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)
It humbles me, the courage it takes. “The police believe it was Lionel.”
Sylvie’s face crumples. Tears pool and shine through her lashes. She shakes her head and tries to tug her hand away from Ethan. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that. Why would you even think that?”
“I don’t know what to think, baby,” her dad explains softly. “I’m only reporting what the police think. They’re questioning Lionel, but they have evidence your uncle Gabe found that points to him being the one who did it. Gabe turned it over to the police.”
“Uncle Gabe?” she asks, as if she’s never heard of the man. I can’t even begin to imagine how confusing this is.
I wait for her to ask if Gabe or Rosemund are complicit because that’s been lurking in the back of my mind. I wonder what Ethan thinks of that. Common sense tells me Gabe is innocent since he turned his dad in, and having his dad arrested in no way benefits Gabe himself. I have no clue about Rosemund, but it’s not up to me to figure that out. It’s for the police.
“What’s going to happen?” Sylvie asks, glancing at me briefly before turning her attention back to her dad.
Ethan shakes his head, sadness etched on the planes of his face. “I honestly don’t know. If the police believe they have a strong case against Lionel, they’ll arrest him.”
“Arrest him for what?” she demands, and her dilemma is as clear as it is heartbreaking. She wants to know exactly what Lionel was trying to do and she’s afraid to come out and ask it.
It’s a question Ethan can’t answer. “I don’t know that either, Sylvie. I don’t know what laws he might have broken.”
“But why?” she persists, tears flowing freely down her face. “Why give me penicillin? He knew it could kill me.”
And there it is… the horrific bottom line. Sylvie sobs and her father pulls her into his chest, stroking her hair. My heart feels like it’s been crushed in a vise grip and I reach out to place my hand on Sylvie’s back. It’s all I can do for now, but I want her to know she’s got two people in this room who will get her through this.
“Why would he want to kill me?” she wails, her entire body shaking.
Ethan stares at me in panic, unable to provide solace to his heartbroken child. He could go into details about the trust and how it would revert to the Mardraggon family if she died before she was twenty-one, but we both talked about how far to go with that information. While Ethan wants to be transparent to prepare Sylvie for dark days ahead, we talked in the kitchen before she came down from her shower. My advice was to keep it limited at this time so she isn’t overwhelmed.
This is a subject far too important for me, Ethan or any of the Blackburns to shoulder with her. I shot out dozens of texts to teachers and other principals in the area, pulling any strings I could to find a therapist for Sylvie. While she’s acclimated well the last few weeks to her new circumstances, this will test the child’s resilience and confidence. I told Ethan I’d find her someone and by God, I will.
“Sylvie,” I say softly. She doesn’t move from Ethan’s embrace but turns her head on his chest to stare back at me. “We may never understand Lionel’s intentions. All we can do is wait to see what the police figure out. The important thing to understand is that you are safe.”
“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again,” Ethan vows, and I hear the misery in his voice. He’s taken on all the blame for this since he’s the one who let her go stay the night with the Mardraggons.
He’s the one who put her in Lionel’s clutches.
Sylvie starts crying again and Ethan gathers her in close, pulls her onto his lap and rocks his daughter. He’s such a natural at this… an inherent ability to nurture and give unconditional love. While her world has just been torn to pieces again, I still count Sylvie as one lucky little girl.
♦
It’s barely eight p.m. and I’m exhausted. The day’s emotional toll has reduced me to mind numbness, but it’s nothing compared to what Sylvie and Ethan are going through. He’s upstairs right now, checking on her. She fell asleep about an hour ago, curled against me on the couch at Ethan’s house. We came back here to be around the entire family, Ethan believing she needed to be surrounded by love and solidarity more than anything.
He wasn’t wrong. It was a good choice.
The fact that he asked me to come, to be a part of it, was a message I received loud and clear.