Read Online A Gift of Time (Tassamara) by Sarah Wynde - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Wynde
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accident.”
“It’s a big forest.”
“Yeah, but she’s a little girl. She couldn’t have gone too far.”
“And she won’t talk.” Grace’s voice was thoughtful. “Did you see if she could write? What does she do with a pen and paper?”
Natalya felt stupid.
“It was late,” she said. The excuse sounded weak. But the girl had been sleepy and hungry, had needed her scrapes bandaged, a hot shower, clean clothes—Natalya had been so focused on the priorities of the moment that she hadn’t even thought about other methods of communication. Still, given that they knew the girl could talk and wouldn’t, how likely was it she’d be willing to write?
She gulped down the rest of her coffee and stood. Grace had shoved another mug under the dripping filter. It was half-full, so she switched mugs, and took a sip from the fresh one. “Oh, sorry,” she said, realizing she was being rude. “Do you want coffee?”
“Not the way you make it,” Grace answered.
“Snob,” Natalya retorted mildly. “Lighter roast has more caffeine.”
“And less taste. Stop stalling. Do you want to try this or what?”
Natalya leaned against the sink. They should leave the questions to the psychologist Kenzi would surely see within a few hours. But asking if she’d write her name—how could that hurt?
“All right,” she said. Automatically, without even thinking about it, she tried to look into the future, to see the outcome of this choice. Not knowing felt uncomfortable, like an itch she couldn’t reach to scratch. “If she’s willing.”
Setting her coffee cup down on the counter, she crossed to the living room. “Kenzi? Will you come here, please?”
“Kenzi?” Grace asked from behind her.
Natalya shrugged, watching the door to her studio. “I needed something to call her.”
“Isn’t Bo the lost one?”
“Matter of opinion, I guess.” Natalya looked over her shoulder at her sister with a smile until a shuffle of noise drew her attention back to the front rooms. Kenzi stood in the doorway of the studio, looking at her warily.
Natalya’s smile didn’t change. She tilted her head toward the kitchen to let Kenzi know she wanted her to join them, then turned and went back to the kitchen table. Kenzi would either come or not. The choice was up to her. But it was only a few seconds before the little girl appeared at the door.
“Cool,” Grace said cheerfully. She hopped up and rummaged in the junk drawer by Natalya’s phone, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. Crossing to the little girl, she set the pad down on the countertop next to her. “Here,” she said, handing her the pen. “Can you write your name for us?”
Kenzi didn’t refuse to take the pen and she wasn’t running, but she didn’t look eager to cooperate, either. Her eyes flickered from one of them to the other as if she were trapped.
“Hmm.” Grace crossed her arms, looking down on Kenzi speculatively.
“Gently, Grace,” Natalya cautioned her sister softly. They had no idea what sort of trauma this child had experienced. She didn’t want to push.
“How about we negotiate?” Grace said to Kenzi.
A flicker of doubt creased Kenzi’s forehead.
“A deal,” Grace said. “We’ll make a deal.”
Kenzi licked her lips. Natalya’s curved up in reluctant appreciation. Grace was CEO of the family company. Trust her to think of problems in terms of business.
“Which do you like better, clothes or toys?” Grace asked.
Kenzi blinked at her, her uncertainty obvious.
“Hang on.” Grace stepped past Kenzi and disappeared into the living room. Kenzi glanced at Natalya and Natalya shrugged as Grace returned, smart phone already in hand, head down. “No, not that one,” Grace muttered. “No, no, ick, no. Ah… okay, that’ll do.” She turned the phone around and showed Kenzi the screen. “What do you think?”
Kenzi’s eyes widened. She looked up at Grace.
“You write your name on this piece of paper,” Grace said,
“It’s a big forest.”
“Yeah, but she’s a little girl. She couldn’t have gone too far.”
“And she won’t talk.” Grace’s voice was thoughtful. “Did you see if she could write? What does she do with a pen and paper?”
Natalya felt stupid.
“It was late,” she said. The excuse sounded weak. But the girl had been sleepy and hungry, had needed her scrapes bandaged, a hot shower, clean clothes—Natalya had been so focused on the priorities of the moment that she hadn’t even thought about other methods of communication. Still, given that they knew the girl could talk and wouldn’t, how likely was it she’d be willing to write?
She gulped down the rest of her coffee and stood. Grace had shoved another mug under the dripping filter. It was half-full, so she switched mugs, and took a sip from the fresh one. “Oh, sorry,” she said, realizing she was being rude. “Do you want coffee?”
“Not the way you make it,” Grace answered.
“Snob,” Natalya retorted mildly. “Lighter roast has more caffeine.”
“And less taste. Stop stalling. Do you want to try this or what?”
Natalya leaned against the sink. They should leave the questions to the psychologist Kenzi would surely see within a few hours. But asking if she’d write her name—how could that hurt?
“All right,” she said. Automatically, without even thinking about it, she tried to look into the future, to see the outcome of this choice. Not knowing felt uncomfortable, like an itch she couldn’t reach to scratch. “If she’s willing.”
Setting her coffee cup down on the counter, she crossed to the living room. “Kenzi? Will you come here, please?”
“Kenzi?” Grace asked from behind her.
Natalya shrugged, watching the door to her studio. “I needed something to call her.”
“Isn’t Bo the lost one?”
“Matter of opinion, I guess.” Natalya looked over her shoulder at her sister with a smile until a shuffle of noise drew her attention back to the front rooms. Kenzi stood in the doorway of the studio, looking at her warily.
Natalya’s smile didn’t change. She tilted her head toward the kitchen to let Kenzi know she wanted her to join them, then turned and went back to the kitchen table. Kenzi would either come or not. The choice was up to her. But it was only a few seconds before the little girl appeared at the door.
“Cool,” Grace said cheerfully. She hopped up and rummaged in the junk drawer by Natalya’s phone, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. Crossing to the little girl, she set the pad down on the countertop next to her. “Here,” she said, handing her the pen. “Can you write your name for us?”
Kenzi didn’t refuse to take the pen and she wasn’t running, but she didn’t look eager to cooperate, either. Her eyes flickered from one of them to the other as if she were trapped.
“Hmm.” Grace crossed her arms, looking down on Kenzi speculatively.
“Gently, Grace,” Natalya cautioned her sister softly. They had no idea what sort of trauma this child had experienced. She didn’t want to push.
“How about we negotiate?” Grace said to Kenzi.
A flicker of doubt creased Kenzi’s forehead.
“A deal,” Grace said. “We’ll make a deal.”
Kenzi licked her lips. Natalya’s curved up in reluctant appreciation. Grace was CEO of the family company. Trust her to think of problems in terms of business.
“Which do you like better, clothes or toys?” Grace asked.
Kenzi blinked at her, her uncertainty obvious.
“Hang on.” Grace stepped past Kenzi and disappeared into the living room. Kenzi glanced at Natalya and Natalya shrugged as Grace returned, smart phone already in hand, head down. “No, not that one,” Grace muttered. “No, no, ick, no. Ah… okay, that’ll do.” She turned the phone around and showed Kenzi the screen. “What do you think?”
Kenzi’s eyes widened. She looked up at Grace.
“You write your name on this piece of paper,” Grace said,
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