Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’m visiting my daughter, as is my right,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly.
“Yes, you are visiting your daughter. But only within the confines of this house. Why do you have her suitcase?”
“Because I thought she could stay at my hotel with me so we can have private mommy-daughter time.”
Another glance at Bowie Jane and her eyes lock with mine. She doesn’t say anything but gives the smallest shake of her head. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I take it to say she doesn’t want to leave. Not that I would take her wishes into consideration in this instance because no way in hell I’m letting her leave with Sandra.
“Not going to happen. You’re more than welcome to continue your visit here but Bowie Jane isn’t leaving this house with you.”
Sandra starts down the staircase, pulling on Bowie Jane, who willingly follows but looks miserable at the same time. She comes barreling at me and I step backward to give her room to get off the staircase, but the minute her foot touches the foyer floor, I reach forward and jerk the suitcase from her hand. She’s not expecting that and it pulls free easily. Not about to give up my position between Sandra and the door, I set the bag down on its wheels and give it a slight shove so it rolls off to the side.
“Get out of my way,” Sandra snarls, pulling Bowie Jane into her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’m taking Bowie Jane so we can spend some private time together.”
More like taking her to the airport to heading back to Singapore, but I don’t say my worst fear out loud. I don’t want to scare Bowie Jane.
I notice that Sandra’s fingers are pressed into her daughter’s shoulder, and I can tell it hurts by the expression on Bowie Jane’s face. “You need to ease up on the way you’re holding her.” I nod at her tightened grip.
That seems to jolt Sandra out of her fight mode as she releases the little girl, turning to look down at her with concern. Bowie Jane scrambles backward up the staircase, putting three steps between herself and her mother.
“Oh, honey… I’m so sorry,” Sandra coos apologetically, holding out her arms. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Come here and give me a hug.”
Bowie Jane just stares at her mom, indecision on her face. Sandra’s tone is sincere… I believe she’s truly regretful for hurting her daughter, and I know more than anything, Bowie Jane wants to reconnect with her.
But this is a precarious situation, and I can’t worry about treading carefully for my young charge’s feelings.
“Bowie Jane,” I say firmly but with an upward lilt so that I sound positive and reassuring. Her hazel eyes, just like Foster’s, land on me. “I want you to go to your bedroom right now. I need to talk to your mom privately.”
“Bowie Jane,” Sandra exclaims, a slight hysterical lift to her voice. “You come to me.”
The poor kid is clearly torn, her gaze moving between me and her mother.
“I’m your mom,” Sandra whines. “If you love me, you need to come with me.”
I can’t compete with a child’s love for their parent, but I can remind Bowie Jane of her dad’s love. “Your dad would not want you to go. He would want you to go up to your room so I can handle this.”
That makes the needed connection and Bowie Jane nods, turning on the staircase to go back up.
“Bowie Jane,” Sandra screeches.
She doesn’t look back but flinches at her mother’s bitter plea. I silently watch as she hits the top of the landing, disappears into her room and shuts the door.
Sandra seems shell-shocked but quickly recovers and starts for the stairs. I leap forward, grabbing her wrist to halt her. “Oh no you don’t.” I dig the treads of my Adidas into the wood flooring and pull on her hard toward the door. “Time for you to leave this house.”
I’m stunned that Sandra capitulates, allowing me to move her one, two… three steps. I’m reaching for the doorknob when, from the corner of my eye, I see a blur of movement. My vision cuts back just in time to see a close-up view of Sandra’s fist round-housing my way. It connects with my left cheekbone and stars burst in my eyes.
Tearing free of my hold, Sandra attacks by slamming both palms into my chest so hard I windmill backward, trying to stay upright, but gravity is stronger and I fall hard on my butt. Pain shoots up my spine, but I ignore it as Sandra turns to run up the stairs.
I’m momentarily motionless, so surprised by this turn of events. As she makes it up two steps, all I can think is, How is she doing this while wearing heels?