Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I smiled at him. “That’s terribly sneaky of you.”
“Well, Jake and I were talking, before he and Hannah took their break, and when I asked him why he thought Finn’s parents weren’t a hundred percent behind their engagement—because we know they’re not homophobic—he said he was pretty sure it was their head picture.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
His chuckle made me smile. “That’s what I said. I mean, Jake, right? He’s normally right about things, but getting it out of him takes some patience.”
It was true, but Harper and Kola both had the most history of figuring it out. No two people on the planet knew Jake better, with Hannah bringing up a strong third.
“But when I said head picture out loud, I knew what he meant. So, to rebut that, I thought I would make a movie and show them the high points while sort of sandwiching it in the whole, we’re celebrating Kola and look at his life.”
I nodded.
“And Wick, he’s the anthropologist, right? Instead of letting me fill a reel with every one of Kola’s accomplishments, he said, make it as human and relatable as possible.”
“Yes,” I said, getting choked up.
“I mean, we don’t have home movies of Kola being born, but we have him meeting the extended Kage family for the first time and everyone kissing and hugging him. His grandmother rocking him to sleep, riding around on Mr. Kage’s shoulders, his bike and the great ramp incident from third grade.”
I shook my head. “Your mother and I are still not over that, you understand.”
“It just needed to be longer,” Harper assured me.
The horror of a ramp from roof to garage, that was only the width of a tire, could still wake me up out of a dead sleep.
“Yes, dear,” I placated him.
His eyes narrowed. “Jake’s designs always work. You people just don’t have his vision.”
“Just go on,” I ordered him.
“It’s not really about Kola at all,” he said with a shrug. “It’s about them seeing that you and Mr. Kage are just like them.”
I was suddenly overwhelmed.
“And Kola and Finn, being together, getting married, raising kids, buying a house, is going to look the same as everyone else. I mean, when it comes right down to it, Kola and Finn are watching Netflix on Saturday night just like everyone else.”
“I love that,” I whispered.
He hugged me after that.
Of course, Finn’s parents went right back to thinking we were crazy people when Hannah started talking about her Samhain candles. The witch thing really didn’t sit well with Finn’s mother.
Now, a while ago, I explained to all of you about Sodalite, which is an organization that Aja, Dylan, and I are a part of. Basically, we move women, and sometimes their children with them, out of dangerous situations. We basically are told where to pick someone up and where to take them so they will be safe. I don’t keep people in my home, I can’t because of Sam, not because he would ever say no, but he’s in law enforcement and it would be a mess. This is why I solely do transport. But what’s happened, because of the presence of ICE agents now in Chicago, is that we could be stopped for any contrived reason, only to find out that Mrs. Smith and her child are missing and must be returned to wherever. If identities were checked, in theory, a woman could be returned to her abuser. The whole thing has an extra added component of danger now, and last Thursday night I found myself driving down Wacker at a good clip to try and outmaneuver agents that had seen us exit a building at nine at night and asked for ID.
I didn’t stop, instead got my charges in the car, a woman and her two little boys, and both Aja and Dylan soothed them. When the agents ran up to my van, three in all, I simply told them I had to go several times, and when the first one threatened to break my window, I pulled away from the curb.
“Okay, I think it’s fine,” Aja said from the passenger seat.
“It’s not fine,” Dylan informed her. “They’re following us. Do you not hear the siren and see the lights?”
“It could be a mistake,” I assured her as the SUV tried to come up alongside my minivan. I mean really, the optics were absurd.
“Please,” the woman said from the very back seat where she was clutching her children. “I can’t go back to him. He’ll kill me.”
I had no intention of letting that happen, but by the same token, I wasn’t completely sure what I was going to do.
When I saw the turn-off for Wacker, and then Lower Wacker, I knew I was in good shape. Lower Wacker was the way to go.
“Where are we?” the distraught woman asked. She and her boys had come in from Green Bay and were making their way west.