“You know I love you, right?”
Ginny nodded.
“That I will always love you, right?”
“Yes,” she croaked out. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
Silas leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs. “You have to leave.”
Licking dry lips, she shook her head at him. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want you to, either. But it has to be this way. I have to increase my hours at work. The only reason my boss at the lumber yard hired me was because my mom talked him into it. That was before he found out Mom was sneaking around to meet up with Dad when he was at work. After he found out, he divorced her, but I was able to keep my job. None of the boys are going to be hired, since they think we’re all drug dealers because of the crazy signs Dad posted to keep trespassers out.”
“Because of me.”
Silas gave a crooked smile. “He might have grown a few pot plants for himself. Dad was no saint, despite what you think.”
“He was a good man—”
“Ginny ….”
“He was.” Ginny stubbornly refused to think poorly about her dad. “Dad posted those signs to protect me.”
“Yes and no. He got a kick out of competing with the Hayes and Porters about who could make the best no trespassing signs. Dad took it as a challenge.”
Ginny couldn’t argue with that. Some of her best memories were when their dad sat all the kids at the table with posters and paints to make the signs. “Yes, he did.”
Silas’s face twisted in grief before he looked at the clock on her bedside table. “You need to pick out what you want to take with you. The sheriff will be here in an hour to take you to your new home.”
“Please ….” Her heart hurt so badly. It was as if her dad and Leah were dying all over again. “I don’t want to go. Let me stay … Please don’t make me leave.” Unable to stop herself, she started crying.
“Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”
Ginny didn’t care that Silas was also trying hard not to cry. She didn’t want to leave her family.
“I won’t eat much, I swear. I’ll do all the chores. I can babysit.”
“Stop it! I don’t have a choice. Dad’s dead, and he’s not coming back. Someone in town reported to social services that the younger kids aren’t in school. I have to apply for guardianship for them.”
“You can apply for me, too—”
“I can’t. You know I can’t. Listen, Ginny, this isn’t a bad thing. You’ll be able to go to school now. You won’t have to be homeschooled anymore.”
“Will the boys be going to school with me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Will I be able to see them at school and come visit like Ezra and Fynn mothers let them do?”
“No, I think it will be better for us to make a clean break.”
“But, why? I can see them at school,” she sobbed out.
“Jesus, I’m doing this to protect you. No one in this town likes us, so the farther you stay away from us, the better. They’ll figure out that you hate us like the rest of the town.
“I burned a lot of bridges when I was younger. We weren’t always homeschooled. Me, Isaac, and Jacob used to go to school. We were made fun of because we all had different mothers. It’s Bible country—you’re supposed to marry when you have babies here. Dad didn’t. He couldn’t care less what those hypocrites thought. I cared, and so did the other boys. I wasn’t going to let the little ones be treated the same way. I did things I’m not proud of to get myself thrown out of school. I can’t change the way the others in town are going to act toward the other kids, but I can you.”
“I don’t care how they treat me if I stay here!”
“You do care, Ginny. You’re not thick-skinned like we are, and you’re smarter than any of us hope to be. You were the one that taught both Leah and Ezra to read. You’re too smart to make this mountain your life.
“Dad never told me why the sheriff wanted to hide you away from everyone, and I don’t want to know. Dad was paranoid about leaving you alone at the house, making sure he or I was always with you. He’s gone now, and I can’t be home all the time. To keep the younger ones fed, the older ones can’t be here with you constantly. Matt’s fourteen; he’ll be able to watch the smaller ones while we’re gone, but he’s not strong enough to protect them if whoever the sheriff is hiding you away from comes looking for you.”
“So I’m ex-penable.” She was crying so hard she could barely get the word out.
“It’s expendable.” His lips tightened in a firm line. “And no, you’re not expendable. I just can’t lose another sister.”