He fits her.
Reese’s words came back again. Cole sighed and gave Wendy another little push. Goddammit, he was getting tired of Reese being right, but Isaiah did seem to fit Addy, filling those holes that Cole, as her cousin, couldn’t fill, understanding her in ways that he hadn’t been able to. Addy just might have known what she was doing when she’d started feeding Isaiah.
Cole gave Wendy a third push. This time she didn’t squeal, but he felt the excitement start to replace the dread in her energy. She was a bold thing under all that caution. He pushed her again and again, keeping his promise, not sending her any higher, just a nice gentle rhythm that she was comfortable with, building her trust. It saddened him that she needed him to build that trust, but he was used to it; this was a hard country. Hard on humans, hard on Reapers, and maybe, he decided, especially hard on humans living with Reapers.
“Do you like it here, Wendy?”
She nodded. “It’s much better than moving all the time.”
“Why is that?”
She cast him a quick look over her shoulder, her knuckles still white on the rope. He had an impression of resignation. “I couldn’t have a swing if we kept moving.”
“Fair enough. What else would you like to have?”
“A puppy.” She was surrounded by wolves, and she wanted a puppy?
“What else?”
She kicked her feet, making the hem of her dress flutter. “A pretty new dress like Milly Sandoval had.”
“Who is Milly Sandoval?”
He could feel the walls close up around her. Whoever Milly was, she’d hurt Wendy. Cole hated that. Hated the thought that anyone would dim that bright, glowing spirit.
“A girl in town.”
“Which town?”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember, but she had a pretty yellow dress. She looked like sunshine.”
“Did you like Milly?”
There was a silence while he pushed her two more times. Finally she muttered, “She laughed at me.”
Cole had the overwhelming inclination to dislike Milly Sandoval. “She did, huh?”
Wendy nodded. He could guess why. Wendy’s clothes were serviceable but screamed poverty.
“Must be she was jealous of how pretty you are. So pretty you didn’t even need a yellow dress to make you shine.”
She turned. “That’s what Momma said.”
“Your momma is a smart woman.”
“Not about everything.”
And her daughter was a smart girl. Too smart to be corralled into a blanket assertion that might not work in her favor down the road.
Cole hid his grin. “But she was right about this.”
Wendy’s “maybe” was sullen. He knew right then he was going to find the prettiest material he could from somewhere and Wendy was going to have a dress so beautiful it would put all the other girls’ dresses to shame.
“I guess we’ll have to see about a shopping trip.”
Wendy looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Mama needs a new dress, too.”
Yes, she did. This time he didn’t hide his smile. “We’ll have to see about that, then, too.”
Another look over her shoulder, less hesitant this time, more secure. “She likes blue.”
“I’ll bet her eyes look pretty when she wears blue.”
Wendy nodded. “They look just like the best chocolate.”
“Chocolate is my favorite thing.”
Wendy licked her lips. “Mine, too.”
“Duly noted.” He pushed her higher. “Next time we go to town, we’re going to have to find some chocolate and some dress material, yellow and blue.”
Wendy shook her head so hard her braids didn’t know which way to fly. Up and down with the swing or side to side with her head. “I don’t want yellow.”
“No? I thought we were going to outdo that town girl?”
“I want red.”
A bright, cheery color, scandalous on an adult and not too proper for a child. Miranda was probably going to fuss at him. “Then red it will be.”
“Mom said red is a scandalous color.”
Ah, so the subject had already been addressed. “On anyone else but you, maybe. You’ll look as pretty as a strawberry in a patch.”
She nodded, satisfied. “I think so, too.”
This time when he pushed, she kicked her feet.
“You want to go a little higher?”
“Yes.”
“A lot or a little?”
“A little.” That caution still lurked in her. He liked it. Caution wasn’t a bad thing in a girl.
This time when she got to the peak, she giggled. A happy sound he heard from her too seldom.
“Now that was pretty. Sounded like music on the wind.”
“What?”
“Your laughter. I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh like that before.”
She frowned at him. “I laugh all the time.”
Not like that. Like nothing could touch her. “I’ll have to pay more attention.”
She enjoyed the swing for a while. Not chattering, just riding the curve. If Cole hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed the tightening of her energy. But he was. She was building to something.
“Are you going to stay with my mommy?”
He looked at her. That was out of the bushes. “I’m planning on it.”
They hadn’t heard back from the council yet, but he wasn’t expecting trouble in that department. Not with the union consummated.
“Jenny says it’s not your decision.”
Jenny was Clark’s stepdaughter, he remembered. “Jenny doesn’t know everything.”
“Whose decision is it?” Wendy asked. “Clark’s?”
“Clark doesn’t have a say in anything you do anymore.” That needed to be clear.
“That’s what Mama said.”
“But you didn’t believe her?”
She shook her head. “He’s a big man and mean.”
“I’m meaner.”
“It doesn’t make any difference how mean you are if you’re not going to stay.”
“I’m not planning on leaving.”
“Then why isn’t Mommy smiling?”
He didn’t have an answer for that he could share. “Life is sometimes complicated.”
This time it was a glare she threw over her shoulder. “You like her.”
“Yes, I do.”
“She likes you.”
“Yes, she does.”
“It’s simple, then.”
It really was from a child’s perspective.
“Your mom and I are different.”
“Because you’re like me?”
“Like you?”
“Not Reaper.”
She was awfully young to grasp that difference.
He gave the swing a maintenance push. “Does it bother you not to be Reaper?”
She nodded and swung her feet. He took his cue and pushed her a little bit higher.
“Why?”
“Because I’m weak and it bothers everyone.”
She’d picked up on that well enough. He wondered if Miranda knew.
“Do you know why it bothers them?” she asked.
He wasn’t sure how to reply at first. It seemed trite to say she was a woman and didn’t need to worry about being strong, but people, whether Reaper or human, could be like chickens picking at the color red when someone different sat in their midst. And that had to eat at a child as perceptive and sensitive as Wendy.
“People tend to worry at things that are different. Doesn’t mean that thing’s bad, it just means it’s different.”
“So they’re worried about me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“You know if I’m not around and you need him, Isaiah always has your back.”
She nodded, but she didn’t look soothed. He gave her another push, sending her a bit higher.
“You don’t seem comforted.”
“He’s not always here.”
The way she said that gave him pause. “And when he’s not here?”
She shrugged but wouldn’t say. He pressed harder. “How is it different when Isaiah isn’t here?”
“Everyone changes.”
He bet they did.
“They talk and they fight.”
He imagined so. The Reapers were new to each other. Their society was new. It only made sense they’d jockey for power. “Then you need to tell him about it when he gets home.”
She shook her head. There was only one reason he could think of why she wouldn’t tell something to Isaiah.
“Are you worried about getting hurt if you say something?”
“No.”
“Are you worried about your mama getting hurt?”
There was no misinterpreting the kind of stillness that took Wendy over then. He stopped the swing. She jerked her head around as it jostled to a stop. He wanted to hug her, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Sometimes she seemed so fragile, this little girl who had withstood so much. She looked so much like her mother, he just wanted to shelter her from everything, but there was only so much he and Miranda could do. And only so much room Miranda was willing to make for him in Wendy’s life right now.
Wendy blinked, and he realized those were tears she was holding back. Fuck Miranda’s limits.
He squatted in front of her, holding the ropes of the swing so it stayed put. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t let it stop him. “I’m going to make you a promise right now, Wendy. A Cameron promise, and everyone knows a Cameron doesn’t break a promise.”
Her gaze snapped to his. Deep inside him the last brick in a wall he didn’t know he had crumbled. “For real?”
“You ask Addy if that’s not for real.”
She nodded and waited.
“I’m promising you right now that no one’s ever going to touch your mom. Or you.”
The “as long as I’m alive” he left unspoken. Wendy didn’t need contingencies. She needed something to believe in.
“Do you believe me?”
She bit her lip and didn’t answer.
With the back of his fingers he brushed her hair off her temple. “You wondering if that promise is any good?”
She nodded.
“You know your aunt Addy?”
She nodded yes.
“I made her a promise a long, long time ago that if anyone ever took her, I’d come get her, no matter what.”
She blinked. “No matter what?”
He nodded. “And that’s why I’m here now. Mister Isaiah took her.”
“But he loves her.”
“I didn’t know that, not for sure. So I’ve been following her for two months.”
Her eyes widened farther. “That’s a long time.”
“Yeah, it was snowing when I started out.”
“It’s warm now.”
“Yup.”
Another fear entered her energy, marred her expression. “Are you going to take her away?”
Cole smiled wryly. “I don’t think Isaiah would let me.”
She shook her head. “No. They’re only happy when they’re together.”
From the mouths of babes. A few weeks ago Cole would have mocked that as romantic silliness, but now, after being with Miranda, he had a whole new perspective. He didn’t know if he could be content without Miranda by his side.
“I agree. So I guess I need to leave her here, but as far as my promise goes?”
She looked at him.
“I want you to understand something. I won’t abandon you or your mama. Ever. You’re mine now, a Cameron. And that means something.”
“Like being Reaper?” she asked, hope lightening her expression.
He nodded. “Just like being Reaper, being a Cameron is a forever thing, and if something happens to me, you’ve got uncles that will come for you, too.”
Hope fell flat. “But they don’t know about me.”
“I’ll see that they do, just as soon as I can.”
“Will they like me?”
“They’ll love you.” Of that he had no doubt. Those big brown eyes, that elfin face, that spirit, they’d be wrapped around this little one’s finger in a heartbeat.
“I’d like to swing higher now.” If there had been any enthusiasm in her voice, Cole might have taken that for relief, but she said it the way of somebody who needed the distraction, like she wanted to escape.
He pushed her a little at a time, inching her higher, letting her confidence build. Little girls were delicate, fragile, and needed to be protected. Whoever Wendy’s father had been, he’d failed her miserably.
Cole pushed her higher than before just to see how far she was willing to go to hide what she didn’t want known. If he expected her to back down, he was mistaken. He could feel her fears, old and new, overlapping each other, and it tore at his heart the way it had when Addy had come home broken. She’d been full of fear and without hope, and he’d given her that worry stone to hold on to. The rituals she’d built around it had made her whole. He still had the worry stone in his pocket And in that moment he knew what he had to do.
He stopped the swing again. Wendy looked up at him with those big brown eyes that just tore at him. He took her hand. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the stone, feeling like he was giving up the past and changing the future. He put it in her hand. Her fingers naturally curled around the stone. Her thumb and forefinger found the smooth surface the same way Addy’s had. She frowned at him, not understanding. And how could he expect her to without knowing the history?
“A long time ago,” he began, “I gave this stone to another little girl who had been very scared of things that had happened and worried about things that might happen again. It kept her safe.”
“It did?”
He nodded. “It kept her safe for a very long time until she didn’t need it anymore.”
“What happened then?”
“She gave it back to me.”
And that’s precisely what Addy had done when she’d left that stone behind, Cole realized. Nobody had picked it up because it wasn’t needed anymore. Addy had saved herself and Isaiah had become her security.
“She left her stone?”
“She knew there’d come a time when someone else would need its magic.”
Wendy held it between her fingers, studying the dull gleam of sunshine off the facets contained within the amber stone. “Is it magic?” she asked, hushed awe in her tone.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t a lie. The magic was there for those with the need to believe.
“Is it magic for anyone?”
He shook his head. “It finds its owner. It finds the one who needs it. When it came back to me, I didn’t know what I needed to do with it, but I held on to it through everything. I think it’s been lonely.”
Wendy looked at him, those eyes going big again in that way that just tugged at his heart.
“No one should be lonely.”
“No.”
Then, “Do you think it will like being mine?”
He closed his fingers over hers, pressing the stone into her palm. “I think it was waiting for you.”
Her expression earnest, s
he asked, “What magic will it do for me?”
He shook his head again. “That’s between you and the stone. Only you and the stone will know that. It’s your secret, but when you’re worried or you can’t figure out what to do, just rub that stone between your fingers and think, and you’ll find your way.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
It was an easy promise to make because he was never going to leave her alone where she’d have to stumble and rely on a rock for guidance. She had a mother who loved her, Jones and Addy, and all the damn Camerons he could throw at her. But knowing that was a rational thing. And sometimes the only thing that would get a body through was a touch of magic.
Her expression went intent as she rubbed the stone.
“Can you feel it?” he asked. “Do you feel its power?”
She frowned. “It’s warm.”
“It’s saying hello.”
She licked her lips. “I think it’s talking to me.”
“Well, don’t tell me what it says. That’s just between you and it.”
She nodded. “A secret.”
“Your secret.”
She carefully put the stone in her pocket. Time flickered as he remembered Addy doing the same thing. He knew Wendy wasn’t Addy. Wendy was very different, but many of her struggles were the same, and in her own way she’d become a part of his life he couldn’t do without. If the stone gave her something to believe in, he didn’t see the harm in it, and as her pocket bulged ever so slightly, he knew Addy wouldn’t mind that the worry stone had been passed on. She would likely even approve.
Standing, he asked Wendy, “Are you ready to go extra-high now?”
Face set in a determined expression, she nodded and grabbed hold of the ropes. “I’m ready.”
“You know,” he said as he started to push her, watching her feet swing naturally as the swing went up and tuck back as it came down. “If you get real good at swinging, I bet you’ll be able to reach up and pluck the sun from the sky.”
Reaper's Vow Page 24
