The Forgotten Child, Lorhainne Eckhart [bearly read books txt] 📗

Emily loved to spend time in the kitchen, baking and creating meals. Brad needed his animals and the outdoors. The kitchen brought balance to her thoughts and emotions, and gave her clarity and peace of mind. She was also a damn good cook. And that wasn’t ego. She loved putting together a good meal for her loved ones to enjoy, and for the first time since she could remember, she truly felt needed.

When Mary Haske dropped by that morning to clean, she brought with her two freezer bags of Blackberries, and mentioned how much Brad loved pie. So what did Emily do? She took the hint and ran with it, baking not one but two Blackberry pies, along with a marinated roast for dinner. The aroma alone made Emily’s mouth water.

It had been an exhausting week. Brad scheduled a doctor’s appointment after breakfast Monday and began the long, grueling path to obtaining an autism diagnosis. Emily contacted the mothers group and provided Brad with names of a local therapist and private psychologist in Olympia. Brad worked the impossible. In two days, he’d somehow arranged for a speech and language pathologist, and an occupational therapist to work with Trevor at the ranch once a week.

Emily grinned like a silly schoolgirl, just thinking of Brad and how dedicated a father he could be. Heat pooled inside her tummy until it ached. “Oh, bad idea, girl.” And she knew why. He was her boss. She lived under his roof. But he didn’t treat her like an employee. He spoke to her like a friend.

They’d developed a nightly routine, similar to spouses, companions. She’d put the kids to bed; join Brad either outside on the porch, or in the living room. They’d talk about their day, and their dreams.

Brad planned to expand the ranch. Buy up the land around him, even though he was now one of the largest dairy producers in the area, and raise cattle for beef.

She loved listening to his confident whiskey-filled voice when he holed up in his office, off the living room, making calls to arrange transport for a hundred head of cattle. Then a feed order, next his realtor, a burly bald-headed man named Chuck, to put in an offer on a twenty-acre piece of property on the other side of Mary Haske.

Last night Brad told her the soil on that land was really good and the water pure, clean and plentiful. He’d also mentioned he was waiting for the day Mary put her property up for sale. When she did, he’d make sure it was his. A small parcel, but Mary’s husband had been sharp when he’d sold off most of his land. He’d held onto the best piece on this part of the peninsula, holding the water rights to the creek which flowed down to Brad’s property.

Emily grabbed the salad out of the fridge. She closed the door, and nearly dropped the bowl. Trevor stood in the middle of the kitchen barefoot, wearing nothing but a saggy disposable diaper, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, Trevor, I didn’t see you.” She could smell the heavy ammonia from his dirty diaper. Emily lifted Trevor up. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her as she started up the stairs. Halfway up, the screen door slammed.

“Lunch ready?” Brad’s deep, soft voice tugged on her heart as if a line had knotted around it. She walked back down carrying his son.

“Oh, man, something smells good.” Cliff and Mac strode right behind Brad, both lifting their noses in the air, sniffing.

“It is. I just need to change Trevor, and wake Katy up.” Emily couldn’t erase the smile from her face if she'd wanted to.

“Need help.” Brad yelled behind her as she trotted up the stairs.

“Grab the salad dressing out of the fridge, everything else is ready to go.”

“Okay.”

Emily pulled off Trevor’s diaper and dumped it in the garbage; she helped him into his big boy underwear, a pair of blue sweats and Buzz Lightyear T-shirt, leaving him barefoot. Katy wandered into the bathroom, pulled off her own dry diaper and sat on the toilet. Girls were almost self-training. “Lunch’s ready. Who’s hungry?”

“Me, Mama.” Katy pulled up her pink sweats and flushed the toilet; Emily pulled a stool up to the sink, and helped Katy wash her hands.

With the kids, Emily walked back into the kitchen. Cliff and Mac were already sitting at the table, digging into the fresh bread and butter. Brad cut the roast, while Emily sat Trevor in his chair and Katy in her booster seat, dishing up the kids’ food and cutting it into bite-size pieces. Emily put a spoon in Trevor’s hand, helping him grip the handle. He still didn’t know how to use a spoon or fork. He preferred to eat with his hands. But Emily was relentless, working with him at each meal. In the short time she’d been here, they’d come from Trevor launching his spoon, screaming, to where he now took three or four bites from his spoon before dropping it. Emily would reward him after each successful small step with praise and a gummy bear.

Today, it was as if he’d overcome some obstacle. He took the spoon without fuss or whining. Emily glanced over at Brad. “Did you see that?”

“Great job, Em.”

Except when Emily glanced down at Trevor, he now used his other hand to play the table like a piano. That was progress for you—one-step forward and another back. Brad curled his fingers around the back of the empty chair beside him, and pulled it out.

“Sit down, Em.”

Every time he spoke. His deep, husky drawl was like music, turning her insides all soft and fluttery. Emily sat, very aware of his closeness, becoming a silly schoolgirl every time she passed him a bowl or plate of food and their fingers touched. And each time she looked up, he watched her in a way that was personal.

Trevor tossed his spoon across the table, breaking the magic spell where it clanked and landed beside Cliff’s plate. At least it didn’t hit him. Last week his spoon hit Mac on the side of the head. Trevor, with his tiny fingers, mushed his potatoes and broccoli between his fingers, cramming a fistful in his mouth.

“No.” Emily jumped up and leaned across the table, grabbing the spoon.

“It’s all right Emily; he didn’t mean nothing by it.” Said Cliff in his raspy smoker’s voice, followed by his nervous laugh.

“Actually it’s not all right, Cliff. Trevor can’t learn unless you stay vigilant.” Emily wiped the food from Trevor’s hand with a dishcloth and put the spoon back in his hand. “Try again.” Emily said as she scooped a piece of potato on his spoon, and then let go of his hand. This was a fine line with Trevor. There was only so much hand over hand you could do with him before he’d freak out from being touched.

Trevor scooped up another piece of meat himself and shoved it in his mouth. “Good job, Trevor. Eat.”

When Emily glanced over at Brad, he was already finishing up his plate, guzzling down the last of his coffee and pushing away from the table—distracted again. The man was such a mystery; the way he changed from hot to cold, a difficult and complex man.

“Great lunch, Emily. Cliff, Mac, I’m going to need your help, as soon as you’re done, to move the horses. Don’t dawdle.”

She’d be a fool to miss the annoyance that dripped from his sharp words. What the hell happened? Her heart sank a little as Brad went out the back door without a simple glance in her direction. Mac scraped his plate and Cliff downed his coffee; both pushed away from the table, nodding their thanks as they hurried after their boss. Brad, teasing and thoughtful one moment, turned quicker than she could snap her fingers; turning her world upside down, leaving her mystified as to what she’d done. Emily pushed her plate away. Well, whatever it was, Emily was sure time scooping up manure would most likely take the edge off of whatever bothered him. Or so she hoped.