Page 120 of Touch the Sky
“What?” I bark. “Didn’t someone already check there?”
“She was hiding,” Natalie answers. “She wedged herself behind some hay bales. I didn’t see her. I’m so sorry. Jacinthe just had a hunch to check there again.”
She looks anguished about missing Shel’s hiding place, but I don’t stick around to assure her everything is fine.
Nothing will be fine until I see my kid.
I brush past the three of them and thunder up the stairs. Once I get to the loft, it takes my eyes a couple seconds to adjust before I spot the dim glow of a flashlight in one of the far corners.
The winter hay order arrived a few days ago, and the loft is now packed so full there’s only room for a narrow aisle between the stacks of bales.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I forgive Natalie for not spotting Shel; it’d be hard to find a horse trying to hide up here, never mind a tiny child.
I sprint towards the flashlight’s beam, and there she is: settled on a hay bale with Jacinthe’s arm around her. Her face is a mess of snot, tears, and the smudged remains of the moth makeup she worked so hard on. One of her antennae is missing, and the other is nothing but a crushed lump of wonky pipe cleaners now, but she’s fine. She’s safe.
She’s here.
I breathe for what feels like the first time in an hour.
“Baby!” I shout, flinging myself down onto the hay bale and folding her into my arms. “Oh, my baby.”
I breathe in the scent of the strawberry kids’ shampoo she’s been using since she was five.
“My baby,” I sigh. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
It takes me another moment to realize she’s still clinging to Jacinthe. She’s turned her head away from me to bury her face in Jacinthe’s jacket.
I sit up a little straighter but don’t let go of Shel.
“She was up here the whole time?” I ask Jacinthe.
She nods. “I think so. I know Natalie checked before, but I stopped and thought about where I would go when I was a kid, and I just knew. I knew she had to be here.”
A rush of gratitude sweeps through me, but it’s tinged with the same guilt I felt the first time I found Shel up here with Jacinthe.
Once again, she’s done something for my daughter that I couldn’t.
I push the thought down. I’ll process that later. Right now, I need to help Shel in any way I can.
I rub one of my hands in a circle on her back. My chest twinges when I see the beautiful moth wings she worked so hard to paint have a rip in them.
She must really have wedged herself into a tight spot up here.
“Shel, honey, will you let me look at you?” I murmur.
Her muffled reply pierces straight through my heart.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
My hand trembles, but I keep up the soothing circles on her back.
“Shel, what’s going on? Just tell me what’s wrong, honey,” I plead. “I want to help.”
She shakes her head, her voice taking on a hard edge as she turns enough to glare at me over her shoulder.
“Idon’twant to talk to you.”
I’m too stunned to speak. Even during her worst tantrums as a toddler, she never looked at me like that.
