I was in the nothing but felt it was different. Softer. Warmer.
And then I wasn’t in the darkness any longer at all.
I was…
I tiptoed down the narrow hall. Momma and Papa would be upset with me. I was supposed to be in bed, but Ian was sleeping, hogging the blanket, and I…I had the bad dream again. The one that scared Momma and upset Papa. Made his jaw do that funny ticking thing, and his eyes look like stars.
I wouldn’t tell them about the dream this time. I was supposed to be a big girl for this trip. That’s what my papa told me. So, I tried to stay in the room they’d put us in. But I didn’t like this place. Smoke stained the walls, and the floor was sticky.
And I didn’t feel like a big girl after I dreamed.
I wanted my papa.
I neared the end of the hall and peered into a room lit by a flickering gaslight. Momma had called it a taproom, but I didn’t understand. There was no tapping. I scanned the shadows. The rough men drinking at the rickety tables and the women dressed as if ready for bed were gone. Clutching the robe Momma had dressed me in, I quickly crossed the chamber. The door was open, and I saw a man standing with his back to me, his hair redder than brown in the lamplight.
My steps slowed. I was as quiet as a mouse, but Papa still heard me. He always heard us, no matter how silent Ian and I were.
He turned, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Poppy-flower…”
I took off, running as fast as I could as he knelt. He caught me, the smell of citrus and lilac replacing the sour staleness of the inn as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” he asked.
“Ian took the blanket.” I clutched the front of his leather greatcoat. “And I was cold.”
Papa chuckled. “Is that truly the reason you’re not in your bed?”
I buried my heated face against his chest. “Uh-huh.”
“Poppy-flower.” He smoothed his hand down the back of my head. “Did you have a nightmare again?”
I shook my head.
“Are you telling me the truth?”
I didn’t like to lie to Papa, so I said nothing.
He sighed.
“I’m sorry,” I sniffled, my lips quivering.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Papa pulled back and clasped the sides of my face. “Don’t be sad.” He smiled at me. “What a pretty little flower you are. What a pretty poppy. Are pretty poppies ever sad?”
“No.” I giggled.
His green eyes twinkled like the stars as his smile widened. He leaned in and kissed the crown of my head. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”
“I love you more than all the fish in the sea,” I whispered back.
“That’s my girl.”
I felt his hands shake as he held my face. I didn’t like it. Was he sad? Scared? I never knew how he or Momma felt. They weren’t like the others in the taproom earlier.
The doors cracked open, letting in a gust of cold wind as a slender, hooded figure entered.
“Cora,” Papa called.
She stopped and turned to her right. I heard her sigh. “You should’ve known she would find a way down here.”
