Page 78 of Townshipped
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I could listen to him all day.
Ty’s eyes match his sister’s—brown like a Hershey bar—though her hair is darker brown and his is a mottled mix of blond and brown curls.
My heart squeezes just being near the two of them. My urge to comfort and care for them takes me by surprise. Neither of them seems to be completely aware of the magnitude of this day and the fact that their mom is gone.
After a mid-afternoon buffet at Aiden’s aunt and uncle’s, we wrangle the kids and get them into the truck. Everyone gives hugs and promises to visit soon. Deb and Mark stand waving to us from the sidewalk.
Aiden asks the three of us, “Are we ready to head home?”
I nod.
Home. If only I could call the farm home.
27
AIDEN
Driving onto my property with Em asleep in the passenger seat and the kids dozing in the back feels oddly complete. I park the truck and no one stirs at first, so I indulge myself in a study of Em as her chest rises and falls with each sleeping breath. She’s got my jacket wadded at the window as a makeshift pillow. Her lashes fan across her porcelain cheeks. Her red hair spills down her shoulders in an end-of-the-day mess that’s perfectly imperfect.
I reach over and place my hand on her forearm. Her eyes flicker open.
“Mmmm,” she says as she looks around. “We’re home already.”
“Yep,” I say with a contented smile.
Home. She called the farm her home.
“Let’s get the kids inside and then I’ll check the goats and Lily. We can get Granger from the Whites in the morning.”
We wake the kids, Ty climbs right into my arms, seeming willing to go with me as if we’ve always been together. He snuggles close, resting his head on my shoulder as I make my way toward the front porch.
Paisley will be more of a hard sell. She announces that she can get out of the truck on her own.
Em stands nearby and says, “Of course you can.”
I’m going to have to earn Paisley’s trust—and I will. I’ll wait and I’ll work for it.
We trudge in the house and upstairs together—like a family. Ty reluctantly releases his grip on me and finds his own feet. I show the kids where their toothbrushes and pajamas are. Em stays with Paisley.
Their muffled conversation carries through the bedroom door. Em asks Paisley if she needs privacy and Paisley tells Em she can stay but needs to close her eyes while Paisley changes. They emerge with Paisley in the new lavender pajamas Mom got for her, and head into the hall bath together.
I probably should put space between Em and the kids. The last thing these two need is to become attached to one more adult who leaves them, but today, after all they’ve been through, Em’s the one Paisley is letting near, so I’m not going to stop them from connecting.
After both kids have brushed their teeth, Ty says, “I usually sweep in Pay Pay’s bed. When Mama doesn’t come home, Pay Pay keeps me safe.”
Em looks over at me. I’m sure my face is a mirror of hers.
I think back to the book I’ve been reading about attachment disorders and childhood trauma. My mind rotates between the need to set a reliable pattern at bedtime for the sake of consistency, and the idea that Ty needs his sister in a scary and new situation. I’m debating which need trumps the other.
Before I can make the call, Paisley speaks up, “Ty, you’re a big boy. You can sleep right there.” She points to his bedroom. “Come here.”
She takes him by the hand and walks him into her bedroom while Em and I stand in the hall watching.
“This is my bed. It’s right here. See?”
Ty nods.
“You are right next door. If you need me. Come in.”
