The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(81)

I looked at the farmhouse, cursing John and wishing someone, anyone, would come out and help, but no one did. I sucked up my disgrace that all this time I’d never let John know the extent of my illiteracy. I’d never counted in front of him, never read anything. I’d always gotten around doing the books and tabulations because Patricia was an accountant by trade and enjoyed crunching numbers.

“Hey? You hear me? How much?” the guy pushed.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I muttered, “It’s eight dollars a bale so…” I did my best to force a brain that had never been taught arithmetic to perform a miracle.

“Eighty bucks.” The guy grabbed some cash from his pocket and peeled off four twenties. “Here you go.”

Our hands met as he shoved the bills into my palm and gave me a quick nod. He drove away before I could hope to work out if I’d just been ripped off or if that was the correct amount.

A red car started in the distance with a trailer piled high with hay.

I gulped as it turned toward me and the gate.

Shit.

Wedging the cash into my back pocket, my eyes trailed back to the farmhouse, begging for rescue.

And that was when I saw her.

Della.

She leapt out of Cassie’s Corolla, laughing at something Cassie said as they made their way toward the kitchen door. At the last second, Della looked up as if she sensed me staring at her.

Our eyes locked across meadows and driveways, and she waved once.

I waved back, adding a come here motion at the end.

I held my breath. She could go with Cassie. After all, it was school holidays, and she’d been spending a lot of time riding and going to the mall as well as playing with friends her own age.

I still didn’t trust Cassie’s loose morals wouldn’t rub off on her, but I’d been fierce with her on our second or third time sleeping together. I’d flat out warned her if she ever let Della kiss, fondle, or fuck a boy while she was with her, I’d murder her with my bare hands.

She’d laughed.

I hadn’t.

The subject hadn’t been broached since.

Instead of continuing into the house like Liam would’ve done, Della said something quick to Cassie then tore toward me.

Her bony knees flashed beneath her yellow skirt, the matching yellow and white daisy top flopping on her shoulders while her hair gleamed as bright as the sun above.

Sweat glistened on her forehead as she finally careened to a stop beside me, squinting in the brightness. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I smiled as she threw herself into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Sometimes, I was taken aback to find her head reached my ribcage when only yesterday her face was the very inconvenient height of my groin. “Have a good day in town?”

“Meh, it was okay. Just hung at the mall. I’m getting bored of doing that. Would much rather be here with you.”

“I’d rather you be here, too.” I kissed her hair as she pulled away, looking at the unusual traffic on the paddock.

Her nose wrinkled as two incompetent city folk struggled to lift a bale and place it into their shiny new Ute. “What’s happening?”

“Free for all.”

“Uncle John is giving his hay away for free?” Her mouth fell open. “Whoa.”

“Not free, free.” I moved position and rested my elbows on the moss-covered gate. “I have to charge them as they leave.”

She eyed me carefully. “Having fun?”

I snorted. “Does it sound like something I’d do for fun?”

“Nope.” Her giggle made me so grateful that I had at least one person I could be honest with. Who knew me. The real me. Not the Ren Cassie flirted with, or the Ren John and Patricia nurtured. Ren, the runaway who’d never learned how to read and write.

She climbed the gate, her white sneakers blinding compared to my dirt-covered steel caps. “I can help…if you want?”

I ordered myself not to nod like a demented dog. Instead, I cocked my head and looked at her critically. “Think you can handle adding up hay bales and then multiplying by eight dollars?”

She frowned. “I think so? I dunno…”

“Well, how about you try one?” I suggested. “If someone had ten bales, how much would they owe?” I had to look away, hating that I was using her to double check I hadn’t been screwed over. A kid helping an adult do his job. What sort of asshole was I?

Della looked at the sky, her little lips moving before she announced with a flourish, “Eighty dollars.”

Great, he didn’t screw me.

I gave her a high five. “Awesome work. Your brain is a flawless machine.”

She beamed. “So…can I help?”

“I’d love your help.” The urbanites and their new Ute rolled toward us, their windows down and the wife fanning herself with her hat. “In fact, here’s your first client.”

Thank God, I had Della beside me because my heart itched with panic as my eyes flew over the stack of bales they’d chosen.

No way could I count and add that many.

The driver with his thin beard said, “We have twenty. What’s the damage?”

I should be able to snap out a figure. I wanted to. But unlike when it came to building something or surviving in the elements or seed management and crop rotation, my mind shut down and went numb.