Page 19 of Give Me Strength

“Hannah wasn’t a pushover or a doormat,” she continues. “And once he realized he couldn’t control her the way he wanted, he turned to Lynn. He didn’t want Lynn doing ballet, as he didn’t consider it a ‘real sport.’” She puts air quotes around the words. “He wanted her to play hockey, a sport she hates, just to appease his inflated ego. Even though he knew he would never be around to watch her play. I doubt he ever saw her dance. I know for a fact that he’s never been to any of her competitions. The only reason he didn’t pull her out of ballet after Hannah died is because the Blackwells are footing the bill for it. That, and I told him that if he so much as interfered with Lynn’s dreams, I would personally relieve him of the family jewels.”

The mental image that forms has me shifting in my seat. “Point taken.”

She levels me with a stern gaze. “Same goes for you, Gilbert. As much as I’d like to believe you really are the stand-up guy Rachel said you are, interfere with Lynn’s dreams and I won’t do you the kindness of killing you.”

Jesus Christ, this woman. “Bonnie, if you know the truth about Rachel and me, then you’d know I am the last person to get in the way of anyone’s dreams.”

She relaxes, albeit slightly. “Truth is, I’m not sorry Everett’s dead. I’m just sorry Lynn’s grieving the loss of a man who never deserved a daughter like her. And that her whole life is being disrupted because the jackass ignored protocol and got himself killed?—”

Will’s arrival brings the conversation to an abrupt halt. Apart from being slightly disheveled, he’s also clutching his signature leather briefcase that looks somewhat out of place in the relaxed environment of the café.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Bonnie teases, tapping the seat next to her.

As he does, the blush that creeps down his neck is adorable. “Sorry. I got held up at the office. I take it you two have come to an agreement?”

“Yes, Gilbert is staying, and Lynn is moving in with him. We didn’t quite get to the part where we break the news to her.”

Will sets his briefcase on the table and pulls out a file. “You know, I could’ve sworn I heard you say the bastard got himself killed.”

She shrugs. “I did say that, but I called him a jackass. Why? You going to lecture me on speaking ill of the dead?”

“Why bother? It’d be lost on you,” he says as he hands me the folder. “Let’s wrap this up quickly, shall we? I’d rather not be here when Ashlynn rips you two a new one for this little ambush.”

For the next thirty minutes, we discuss the legal details of how Ashlynn’s guardianship would work at length, ensuring that every aspect is covered. It is atypical and more than just overseeing her finances until she turns twenty-two. Most of it is tied to the terms of the settlement and has no bearing on her being an adult or a minor.

As a psychiatrist, I understand the importance of not just meeting legal obligations but also addressing emotional needs. Ashlynn’s grief and feelings of loss must be factored into our approach. Bonnie and I agree that we want her to feel secure and loved, and that this arrangement is for her benefit, not to restrict her freedom.

As we wrap up our conversation, I glance out the window and see Ashlynn and three girls emerging from the dance studio across the street. They part ways, and she heads for the town car where Russ is waiting. She looks exhausted, her usual grace replaced by weariness. Her shoulders are slumped, her steps heavy, and her tote bag sways against her side.

When was the last time she got a decent night’s sleep?

Even so, she’s still stunning, breathtakingly so. The sight tugs at my heart, and I feel a pang of something I shouldn’t. Attraction and desire — both inappropriate given the circumstances, and who she is. I push the thoughts away, but they stubbornly linger.

“Time to face the music,” Will speaks up, nodding towards the window.

Bonnie turns to see her niece, concern evident in her eyes. “She hasn’t been sleeping much. She’s also been avoiding me since the reading of the will, even though I’ve been staying at the house.”

Will begins gathering the papers on the table. “I don’t suppose Bonnie told you that Ashlynn comes here three times a week.”

“No, she left out that part.”

I watch as Russ takes Ashlynn’s tote bag from her. Something he says makes her face light up, and she lunges into his arms, taking him by surprise. She steps away and heads in the direction of the café, moving with the grace of a seasoned dancer and the confidence of someone who’s spent a lifetime on stage.

To no one’s surprise, Ashlynn spots us within seconds of entering the café. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and confusion, clearly unsure what to expect. A beat passes before she makes a beeline for us with purposeful strides.

Will stands, briefcase in hand. “And that’s my cue to flee. Good luck.”

If that wasn’t enough, Will whispers something to Ashlynn on his way out. By the time she reaches us, a look of wariness is stamped on her face.

“Lynn,” Bonnie begins softly, “it’s not what you think.”

“No?” Ashlynn crosses her arms, her expression guarded. “You’re not checking up on me, making sure I wasn’t dancing?”

Bonnie’s gaze falls to Ashlynn’s feet. “I know you weren’t.”

“What’s this about then?”

“Paperwork.” She glances in the direction of the main entrance, specifically at Will as he exits the room. “What do you think Will was doing here?”

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