Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“You don’t know anything about me at all. And I don’t want you to know anything about me.”
“Sylvie… When are you going to accept—”
“I’m not going to accept anything,” the little girl yells, and I hear a distinct stomping of her foot.
It’s time for me to intervene. I move quickly into the open doorway and Sylvie sees me, her eyes widening. “Ms. DeLeon… what are you doing here?”
Ethan turns and levels a bewildered look at me, although he speaks to his daughter. “I invited her over for dinner. Now, would you please come down and join us?”
I step farther into the room and say to Ethan, “Actually… do you mind if I have a moment alone with Sylvie?”
Ethan shakes his head. “Take your time. We’ll hold on eating until you come down.”
He leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. I pin my gaze on Sylvie who looks slightly abashed. She most certainly knows I heard their conversation. “Having a tough time?”
Sylvie looks away and doesn’t answer.
I don’t press her and instead walk around the room, taking in the décor. “Your room is lovely. I can see why you enjoy spending time in here.”
“The only place I can have privacy,” Sylvie mutters.
I turn to face the little girl, clasping my hands before me. “It seems to me the Blackburns are making great efforts to give you the things you need. Privacy, a safe beautiful space, a lovely home, good food.”
“They’re not my family.”
I lift my shoulder, considering her words. “Maybe not in the traditional sense. At least not right now. But families can be built. If you only give it a chance.”
“I don’t want to give it a chance. I want to go back and live with Lionel and Rosemund.”
I don’t respond right away and instead move to the edge of the bed where I sit. I pat the spot beside me and Sylvie reluctantly moves to climb up. She fiddles with the edge of her shirt, her eyes downcast.
“I’m not even going to say how much I understand what you’re feeling, because I don’t think anyone can. This might be the hardest thing you’ll face in your lifetime and it’s definitely not fair for a girl your age to be going through this. But your father—”
Sylvie’s head whips my way and she glares. “He’s not my father.”
“He is.” I stare her down until her gaze falls away. I reach out gently, placing my fingertips under Sylvie’s chin and force her to look at me. “He is. By science and by law. Maybe not in your heart, but he is your father in all the ways that matter right at this moment.”
“I hate him.”
My hand falls away and I smile at Sylvie. “Good to know. Did you know the word hate is an old English term that means to regard someone with extreme ill will or someone you have a strong aversion to?”
Sylvie makes a scoffing sound. “That sounds right.”
“Also, rooted in sorrow,” I say. “And I think you know a little something about that.”
Sylvie remains stubbornly silent.
“Do you know who Nelson Mandela is?”
Sylvie frowns, thrown off guard by the history lesson. She shakes her head.
“He was the former president of South Africa and is widely regarded as one of the wisest, kindest men. He basically said hatred was taught but that if people are taught to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
Sylvie looks away and I can tell she understands what I’m saying.
I take her hand in my own and pat it. “You don’t know anything about Ethan Blackburn or his family, and by all appearances they seem to be lovely people. I would only ask you to consider the basis of your hatred. What have you personally observed about them that would warrant that? Think about all the horrible, mean things they have done to you. The ways in which they abuse you. The ways in which they deprive you. If you can latch on to those and give me solid examples of why you feel this way, Sylvie… I will do whatever I can to help you out of the situation.
“But if you look inside yourself honestly and say that the reason you hate the Blackburns is because of what other people have told you, I’m going to implore you to think carefully about whether your feelings are justified. I’m also going to tell you there are two sides to every story. So whatever you may have heard, please at least be open-minded that it could be wrong. Or even semi-wrong. We all know the truth typically lies somewhere in the middle of two opposite lies.”
I wait a pounding heartbeat to see what she does. I fully expect her to dig her heels in deeper and dismiss everything I’ve just proposed. Instead, her green eyes fill with tears and her lower lip trembles. “I’m just so angry all the time, it’s hard for me to feel anything else.”