Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I wait an hour before I slip out of bed and venture downstairs. The house is quiet. I find her on the front porch, sitting quietly on the glider in the dark.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask.
She shrugs without glancing up.
I sit beside her. After a few moments of silent rocking, she rests her head on my shoulder. I slide my arm around her shoulders, hugging her close.
“When’s it going to end?” she whispers.
“I wish I had the answer.” I kiss the top of her head. “However long it takes, we’ll get through it together.”
Eventually, she falls asleep with her head in my lap. I stroke her hair and watch the sky above the pines grow brighter with each passing minute. A fox crosses the driveway, and I consider waking Kenzie up to show him to her, but she looks so peaceful, asleep on my lap.
A rush of emotion hits me like a battering ram as I gaze down at my little girl. Love mixed with admiration and protectiveness, wrapped up inside the drive to do better. Be better. The best I can be, for McKenzie.
I brush a lock of hair out of her face so it won’t tickle her nose. Unfortunately, in doing so, I manage to tickle her cheek.
She opens her eyes and smiles at me.
“What time is it?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“Early. Sun’s not quite up yet.”
“How long was I out for?”
“A couple hours.”
She nods and rights herself, stretching her arms overhead. She seems lighter after a little bit of sleep, less burdened.
“Want some breakfast?” I ask.
“Depends. What’re we having?”
“Whatever you want.”
She closes one eye, scrunching up her face.
“Pancakes?”
I chuckle. “We can do pancakes.”
“Yay.” She kisses me softly. “I’ll go make sure the chicks have food and water. I forgot to check on them last night after...everything.”
I pull her in for a kiss before her smile can turn into a full frown.
“Meet you inside,” I say.
She hops off of the porch and heads for the back door to the garage. Even her stride appears more buoyant; I don’t want to speak too soon, but if she can manage to stay this resilient in the face of everything she’s dealing with, there’s nothing we can’t get through.
A mournful wail slices through the birdsong.
“Kenzie,” I shout.
I leap up from the glider, vault the porch steps, and sprint toward the garage. I find her on the floor, cradling a ball of brown-and-yellow fluff between her palms.
“She’s dead,” Kenzie says. “She drowned in the waterer.”
My heart aches for her. “Oh, Kenzie...”
Tears rain down her cheeks and drip off the tip of her nose. I glance inside the brooder. Sure enough, one of the stones we tossed into the water supply to prevent this exact thing from occurring has been pushed out, leaving a small gap of open water, just wide enough for a chick to drown.
I kneel next to Kenzie with my hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, baby. But these things happen."
“I should’ve checked on them last night. I could have put the stone back.”
“Or you might’ve found the body sooner. For all we know, it happened an hour ago.”
“You don’t know that!” She struggles to her feet without the use of her hands and stalks out of the garage.
I scrub at my beard and sigh. Of course this isn’t just about the chick. She’s taking this death personally because of everything else that’s currently going wrong in her life.
I toss the stone back into the waterer and then follow Kenzie outside. When I catch up to her, she’s in the garden, on her knees, digging a hole with her bare hands. I hang back and watch as she gingerly lowers the chick’s body into the hole, and then smooths it over with dirt.
Her sadness is palpable. I give her a minute and then make my way over to where she’s kneeling.
“Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you some pancakes.” When she doesn’t move, I add, “This isn’t your fault, Kenz. You couldn’t have saved it.”
She laughs without mirth. “You should pin that one to the fridge.”
“What?”
She scowls up at me. “You’re trying to make everything better with pancakes. But pancakes won’t bring that chick back to life, and they won’t fix what’s broken inside me.”
“Kenzie, I’m not trying to—”
“You can’t save me, Austin, any more than I can save that chick.” She brushes past me on her way back toward the house. “There’s no time for pancakes anyway. I’m going to be late for work.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to go in today.”
She turns around.
“I’ve already missed too many days this month.” She dons a smile like a piece of clothing. “Besides, keeping busy is good for me.”
As reluctant as I am to take her back into the city, I know how much she likes to feel useful. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather stay here and work on the garden?”