tears off Meg’s cheeks. “And we got elephant ears, but Daddy wanted that big turkey leg?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he totally pooped himself after he ate that.”
“No he didn’t,” Olive squealed in delight.
“Oh, yeah he did,” I replied. He hadn’t, but it had been a very close thing. He’d been sweating buckets the entire drive home and had to sprint into the house. “Totally pooped his pants.”
Meg laughed, still hiccupping.
“It happens to everyone, baby. No big deal. We’ll just clean you back up.”
“Forrest, don’t eat her hair,” Olive scolded behind me. “Hair isn’t for eating.”
“You stay right here, Meg.” Getting to my feet, I held back a sigh. “Olive grab your pull-up and follow me to brother’s room.”
The next few minutes were a game of musical children. After putting Forrest in his crib to play and leaving Olive with him so he didn’t scream bloody murder, I grabbed a package of baby wipes and cleaned Meg up as much as I could. Then it was back to the bathroom to wash her off and spray her with the shower until she screeched with happiness.
“I think Forrest is pooping now,” Olive called while I got Meg into her pajamas.
“Of course he is.” I looked at Meg. “You wanna brush your own teeth tonight?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, go do that. No fighting with Olive and no using her toothbrush.”
Meg ran into the bathroom while I made my way back to Forrest’s room.
“Want to brush your own teeth?” I asked Olive.
“Yes!”
“Okay, go brush them. No fighting with Meg and no using her toothbrush.”
“Okay! I think Forrest was just tooting!”
“Thank God,” I sang, watching as Forrest held the rail of his crib and jumped on the mattress. “Why are you such a wild boy? Huh?”
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I finally gave in and sent a text to Mark.
Hey, baby. Hope you had a good day. I’ve had a long one. Call when you can. Love you.
I lifted Forrest out of his crib and was headed to the bathroom to make sure the girls weren’t trashing it when I heard the front door open and my dad’s voice calling out.
“Bumblebee? Where you at?”
“PAPA!” the girls screamed, racing past me.
“Be right there,” I called. I looked down at Forrest who was kicking his legs and bouncing with excitement. “Your grandfather is dead meat. He knows better than to show up at bedtime.”
My frustration was gone in an instant when I rounded the corner into the living room and found both my parents there.
“What?” I asked, the world tilting under me. “Who?”
“Let’s go get a treat,” my mom told the girls, gripping their hands.
“But we already brushed our teeth,” Olive replied in confusion.
“We’ll just have to brush them again. No biggie.” My mom ushered them out of the room.
“Dad?” I croaked.
“Gimme the boy,” he said, coming close. He took Forrest from me and perched him on his forearm. “Got your legs under ya?”
“Mark,” I breathed, understanding hit me with the force of a semi.
“He was shot,” my dad said calmly, his hand on my arm as I started to shake.
“Is he dead?” Black dots floated through my vision.
“No. No he’s not.”
“Oh my god.” I stumbled to the couch.
“Nus?” Forrest asked, starting to whimper.
“He’s up at the hospital in Portland,” my dad said, crouching in front of me. “I’m gonna take you up there.”
“I, uh, I have to—” Taking Forrest from my dad, I laid him across my lap and pulled my shirt up so he could nurse. Once he’d stopped fussing, I met my dad’s eyes again. “Is he going to die?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “He’s in pretty bad shape, but they got the best doctors in the state there. Top trauma hospital and all that. He’s in good hands.”
“Okay.” I looked down at my completely oblivious son, his eyes closed in satisfaction. He was curled up against his mama, getting the milk he wanted, and thought everything was right with the world. “Um, I need to call someone to stay with the kids.”
“Already done,” my dad said as headlights flashed over the front windows.
“Who’s coming?”
“Your brother and sisters,” Dad murmured. His lips quirked. “And half the club, I’m guessin’. You know how they are.”
Closing my eyes, I shuddered. I needed to get dressed, pack a bag, talk to the girls. What the hell was I supposed to tell them? Nothing? It’s not like they could even understand what was happening.