16
Sydney let Josh take Bay home, and they were obviously taking the long way, because she and Henry made it back to the farmhouse before them. Henry had left the porch light on and they walked to the door in the cool darkness, their arms heavy with bags containing leftovers.
When they entered, they only made it as far as the couch before they collapsed, setting the bags on the floor beside them.
“We should put this food away,” Sydney said.
“I’m so full I may never eat again,” Henry groaned.
“You’re going to have to. I can’t eat all these leftovers alone.” She grinned at him. “We could work off some of this tonight.”
Neither of them moved. “You first,” Henry said.
“Come here,” she said, lifting a hand weakly.
“No, you come here.”
“I’m too full. This may take a while. Who needs sleep?”
Henry laughed. “That reminds me of something my granddad once told me. He said that when my father was a baby, he kept my granddad and grandmother up all night so many times that my granddad would fall asleep in the fields in the mornings. He said the cows would roll him into the barn and milk themselves.”
Sydney gave him a skeptical look. “The cows rolled him into the barn?”
“That’s what he said. He’d wake up in the barn to find them milked and out in the fields again, as happy as, well, cows.”
Sydney laughed, then snorted, which made Henry laugh, which made her laugh harder. She doubled over and slid off the couch to the floor. Henry went down with her.
They sprawled out side by side on their backs and their laughter subsided. Sydney was lying on something hard, so she reached under her and realized she still had the small night-light Fred had given her in her coat pocket.
She turned it on, and a circle of blue stars reflected on the ceiling.
“Where did you get that?” Henry asked, scooting his head closer to hers as they stared at the ceiling.
“Fred gave it to me.”
“Why?” Henry asked.
“I have no idea,” she said, the moment the doorbell rang. She sat up. “Did you lock the door? Bay must have forgotten her key.”
“Maybe it’s late trick-or-treaters,” Henry said.
“I don’t have any candy. Wait, maybe I have some gum.”
“Gum will get the house egged for sure.” Henry stood and held out his hand to help Sydney stand. “I’ll take these to the kitchen,” he said, picking up the bags as Sydney went to the door and opened it, smiling as she put the night-light back in her pocket.
But it wasn’t Bay, or a trick-or-treater. At least, not the obvious kind.
Violet Turnbull was standing there in the glow of the porch light. Baby Charlie was asleep on her hip.
“Can I come in?” Violet asked. Despite the cold, she was wearing cut-off shorts with cowboy boots. The sweater she’d put on seemed like an afterthought. Charlie, at least, was wearing a flannel onesie.
Speechless, Sydney stepped back and let Violet enter.
“I’m sorry about breaking into the salon,” Violet said. She looked around the living room, swaying back and forth jerkily, like nerves rather than trying to soothe Charlie. “Although, technically, it wasn’t really breaking in, because I had a key.”
“Are you here to return the money?” Sydney asked levelly, putting her hands in her coat pockets to hide how clenched they were.
“I already spent it. I told you, I needed the money to buy the Toyota.”
“Then are you here to return the key?”
“I lost the key. You changed the lock, anyway,” Violet said, not meeting her eyes.
That raised warning flags she’d always ignored before when it came to Violet. “And how do you know that? Did you go back and try again?”
Violet disregarded the question, because they both knew the answer. “I’m leaving tonight. I needed some money to travel with.”
Sydney sighed. “I’ll give you what I have on me. It’s not much.”
“I’m not here for money,” Violet said as Sydney turned to get her purse. “The heater doesn’t work in the Toyota, and Charlie and I were both cold.”
Sydney hesitated. Was she really going to turn them away? Of course not. “You can stay here for the night. We’ll figure something out.”
“You’re not listening to me!” Violet said, raising her voice. Sydney’s eyes went immediately to Charlie, who frowned in his sleep. “It doesn’t matter that the heater doesn’t work. I’m going south, where it’s warm. Charlie doesn’t have a winter coat, but I figured he didn’t need one if we went somewhere warm. But he’s growing out of his clothes, and I realized I’d have to buy more when we got there anyway. And I don’t have the money.”
“But you just said you’re not here for money.”
Violet’s face twisted in anger. No, not anger. Anguish. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Just take him,” she said, handing over the sleeping baby.
“What?” Sydney’s hands shot out of her coat pockets, dropping Fred’s night-light to the floor as she took Charlie. Violet gave her no choice. It was either take him or let him fall.
Violet set the plastic tote bag she was carrying on the floor. “Some of his favorite toys are in there. The clothes that still fit him are there, too. And his birth certificate. I put some photos of me and him in there, so he doesn’t forget what I look like. And I wrote a letter.” Violet lifted the hem of her sweater and wiped her nose on it. “When I was nine, my mom left me with her friend Karen for almost a whole year when she went off with her boyfriend. I broke my arm, and Karen had a lot of trouble with DSS, because my mom, like, didn’t leave any kind of instructions about custody and stuff. So that’s in there. I want to be happy. And I want him to be happy, too. But we can’t do it at the same time, you know? You probably think I’m the worst mother in the world.”
Sydney shook her head. Motherhood, true motherhood, was what went on when no one else could see. How could she judge her when she didn’t know the whole story?
“Leave a night-light on for him when he sleeps, okay? He doesn’t like the dark.”
Violet kissed his head, hiccuping with tears, then hurried out the door.
Sydney turned to find Henry standing in the doorway to the kitchen behind her, looking as stunned as she was.