[[OLD]] A Handful of Daffodils (Forgotten Series, #7)

Chapter Thirteen

A Week Later

I felt restless, like there was an unreachable an itch underneath my skin. It had been three months since my Chrissie had died, since I had buried her in the ground and I had suddenly realized just how much I hadn't done. Menza kept the house clean and never let the interior feel dim. She brought Maeve out to socialize and visit, softly talking to my little female, and with that brightness came awareness that I hadn't done anything.

My house, while not anywhere near rundown, was starting to look neglected, the yard had overgrown and I knew the gutters needed to be cleaned. It was like when Menza had tossed the curtains open and polished everything to a shine, she had thrown a very bright light on my current failings. I mourned my Chrissie, I did and I felt her loss like a brutal bone break that wasn't healing, but even I knew Chrissie wouldn't have liked me let my life get so shadowed and neglected.

It had honestly started when I had made Menza and myself dinner a few nights ago. It had been simple and easy but that was what started that overbearing itch underneath my skin. So I had then shaved, started taking care of myself as well as Maeve. Now I had finished mowing the lawn and the gutters had been cleaned and the flower beds that Chrissie had so lovingly tended to, had been weeded.

The flowers had still been there and I had fought hard not to cry as I remembered Chrissie digging in the flower beds, her pink and green gardening gloves on, her floppy sunhat hanging in her face. It had been bittersweet to see all those flowers and remember my female but I had gotten it done. Afterwards Menza had brought Maeve out and then quietly asked if I would like for her to tend to the flower beds.

My first instinct had been to snap at her and to tell her to never touch them but I forced myself to pause, to look at the flowers and understand that Menza was asking because flowers needed care and attention to continue to survive. That Menza wasn't asking to rip it all out and start again, just to take care of what my Chrissie had planted and cared for. I knew I had paused for a little too long when she had asked me if this was one of the moments I needed a bit more time with. I had said yes and then decided I would take care of them myself, at least for now. And with that she had quietly nodded her acceptance without a single ounce of judgement before showing Maeve the flowers.

It was easier for me, to view her as sort of a guest, a permanent guest, but a guest none-the-less. She was a good female, a kind one. Our talk a week ago had let me know that despite how horrendous her father had been, that no matter how poorly I had treated her, she honestly believed she deserved it. Which had made my stomach sour, especially when she had looked up at me, her brown eyes wide and filled with confusion at my lack of understanding that she understood exactly what her father did tossing her to me.

She had known, right from the start. She understood she was to never again be underneath her father's protection after he had tossed her at me. It was not a nice feeling, realizing that the rather sweet female had been browbeaten and neglected to the point she was fully aware of what her father had done and simply expected it. I couldn't understand it but then again I looked at my little Maeve and knew I would never, ever, revoke my protection from her. She could be a hundred years old and I would always be there for her, my reach of protection still wrapped around her.

However the entire situation made me feel like an utter asshole for treating Menza as I had. She was a lost female, someone who believed in the worth her father gave her and had simply accepted the verbal barbs about her being unwanted that I had tossed at her from the moment she had entered my home. I just wished I could give her the worth that she had, rather than what her father had given her. But unless I was passing her off to another, I had no recourse for that. It just didn't sit right with me that she had simply accepted all of it because she believed it was my right to be as horrible to her as I had been.