Grace pointed at me as she ran an assessing glance over Emme. “Do I need to beat him up?” she asked. With a laugh, my wife said, “No, please don’t. There’s been enough bloodshed for one night.” “If you say so,” Grace said, a slur loosening her words. “But I am going to make him sleep in the barn.” “No, you’re not,” Shay said. “You have a worse place in mind?” Grace asked her. “With the goats? You have chickens. What about the chickens? I enjoy punishment and suffering. There must be both.”
