Because telling you to stop without offering you something better would just mean the worry doesn't go away, Clara said. It just goes back to living inside you with nowhere to put itself. That seems worse. Emma stared at her. I've been looking at the accounts.
Clara said carefully neutral. The family's financial situation. I've been organizing the records. You don't have to keep doing this alone. It's my family, Emma said.
It is, Clara agreed. And it's also your father's family. And you're 14 years old, Emma. My mother was 15 when she started running her family's household, Emma said. I know, Clara said.
And I imagine she was remarkable. I also imagine she didn't want this for you. The words landed. Emma looked down at the ledger. Her hands Clara noticed were trembling very slightly, just the fingers just barely before she pressed them flat on the table.
I'm scared, Emma said very quietly. As if the admission cost her something. I know, Clara said. If the ranch fails, then we figure out what comes next. Clara said that's all we can do.
But Emma, she waited until the girl looked up. You are allowed to be a daughter. You do not have to carry an entire family on your shoulders. That is not your job. It was never your job.
And your mother? Clara paused, made sure her voice was steady. Your mother would not want you to grow up this fast. Emma's eyes filled. She blinked hard twice, three times.
Pushed it back down. You don't know what my mother would want. She said, "No." Clara agreed. "But I know what your father wants because he hired a stranger to come out here rather than let you carry this alone any longer. That was him trying to give you some of your childhood back."
The kitchen was very still. The water on the stove began to whisper, "Not yet boiling, just beginning to move." Emma looked at the ledger. Then she pushed it across the table to Clara. Not all the way.
Just a few inches. Just enough. The bank," she said. "There's a number here that doesn't add up." Clara pulled the ledger toward her.