Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
In Magnolia, I own and operate a successful landscaping business. I even have a catchy name: Jenkins Landscaping. When you’re twenty-two and facing fatherhood, you do what you need to do to take care of your child. I wasn’t exactly thinking when I turned my childhood mowing job into a full-fledged business. Mostly, it was just easy.
Landscaping pays the bills and then some, but only thanks to the people of Magnolia Grove. Outsiders have tried to come into town, but they never seem to stay around. People here are loyal. We’re all family.
Even those of us who don’t get along.
“Uh, not until October,” I tell her as I drop to my knees and set the next firecracker into the ground. After I work the soil around the root loose, I fill the hole with feed and then topsoil, packing it down.
“What? That is just blasphemy.”
I don’t have the heart to tell Ms. Linda her use of blasphemy doesn’t really work in this situation. I’m sure she knows, and embarrassing her isn’t high on my list of things I’d like to do.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ms. Goldie needs to live in Magnolia, among her people.”
Her people would be my parents and a slew of great-aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as every honorary family member out there. While I don’t disagree, Franco has a big family and, according to my daughter, they treat her well. As much as I’d love for Goldie to live here full-time, it’ll never happen unless her mother moves to Alabama, and since our drunken hook-up ruined her chances at the University of Alabama, she’s sworn the state off.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, only to be polite.
Before I start to dig the next hole, my phone rings. I don’t bother to look at the caller ID. “Jenkins.”
“Is this Wade Jenkins?”
“Speaking.” I pull my phone away from my ear and look at the number. It’s unfamiliar except for the 904-area code. “Who is this?”
“Yes, hi. This is Moira Banks. I’m a nurse at Jacksonville Hospital. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Anastasia Starke. She asked me to call and let you know she’s in the hospital and she needs you to come immediately.”
“My daughter? Is she okay?”
“Yes, sir. She’s with our social worker right now.”
I look at Ms. Linda, who stands and looks at me like I need to fill her in. “Is Ana okay?”
“Sir, it’s best for us to talk when you get here.”
“I’m on my way, but it’s a four-to-five-hour drive, depending on traffic.”
“I’ll be here.” She hangs up. I stand there for a moment, with my phone held against my ear. Finally, my hand moves of its own volition.
“Uh, Ms. Linda. I need to head up to Jacksonville. Something’s going on with Goldie’s mom, and she needs me. I’ll . . .” I pause and look at the mess I’ve left in her yard. It’s very unlike me to leave a mess behind. “I’ll send my dad over, and he’ll get this cleaned up.”
“Don’t you worry, Wade. Go on. This can wait until you get back.”
I nod and force myself to react. By the handful, I grab my tools, buckets, and anything else I can scoop up. Ms. Linda helps and carries things to my truck.
“Let me make you a sandwich,” she says after she drops two firecracker shrubs next to my tire. Honestly, I would’ve left those here, but I put them into the back of my truck anyway.
“Don’t worry about it, Ms. Linda. I need to get on the road. When I stop for gas, I’ll grab something to eat.”
When she doesn’t argue with me, I know she senses how serious this—whatever it may be—is.
“I’ll get an update from your mom.”
I nod and hop into my truck and head toward the interstate. As soon as I’m out of town, I call my dad, give him the details, and ask him to check in with Linda.
“Call us as soon as you know what’s going on,” he says before we hang up.
By the time I make it to Jacksonville and the hospital, visiting hours are long over, but the woman I spoke to earlier has put my name on a list, which allows me to go in. The guard gives me directions to where I need to go, and when I reach the floor, I head directly to the nurse’s desk.
“Hi, I’m Wade Jenkins. Moira Banks called me about Anastasia Starke.”
“I’m Moira,” she says, shaking my hand. She motions for me to follow her down the hall. We come to a closed door, and she knocks softly before we head in.
Ana’s in bed, lying on her side. Next to her, a machine beeps. As I approach her bed, I see Goldie curled into her mother.
“Ana?” I say quietly. She looks at me over her shoulder, and my heart sinks. Someone has done a number on her face. Both eyes are black and blue, her nose looks broken, and she has a bandage on her cheek. As well as a cast on her arm.