Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Or little people.”
Denali glanced at her mother, a silent seeking of approval.
“And you’d be even higher than on my shoulders,” Runa said.
Permission given, Denali turned back to me and threw her arms up in the air.
There it was again—that odd stitch in my chest.
I reached down, turning her, then lifting her up by the waist.
She was so much lighter than I expected. I was half-worried I’d picked her up too hard, that she might go flying. But she was up and settled on my back, her tiny legs hanging over my shoulders, her hands patting the top of my head.
Runa shared a smile with me, then we were off again.
With Denali so close, though, we didn’t really get a chance to have any more grown-up conversations as we moved past the painted dogs, lions, and, finally, the elephants.
“Mama, can we picnic?” she asked as we moved past the orangutans—the final enclosure—and started back toward the entrance. “I can share with York.”
There it was again, more worry on Runa’s face.
Those money issues I’d wondered about earlier must have been worse than I realized.
“Actually, if it’s okay with your mother, maybe I can treat you to lunch at the cafe.”
“Can we, Mommy?” Denali gasped.
Runa’s smile was soft, and a little sad around the edges. “Of course we can.”
“What kind of sauce do they have?” Denali asked, then started a long list of various sauces she liked as we queued up behind a line of other people.
“Thank you,” Runa whispered.
“Think I’m the one who has a lot to thank you for.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Runa
I’d packed sandwiches with what was left of our lunch meat, and hoped Denali wouldn’t ask to stop at one of the several restaurants in the park.
She didn’t usually ask for things like that, but the scents were wafting through the air, making my stomach rumble, so I was sure hers was too.
To her credit, she didn’t ask.
But York offered, and how thrilled she’d been had made my heart sink a little. Because I couldn’t offer her that. Because I couldn’t treat her to all the things she deserved to experience.
Sure, York buying our tickets had saved me a little cash, but what I had left would have to go to essentials. Like more motel room rentals. Food. Some new shoes for Denny.
“Runa?” York called, making me jolt out of my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“What do you want, Mama?” Denali, still on York’s shoulders, asked.
“Oh, right. The veggie burger sounds good. Do you know what you want?”
“York got me chicken nuggets.”
“Oh, good.”
“And fries.”
“Even better.”
“And number sauce.”
“What’s number sauce?” I asked.
“305 sauce,” York explained after ordering my burger. “We don’t know what it is, but we’re going to give it a try.”
“Denny is really good at trying new things, right, munchkin?” I asked as we made our way over to a table.
“Mommy says I have to try. I don’t have to like it, but I have to try.”
“That’s good. Anything you don’t like?”
“Spinach,” Denali said, face twisting up. “And mushrooms.”
“But she loves broccoli, carrots, asparagus, and salad greens,” I said, feeling oddly like I needed to defend her food tastes. Even if, objectively, she probably ate better than most since I couldn’t afford all the junk food I’m sure she would love.
“All with dip?” York asked.
“Uh-huh.”
Now that he reopened the dip can of worms, it was all Denali wanted to talk about while we ate our food, even going so far as to express sadness that the zoo animals couldn’t have sauce with their food.
York was surprisingly good with her. It helped that Denny was chatty and held up most of the conversation. But York was getting the hang of conversation with his daughter—adding little factoids she ate up, agreeing with her statements, offering his own very simplified thoughts.
Lunch was over before we knew it, and all three of us tensed a bit, not sure what to do, what to say as we walked out of the cafe.
Then, there it was.
The gift shop.
My stomach tightened the second I saw Denny notice it as well. And when she looked up, her eyes as wide as a doll’s, I knew she was going to ask.
“Okay,” I agreed.
I didn’t remind her of our golden rule when it came to toy shopping: you can get one thing. She knew it inside and out. And it broke my heart a little each time I said it.
As we moved inside, I said a silent prayer that she chose one of the little stuffed animals that were fifteen bucks instead of the nearly thirty-dollar ones. But I’d buy either one. Just for a small treat to remember a very important day to her.
Then I could spend all night figuring out work to start as soon as possible.
“Mama! Painted dogs!” She rushed over to the stuffed animal, petting its head.
“Is that the one you want?” I asked.