Dream Big, Stella! by Ashley Farley

Author:Ashley Farley [Farley, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ashley Farley

I don’t see either Naomi or Jazz again until late the following afternoon. I’m practicing my driving when I spot Jazz alone down by the lake. Slamming on the brakes, I get out of the car and call her name. When she sees me, she runs over and I lift her off her feet, spinning her around.

I set her down. “What’re you doing out here alone, kiddo?”

She sticks her thumb in her mouth, talking around it. “Mommy told me to go outside and play.”

“All by yourself?”

She nods, and with finger still in mouth, she says, “She’s drunk.”

Alarm bells go off in my head. So, I was right yesterday. Naomi had been drinking. And what does a six-year-old even know about being drunk. “What makes you think that, Jazzy?”

“That’s what Daddy says when she drinks the stinky yellow stuff in the tall bottle.”

Uh-oh. Not good.

Her lips make a popping noise when she pulls her thumb out of her mouth. “I like it when you call me Jazzy.”

“Then I’ll call you that all the time. Say, Jazzy, how about that promised trip to the library? I need to return a book, and we can pick out a few for you while we’re there.”

She grins. “Can we go in Billy’s Jeep?”

I don’t know why the mention of Billy’s name surprises me. Of course, she knew Billy. Is it extortion to pry information from a six-year-old?

“Sorry, kiddo, but we’ll have to walk. I’m just learning to drive. I don’t have my license yet.”

“Bummer,” she says with a pout.

“I’ll tell you what. You can ride with me to take the Jeep back to the cottage. But first we need to let your mom know where we’re going.” I thumb off a quick text to Naomi. Found Jazz wondering around the property alone. I’m taking her with me to the library.

I don’t wait for Naomi’s approval. She can get angry all she wants. I’m looking out for her child’s best interests.

Parking beside the cottage, we go inside for my purse and library book. As an afterthought, I grab a canvas tote bag out of the coat closet for our books. The tote is leftover swag from an old Jimmy Buffet concert with a parrot on the front. Jazz smiles when she sees it and insists on carrying it.

We head off, hands clasped and arms swinging, toward town. “Tell me about Billy,” I say. “What was he like?”

“Billy was nice. And funny. He made up silly songs and played them for me on his guitar. He liked to watch SpongeBob and eat licorice.” She sticks out her tongue. “Yuck.”

I laugh. “I agree. Yuck is right.”

“And Billy loved to read.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I wish he were here now. He could help me learn to read.”

I stop at the next corner and lean down to face her. “Have you asked your mommy to help you with your reading?”

Her lip quivers. “Yes. But she’s always too busy.”

“Well then, Jazzy, how about if I help you?” Whatever Naomi has against me, she’ll have to get over it, because I can’t avoid this kid any longer.

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