That truth bomb hits far too close to home. I pause chewing. In most cases, the food might turn to ash in my mouth. This meal is just too damn good.
“At least she was good for something,” I comment absently.
His smile twists into a much sadder version. “Got that right.”
There I go, soiling the positive energy. I swallow hard. “Let’s brighten the mood, hmm? Tell me about your favorite Thanksgiving memory, Ronnie.”
“Being with you and Daddy,” she answers quickly.
“But this one is still happening,” I laugh.
“Still counts,” she insists. “It’s already my favorite ‘cause you’re here. There’s three of us now. It’s almost like I have a mommy, but I know you’re just my nanny. You’re gonna be my nanny forever, m’kay?”
Ah, shit. There goes my bottom lip. The wobble would put a drunk girl to shame. I blink rapidly, trying to reel in the emotional mess that’s consumed my mental state.
Byron gawks at me like I’ve sprouted horns. I don’t blame him. This is very uncharacteristic for me.
And Ronnie isn’t done. “I love you, Frannie. Like this.” She leans toward her dad and traces a line down the straight slope of his nose, tapping his chin to end the symbolic gesture. “That’s how we show our love.”
I’ve seen them exchange the action on a few occasions, but didn’t understand the meaning. “Oh, my. What a very special gesture. Did you come up with that?”
“Daddy did,” Ronnie explains. “He started doing it when I was just a baby. Maybe I can do it to you someday.” The hope in her voice is my undoing.
Just when I thought I’d contained my tears, a single drop sneaks out and paints my cheek. I clear my throat, but there’s still a frog stuck in there. “I’m not sure what to say,” I croak.
“Your acceptance is plenty,” Byron utters almost gently.
I find myself nodding. “I’d really like that, kiddo. Thank you.”
“Welcome,” Ronnie chirps.
Her father and I might not get along, but this little girl is determined to steal my heart. I just might let her.
“I’m not sure anyone has really loved me before,” I add, almost as an afterthought.
Her adorable face screws up into disappointment. “How’s that possible?”
My shrug is casual, trying to play off the deep wounds that have scarred me. “I didn’t have a normal childhood. Not even close. Believe it or not, this is the first Thanksgiving I’ve ever celebrated.”
Shock slackens their features in unison. It’s tough for them to picture not having a tight-knit family. For me, that’s just the way it was. I didn’t know an alternative existed until I was much older. I’m still coming to terms with that.
This is what it’s like to live in a home filled with compassion and warmth. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. I probably shouldn’t. The moment I do, it’ll get ripped away like everything else.
“Good thing you’re ours now.” The relief in Ronnie’s tone has the power to make me sob.
“Yeah,” I breathe, eager to grasp onto this reality with both arms while it embraces me. “It’s a very good thing.”
After Thanksgiving is in the rear view, I’m able to focus on the work straight ahead. The turnout for our December sale might be the largest to date. That’s really saying something since most don’t want another animal to feed in winter.
The Wyoming rancher I’m dealing with smooths his bushy mustache, flipping through the thick catalog. “You’re tellin’ me every single one of these horses are solid?”
“All two hundred,” I assure the man. “Quality stock is tough to find at a decent price, but Benson Farmstead delivers.”
“Your reputation piqued my interest. Had to see it with my own eyes.” Which means more than he knows. He drove twelve-plus hours just for this event.
“Appreciate you making the trip.”
“Lookin’ forward to you proving it was worth it.”