need anything, that you want anything. Not to have anyone think you’re small, and they’re big.”
“Yes.” She was looking at me at last, so much honesty in her face. “But that isn’t what I wanted to say. I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came to talk about you. To say that I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, and I’ve been …”
“Bitchy?” I suggested.
She laughed out loud. “Well, yeh. In fact, I think that’s the exact word. Bitchy.”
“Yeh, nah,” I said, and smiled. “A willful woman’s just a woman who knows what she wants.” I touched her cheek. Soft skin. Fine bones. “No worries, Daisy. You said it. I get it.”
I could see her swallow, and I could see what it had cost her to make herself this vulnerable. I told her, “You take care of everyone. It’s who you are, and it’s a beautiful thing to be that brave and that strong. It’s harder, though, to let somebody take care of you.”
“It’s never,” she said.
“Takes trust,” I said. “Takes faith. You know what they say, though.”
“What do they say?” Her eyes were big and dark and clear in her delicate face, and they were holding mine right here.
I smiled again, and I touched her face again, too, just because I liked her face so much. “Never say never.”
25
Like a Brother
Daisy
An hour later, Fruitful was still saying, “I feel naked.”
“You’re not naked,” I said. “You’re wearing a T-shirt, and my jeans are baggy on you.” Since Fruitful did have thin thighs.
Unfortunately, my feet were smaller than either of my sisters’, making my shoes unworkable, so she was barefoot. But then, the huge white trainers would have looked awful with the too-short, non-skinny skinny jeans, so just as well.
Obedience was wearing a dress, and the shoes looked even worse than they would have with jeans. Jeans hadn’t worked for her, though, because she wasn’t as skinny as me. Both girls could wear my shirts and undies, but bras, shoes, trousers, and skirts were out. We needed to go shopping. “And don’t talk to me,” I said. “I’m focusing on the road.”
“This is such a cold car,” Obedience said.
It took me a second. “Cool,” I said. “It’s a cool car.” On the one hand, I wanted to drive it fast and see what it could do. On the other hand, I could just see myself having another smash. Wouldn’t that go over well.
So, obviously, the car wasn’t an old sedan with rust spots. The car, in fact, was a ten-year-old Ford Mustang, its cherry-red paint still gleaming bright, and it had an engine that growled all the way down into your bones like a tiger that was ready to run. No matter what Gray said, he’d care if this one didn’t remain in one piece.
It was only a fifteen-minute drive to the hospital, fortunately, so I didn’t have to focus for long. It was nice, to feel like you were out in the country but only be ten minutes from downtown, but now I was downtown, and expecting something terrible to happen at any moment. An abandoned shopping trolley to come careening down the hill and crash into the extra-shiny hood. An old lady to misjudge her turn and scrape the entire side. Some clueless idiot to rear-end me.
Oh, wait. That had already happened. I felt marginally better.
This car, though. And he didn’t drive it? If I’d owned this car, I’d have driven it even when I didn’t have to go anywhere. I’d have sat in the driveway in it. I didn’t understand Gray. I’d say he’d been born rich and took it for granted, but I could tell, after meeting Honor, that it wasn’t true. Honor was a working woman, and I’d swear she always had been.
I parked on the top level of the hospital carpark, because I could keep extra spaces around us that way and avoid car doors being opened bang into the gleaming paintwork. Obedience said, “I think Gray must like you, if he’s letting you drive his car.”
I helped Fruitful out and told Obedience, “Get on her other side. Fruitful, put your arms over our shoulders,” headed to the lifts, and didn’t answer. That was because I was confused.
I’d expected Gray to be narky back there, in his house. He’d sounded that way when he’d left us at the yurt, and I’d understood why. But when he’d touched my face, he’d been … sweet. And the look in his eyes …