Wildling by Lynn Burke

Author:Lynn Burke [Burke, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lynn Burke

19

Flynn

Worry over how Saige had run from me kept me awake long into the night as Dog slumbered against my side.

Had she returned to the cabin with tears still rolling down her cheeks? If so, Pa would have taken note. He would have poked and prodded. Maybe teased or gave her a hard time.

I shouldn’t have left again. I should have followed on her heels, apologized, and made sure things were okay between us—and with her—before allowing her anywhere near that prick. And until I had that thought, it was too late. Both she and Pa would have been in bed for a few hours.

In the morning, I hoofed it homeward, but slowed my steps upon seeing Saige doing laundry in the barrel out front of the cabin.

Pa worked on digging a new hole for the outhouse that needed to be moved, and if I continued on my course, I’d end up finishing for him.

I settled onto Ma’s rock, elbows on knees while leaning down to watch Saige work. While not the fastest worker, she didn’t waste any moves, her energy focused and making sure she thoroughly accomplished her task—another part of her Pa didn’t appreciate.

I’d heard him grumbled about her slow ass more than once, but what rush could there be living out in the wilds unless scrambling to get firewood stored up? What awaited her after laundering?

The garden sprouted green and lush, rumbling my stomach for fresh food. Saige’s chickens pecked around at the ground, their pen too far away for the clucks to reach me.

Dog let out a sigh and settled onto the ground, flitting the memory of Ma’s drawing through my mind. She’d drawn me sitting here.

I settled my hand atop the arm rests she’d stacked, the stone cool beneath my calloused palm. The left wobbled a bit, but held steady.

My attention roamed to her headstone a little ways away, and sudden exhaustion sagged my shoulders stretching out the flannel covering them. Eyes closing, I tried to recall her fingers in my hair. Her smile. The light in her green eyes that mine didn’t hold, no matter how similar we looked. I didn’t have a true image of her hidden away—Pa had burned all of her stuff after her death while muttering about her leaving him, too—but I remembered the soft curve of her lips when she’d smile at me, and the plumping of her cheeks when she laughed at my wildness.

Traipsing barefoot across dirt and stone. Ripping holes in my pants and the elbows of my shirts from tumbling and crawling around like an animal with Dog.

Miss you so damn much, Ma.

Letting out a heavy exhale, I returned my focus on Saige. She wrung out what looked like the sheet from their bed.

Pa still used the spade on the earth.

Seeing Saige would be safe for a time, I shuffled over to Ma’s grave and sat in the weeds, plucking the ones against her headstone. No name, no date. Just a slab of stone I’d lugged to the spot five years or so after her death, when I’d been strong enough to do so.

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