Page 103 of The Holiday Clause

“She could hear people, even when they didn’t say a word.”

Her throat burned. “Mom would want you to go inside, Dad.”

“I’m not ready yet.” He shook his head. “She should have been here, with us.”

Wren never complained about the care her father needed, but sometimes, when his episodes came during busy days, it was hard to prioritize his needs over hers. She’d been doing it sinceshe was fifteen, and learned long ago there was no rushing him when he got like this.

She picked up the glove he’d dropped. “Come inside with me, Dad. We can have tea together, and you can tell me everything that needs fixing. We’ll make a list, like we used to.”

He nodded. Not really agreeing, but yielding to the possibility. “A lot needs fixing around here.”

That hurt to hear, being that The Haven was less than five years old and she’d spent every spare minute she had fixing it up. “We’ll take care of everything. We’ll make it perfect—for Mom.”

He finally gave in and they walked toward the doors together.

Most days, Bodhi did as he pleased, taking care of the grounds, seeing to the cats, and drinking tea with Aunt Astrid when she visited. But every once in a while, he had an episode.

Maybe it stemmed from the drugs he did in his youth. Maybe his manic moods had to do with depression. Or maybe this represented just the broken pieces left over after a broken heart that never quite healed.

When he got confused like this, the best thing to do was get him back on track and make sure he got a decent night’s sleep. Wren didn’t pity her father or herself. This was what was left of their family, and she was grateful she still had one parent in her life.

It didn’t matter what others in the town said or thought about them. As long as they had each other, they were all right.

She set her father up in the sun room with his tea and asked Lilly to teach her class. The cats greeted Bodhi—their god—with purrs and loving headbutts.

“How’s the tea, Dad?”

“Perfect.”

There was less risk in taking care of him now than when she was younger. She didn’t have to worry that someone might seehim or judge him as an unfit parent. She didn’t have to worry someone might take him, or her, away.

Sometimes, his episodes lasted days. She used to miss school and truant officers would show up at her house. Then came the social services. If not for Greyson stepping in and helping her with Bodhi, she might have been forced into foster care.

Settling beside her father with a notepad, she clicked her pen. “Are you ready to make our list?”

Appearing startled by her company, he grinned. “No class today?”

She didn’t bother rehashing the last thirty minutes. There was no point. “I wanted to spend some time with you.”

His hand trembled as he set down his tea. “Well, that’s a treat. What kind of list did you want to make?”

“Whatever kind of list you want.” She set her pen to the paper and waited.

He sat back, cradling his mug in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. “Did I ever tell you about my time in Bali?”

“Yes, but tell me again.” She set down the notepad.

They never did make a list, but that was never the point. The point was making sure he felt safe and knew his world wouldn’t crumble without warning again.

By the end of the day, she was utterly drained, her emotional reserves empty as a dry well.

Several “new” students came in for the yoga class, and Wren was glad she ended up skipping. Most of them were town rumormongers, likely showing up for the gossip rather than the downward dog.

She had a quiet dinner with Bodhi that night, and helped him settle in. She stared at the clock, wondering what would happen at seven. After such a trying day, the thought of having a deep, emotional conversation with Greyson—no matter how long shewaited for that moment to come—was the last thing she wanted to do.

She was obviously procrastinating and still hadn’t responded to Soren, whose texts had gone from sweet to anxious to concerned to irritated, then back to sweet, then frustrated again. It was a roller coaster of emotions in digital form.

She deserved all of it, but wanted to deal with none of it.