a personal way and Melody lived somewhere else? Would she see that Bonnie’s Place was good for Mel? It allowed her independence but still kept her safe. Verity would see that, right?
He turned into the driveway, rolled down his window, and slipped his card into the reader, taking a quick moment to look at Verity’s profile as the gate slid open.
She turned to him, her eyebrows deeply furrowed. “What is this place?”
“Bonnie’s Place,” he said. “It’s a, um, a community for ment—developmentally disabled adults.”
“A community?” she said, her lips tightening. “You mean ‘a home.’ Behind gates.”
She didn’t say “like a jail,” but he heard her implication loud and clear.
“No,” he said softly but firmly. “I mean ‘a community.’ It’s a hybrid concept of independent living with some group home features.” She looked away from him, out the windshield. “Can you try to keep an open mind? For me?”
She whipped her head to face him, her eyes wide and churning. “I can try.”
“Thank you,” he said, resisting the urge to take her hand. He sensed that she needed a little space to make up her mind about Bonnie’s Place, and he wanted her to have it.
Sitting up straighter in her seat, she angled herself away from him, looking out the window at the manicured lawns and cheerful gardens, the tennis courts, sundries store, pool, and community center. Was it his imagination, or did her posture relax a little as he drove toward Mel’s complex? She didn’t seem as upset as he turned into the parking area at F.
After cutting the engine, he turned to her. “I’d really like for you to come upstairs and see Mel’s place, but if you’re not comfortable, I understand. I’ll just go get her and . . .”
Verity reached down and unbuckled her seat belt, then exited the car without looking at Colt.
Umm. Okay.
Colt grabbed the bag of Goldfish he kept in the glove compartment and handed it to Ryan in the backseat. “Ryan, uh, wait here a sec? We’ll be right down.”
“Okay, Colton.”
Colt opened his door and swung his body out, pushing the door closed before rounding the car. Verity stood next to the passenger door, her arms crossed over her chest, her face stern as she looked up at the building.
“Please don’t let me down,” she whispered.
And this time, he couldn’t help himself. Glancing back at Ryan, who was happily eating his crackers, he turned to Verity and took her hand, untucking it from her elbow and lacing their fingers together. He was relieved that she didn’t fight him, and even more relieved when she squeezed his fingers.
“I won’t,” he promised.
She looked up at him, her eyes so blue, it was like God had chosen the color from the sunniest summer sky he could possibly make. “Okay.”
He tugged her over to the front door and used his keycard to open it, holding the door for her. They entered the first-floor common room, where two of the residents were watching The Electric Company and Lamont was vacuuming the floor with earbuds on. Colt tried to look at the room through her eyes—at the worn but comfortable sofa, scratched wooden coffee table, and serviceable but clean beige carpet. There was an ivy plant on the table and framed pictures painted by the residents on the walls. It was clean and tidy, and homey. He hoped she could see it too.
“Oh. It’s Cousin Colt. It’s Cousin Colt. It’s Cousin Colt,” said Frieda, who sat on the couch beside Duane. “Cousin Colt is here. Look. It’s Cousin Colt.”
“Hi, C-C-C-Cousin C-C-C-Colt,” said Duane in halted speech, offering a huge smile that showcased his buck teeth.
“Hey, Frieda,” he said, giving her a little wave. “Hi, Duane.”
“Let’s tell Melody that Cousin Colt is here. Cousin Colt is here.”
Frieda stood up, tapping Duane on the shoulder, though his attention had gone firmly back to the TV. Lamont, who’d finally noticed Colt and Verity, switched off the vacuum and pulled out his earbuds. He wore the standard CM uniform: khaki pants and a navy blue polo shirt, but his afro seemed higher than ever today.
“Colt, my brother!” he exclaimed, offering his hand and a cheerful smile to Colt and Verity. “Man, oh, man, who is this?”
Colt smirked. “Behave.”
“She is not with you.”
“Yes, she is,” said Verity, giving Lamont a small grin.
“Lucky devil,” said Lamont.
“Cousin Colt. Cousin Colt. Lamont, Cousin Colt is here.”
“Yes, he is, sweet Frieda.”
“I’ll get Mel. Mel. Mel. Mel.”
“Frieda,” said Lamont, gently but firmly. “The bus will be here in—” He