How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [129]
She is in high huff, but there’s something so wild in her eyes that I stand up, reaching for her even before she clenches her fists and cries, “Is my dad dead?”
“No!” I bolt forward and put my hands on her thin arms. At least there is some flesh to them now. “No, he is not dead.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Why are you asking?”
“My mother sent me an email and it sounded like my dad was dead, because I’m almost an orphan.”
I look over my shoulder at Jonah, who nods imperceptibly. I should never have kept this from her. The weight of my betrayal is gigantic, even more so since the adults in her life have let her down over and over. Her dad, too. “There is something I need to tell you, Katie.”
She slides out of my grasp, almost visibly building armor. Merlin comes and stands at her side, like a page or a bodyguard. “What?” she asks in a harsh voice.
“There is no easy way to say this.” I gather my breath and squeeze my hands together. “He’s okay, but he tried to commit suicide.”
Even in the evening light, I can see the color drain away from her face, leaving her as pale as the moonflowers she planted against the fence. “When?”
“The night before last.”
“When did you find out?”
“Sunday night.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was just—”
“You promised you would tell me anything I needed to know.” Her shoulders are shivering faintly. “I think this counts.”
“Katie, I was trying to find a gentle way. I didn’t want it to upset you. I didn’t want you to feel so squashed—”
“He’s my father, okay? Mine. Everybody else is related to him by marriage, but he is my own blood, and I had a right to know that right away. Right away.”
“You did. I’m sorry. I made the wrong decision, but I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t want to be protected!” she screams. Her fists are at her sides, balled up tight at the end of rigid arms. “I hate you! All of you! This makes me sick. I should be with him. He wouldn’t do that if I was there!”
She bursts into tears, and I dive forward to put my arms around her. With a wild roar, she flings her arms upward to break my grip, a classic self-defense move. I stumble backward slightly, still reaching for her, and she bolts.
“Katie!” I cry, and run after her.
At the door, she halts, holding up a hand, palm out, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her face wet with tears. “Don’t. I want to be alone.”
With effort, I clasp my hands, step back. “I’m sorry.”
She flings herself inside and I stand in the gilded light, staring after her. Cool air comes up from the grass. Somewhere, someone is playing music.
Merlin nudges my hand, licks my palm, then stands there looking at me. “She will not welcome me right now, sweetie.” I open the screen. “Go with her.”
He pauses, his tail low, his wise old eyes transmitting some message I don’t understand. I wish I spoke Dog. “What is it?”
His tail waves slowly, and he looks back up the stairs.
“I know. Go to her. Take care of her.”
He trots up the stairs, and I close the screen door. Jonah comes up behind me, his hand making a comforting circle on the top of my back. I step away. “I need to think. To be alone.”
“I see.”
My head is hurting as I think about all the things I should be taking care of and I’m not. Katie. The bakery. Sofia. Every one of the failure tapes I’ve been hearing off and on through my life is playing at full volume in my head.
“I was remembering the day your mother came into the shop and was so upset. Do you remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I was so humiliated that she misunderstood everything, that she made me feel like such a slut.”
“And yet,” he says in that smooth amber voice, his fingers touching my bare neck, “she was worried for a reason. There was a lot of electricity between us. You were so lonely and I was”—he takes a breath, blows it out—“lost. Sad. It could have been dangerous.”
It is dangerous. It’s too dangerous. “Jonah, I’m sorry, but I think I need to be alone.”
He hesitates for a moment, then says, “Don’t make trouble where there is none, Ramona.”
“I’m not. Can you just give me a little space?”
“Absolutely.” He raises