Page 26 of All Your Life

“I don’t know who my father is, or my mother for that matter.”

I pull into the parking lot and cut the engine, legitimately surprised. “Whatnow?”

She pulls on the hem of her dress in an effort to smooth it down, obvious in her discomfort. “Yeah, I just found out I’m adopted.”

“Shit. Your parents just told you now?”

“They didn’t tell me. I found out on my own.”

“And what did they say when you asked them about it?”

“I haven’t...asked them about it.”

I can’t help but shake my head. “Seriously? Why not?”

“I don’t know. I’ve stopped and started a few times but the words just get trapped in my throat. I know that sounds stupid—”

“No, it doesn’t. Everyone acts like they’d know what to say, how to handle every situation the right way, but that’s bullshit. You can only do that from the cheap seats as a spectator. When it’s you, when it’syourlife, then it’s not so cut and dry. I have about ten different conversations I’ve rehearsed in my head, but I’m tongue-tied and too chickenshit to say anything when I’m finally face to face with them.”

“Them?”

“My stepfather, my mother, my fatherifwe ever cross paths again.” I look to her and smile. “I’ve got quite a list.”

“You don’t give the impression of being afraid of anyone.”

“I didn’t say I was afraid of them, just that I can’t seem to speak my mind when it matters most.”

“Got it.”

I look down at my phone and she mistakes it for impatience. “Seriously, you can leave me here.”

“So you’ve told me...several times.” I shrug, feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time. “I’ve got nowhere to be. When will the coast be clear at your house?”

“Twelve-thirty? Maybe one just to be safe?”

I reach behind me to the backseat and grab her a sweatshirt. “Here, you look cold.”

“Thanks,” she says as she pulls it over her head. It’s swimming on her, which for some reason makes her look ridiculously cute. “Wanna sneak in and check on Shadow with me? I know where your uncle hides the spare key.”

“Lead the way.”

“No,” she hisses just as I’m about to flip on the lights. “Leave that.”

Not only did she know where my uncle keeps a key hidden, but she also knows where a spare flashlight is stashed.

“Here,” she whispers as it clicks on and casts a glow across the barn. “This is enough light.”

It’s barely enough to see a hand in front of your face at first, but within a minute or two my eyes adjust. “Do you creep in here late at night on a regular basis?”

“No,” she says. “I’m just observant,” she flashes me a smile, “and crafty. I saw your uncle give that key to one of the stable hands a few weeks ago, and he just used that flashlight the other day to show me something on Shadow’s left rear hoof.”

“Crafty, huh?”

Turning to nuzzle her horse, she murmurs, “Isn’t that right? Yes Shadow, yes it is.”

“You two have a very close bond.” She thinks I’m teasing when I’m not. “I mean it. Your horse connects with you. It’s not like that with most of the other owners.” Before thinking it through I speak the memory out loud. “There was this one day you looked really sad, and Shadow came to you and nudged you before laying his head in your lap. Like, he instinctively knew you were down in the dumps and was looking to comfort you.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re saying that in between bouts of scowling at me you took note of my emotional state?”

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