The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(82)

Della’s soft, pretty voice piped up beside me, “That will be one hundred and sixty dollars, please.” She flashed me a look as the guy fisted out the bills and passed them to me.

I grunted a thanks and shoved it into my pocket with the rest.

As the car accelerated, giving room for a new customer to trundle across the paddock, I inched closer to Della and squeezed her shoulder.

She gave me a sad pout. “I forgot. I’m so mean.”

“Forgot what?” I whispered under my breath.

She kicked the gate, her spine rolling. “That you can’t calculate.”

I stiffened. “It’s not something I need to know in order to live my life.” Forcing a grin, I added, “That’s why I have you.”

She gave me a weak smile, moving away from my touch and toward the customers pulling to a stop in their black SUV.

The elderly man beamed at her. “We have three bales.”

She looked at the sky, counted, then said, “That is twenty-four dollars, please.”

The guy passed over three tens and Della turned to me. “Do you have change?”

Aside from yanking out all the bills in my pocket and checking what I’d stuffed in there, I didn’t know. Instead of embarrassing myself, I shook my head. “Sorry. We did specify correct change only.”

Della stood frozen. “What do I do?”

The driver assured her, “Keep the change, honey. Buy yourself something nice for the holidays.”

He took off before I could punch him for calling her honey.

For the rest of the day, Della was my calculator, business manager, and boss.

And each time she gave a customer a figure, I battled with the knowledge that I would never be her equal again as she was utterly brilliant, and I would forever remain adequately passable.

*

That night, I lay staring at the ceiling, doing my best to figure out how people took one number and multiplied it by another to form a different one.

I did what the TV show had mentioned, but try as I might, steps were missing that I didn’t have.

As much as I loved working with my hands and running the farm, I really should teach myself basic things like math and English.

Somehow.

Della’s voice threaded through the darkness from her single bed across the room. “Ren…?”

My head turned on the pillow to face her. The slightly less dark of her bedspread and lightness of her hair were the only things I could make out. “Yeah?”

“These school holidays…can I? Um, do you want me to…. I can show you what I learned if you want?” Her voice dwindled before coming back sharp with determination. “What I learned at school. I’ll show you. I mean, only if you want.”

My heart fisted hard.

I didn’t answer, not because she’d unmanned me or made me feel like an idiot, but because her offer was so perfectly her. So kind. So sweet.

When silence became oppressive, and I still hadn’t said yes because I was so in awe of her generous offer, she murmured, “Tomorrow, I’ll show you a couple of things. You can decide after if you want to know more.” She rolled over, giving me her back.

And I lay in the darkness, thanking her.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE


DELLA



Present Day





A WHILE AGO, I mentioned I’d committed all seven deadly sins starting with wrath when I hated Cassie at first sight.

I was hoping I could skip over the others as I don’t really want to reveal just how awful a person I became, but I don’t think I have a choice. Not because I’m actually rather normal and felt nothing that someone else hasn’t before me, but because I committed the rest of them all in a three-year period.

Clever, huh?

I went from innocent child to terrible human being all in the space of a few short years.

The first one I’ll mention is pride.

And that one was Ren’s fault.

I was taught at school that it was okay to be proud of achieving high marks if you’d studied hard and deserved it. It was okay to be proud of a drawing or accomplishment because that was the reward for striving to be better and succeeding. As long as you didn’t brag or boast, a bit of self-praise was encouraged.

So, armed with that free pass, I already had a complex relationship with the meaning of pride seeing as I’d flirt with the feeling on a regular basis thanks to my love of learning and ability to recall most things that the teacher said.

I had a good circle of friends—only a few who I can remember names now—but I do remember a group bullying me and calling me a teacher’s pet. Funny how I didn’t mind. I was rather glad because if I was a teacher’s pet that meant I was loved more because I did the right thing.

Or at least, that’s what I figured it meant seeing as a pet was a family’s pride and joy—not that Ren and I had one, and the barn cats that lived at the Wilsons were there as hunters to keep the grain nibble-free rather than to be cuddled and pampered.

Anyway, I’m digressing…these tangents I keep chasing are becoming worse the longer I write. If I wasn’t just going to delete this entire thing, I’d have some serious editing to do.

Anywho…

Pride.

Ren.

That’s right…get back to the story, Della.