Page 78 of The Dating Charade

She closed her eyes, letting herself embrace every selfish thought one moment more. When she opened them again, dimly, as through a heavy rain, she tried to see things from the other side. He was their uncle. And Rachel was dead on: Cassie would fight tooth and nail to get her nephews and nieces back if the state tried to give them to a stranger.

She’d also heard the fact tagged on in Rachel’s final plea—that the kids would be getting an uncle and an aunt. A father and a mother figure. Two people to split their duties and twice the amount of love to go around. Spartanburg was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive. If she played her cards right and didn’t resist, maybe she could get on good enough terms to visit sometimes . . .

Still, she felt sick.

Cassie smoothed down Kennedy’s dress. Kissed her temple. She didn’t trust her voice as she spoke. “I suppose we ought to pack.”

A scream raged behind her.

Cassie turned, seeing tears filling Star’s eyes. “You can’t do this!” Her voice was hysterical. “You can’t just give us up, Miss C!”

Deidre started crying behind her, and Cassie’s mother bent to pick her up.

The anger, the horror, on Star’s face was unquenchable as she jerked her head around the group like they were complete strangers. Worse, like they were exactly what they were: bystanders watching as something she didn’t understand happened to her—and not lifting a finger to defend.

Star bounded down the stairs, tripping on the bottom step. She pushed off Cassie when she reached out to help. “I hate you! I hate all of you!” came her hoarse voice, choking as tears streamed down her cheeks. The black, mascara-mixed drops splattered on her fresh red sweater. Cassie had let her borrow that mascara only hours ago.

Cassie pushed Kennedy into Bree’s arms and ran.

The pastureland was frozen, slick to the touch. A cold wind ripped through Cassie’s soft pink, billowed sleeves as she followed. Smoke curled from the neighbor’s chimney as Star ran through their front yard, through the back of the carport.

“Star!” Cassie shouted, gravel driving into her bare feet. “Star! Stop!”

But Star climbed up the pasture gate and jumped over, running as though her life depended on it. The wind propelled her down the cow pasture like a kite about to take flight.

Cassie ran around the chicken gate, stumbling over stray corn. She pressed harder into her muscles. Ran faster.

The gap between them lessened with each step, with each stride Cassie took down the hill.

“Star! Please stop!” Cassie yelled again, close enough now to hear the breaths piping through the girl’s lungs, to see white clouds forming at her lips.

Star’s barefoot feet danced around a group of cows at the creek, her jeans splashing between rocks.

If Cassie stopped, if she slowed down, she knew what that would mean to Star.

The gate bordering the neighbor’s land came into view, with nothing but the mass of shadowy, leafless woods beyond. Cassie watched as Star tripped and tumbled into the grass. She heaved herself up a foot, paused, then slumped back down.

Breathless, Cassie knelt beside her.

Wrapped her arms around her.

Above their heavy breathing the wind whistled through the grass, the creek bubbling as the cows lifted their heads on occasion then lowered for another drink. Smoke still curled from the neighbor’s chimney, though the ranch itself, and the road, was some distance away. Frozen blades of grass were melting on Cassie’s jeans, making the cold shiver down her spine. One toe bled from a sharp rock encountered sometime before.

Still, Cassie held on. And eventually she felt Star’s breaths slow.

Then, suddenly, Star’s breaths turned into sobs.

“Oh, Star.” Cassie didn’t let go, didn’t move while Star released into the wind what sounded like the cry of a lifetime of pain. She clung tightly as the dampness soaked through her jeans, through her shirt, the cold settling somewhere far deeper, far further, than any physical thing could reach.

There were no words.

* * *

Three hours later, Cassie’s heart poured all over the road as she stood, again barefoot, in the driveway. Deidre looked out the window as Rachel’s car began to move. She held onto her doll with one hand and waved.

Cassie lifted her own hand. Waved back.

The living room was empty as her numb feet walked onto the tinsel-laden rug. Her mother and Bree stood beside the tree, waiting. Gifts and family members had swiftly gathered into their vehicles, giving space while the few who remained set about packing. The dining room table, once so full, lay empty, the mahogany glossed over with fresh polish while the fridge was stuffed with hastily Saran-wrapped plates. Everything had been put back in order. No trace left of the children.