The Bequest by B. E. Baker

Author:B. E. Baker [Baker, B. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Purple Puppy Publishing

15

Abigail

I survived five terribly awkward horseback lessons with Steve, including one where he showed me how to toss a rope. I insisted I didn’t need to know—Jeff and Kevin would be there—but if the kids were learning, he said I should learn too.

With his arms around me, it was really hard to remember that I didn’t want him to show me around Manila.

But as soon as he left, my resolve strengthened. Being shown around by a ridiculously attractive, age appropriate, exceptionally skilled horse whisperer would have been exciting.

Having a man who’s an expert at managing dangerous situations, a man who’s used to getting everything he wants, a man who’s probably the most eligible bachelor in three counties show me around?

Hard pass.

It’s everything I can’t handle, and everything I don’t want. It’s too much, and the risk of injury is far too high. Every time I forget, I see Whitney’s cast and I remember. When you do something risky, you can get hurt. Badly. I’ve already endured about all the hurt I can handle this decade.

“You ready, Mom?” Ethan’s been up for half an hour—I heard him rummaging around. That’s the curse of living here. I hear every little noise that any of my children make, including Gabe complaining that Ethan’s too loud and it’s too early.

Of course, in the months after Nate died, I would wake up most nights because of a nightmare that one of the kids was dead. Our house is so large and spacious that my children feel far away. So it’s been a blessing too, this close-quarters living.

Most things in life are like that: the things I love are also the things that make me bonkers.

The one good thing that has come from Nate’s passing is that I have a little more patience for the things that make me insane, because I have a greater appreciation for my blessings now that one is gone.

“Mom?” Ethan’s voice outside my door is both eager and nervous.

“I’m ready,” I say.

When he pushes the door open, he has his hands over his eyes, but one finger is cracked so he can kind of see.

“If I was naked, how would that help?”

“Shut up.” He tosses something fairly large at me, but I dodge and it lands on my bed.

“What’s that?”

“I made a little pack for everyone.” He shrugs. “Gatorade, water, jerky, granola bars, and nuts.”

“Look at you, Martha Stewart.”

“You think Whitney and Gabe will be fine?”

I sigh. “Amanda will be—”

“You think she’s going to pay attention to them?”

“I think she will, yes,” I say. “And Maren has been different this week.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Ethan’s eyes harden, and his tone darkens.

“She’s been trying,” I say. “Ever since Whitney’s arm—”

“Great,” he says. “Well, I’ll be sure to remember that when I want to punch her in the nose the very next time we talk.”

I roll my eyes. Ethan’s always so melodramatic, but he rarely means what he says. It’s almost all talk, like the tiny dog that barks incessantly, or the cat that hisses but curls up at your side the second you sit down.

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