With my thoughts heavily detailed by what could have been, I touched the wood, whispering a message to my baby that I kept personal. Even from Woodrow.
The guilt on me for not being able to protect her had crippled me for years, but as the sun caressed me with its glow, I felt lighter. I saw the blame for what it was. . . someone else's.
I felt her forgiveness. . . and a mother's love.
I stayed at her grave, talking over toys and singing lullabies. I hadn't sung in years. I left my voice on this land a long time ago, and I guess I got it back by returning here.
We stayed until the sun dipped, hiding behind the clouds, until Bushy Tail dropped to his back and fell asleep with his legs in the air. Woodrow tickled the cat's little belly, and realized, he hadn't fed the little guy since this morning when we stoppedfor breakfast.
My stomach rumbled, and it sounded like thunder as the clouds rolled across the sky.
Woodrow stood before me. He scooped up the kitten into his arms, and the small animal scaled his torso to climb onto his broad shoulders, where he did the loving little head bump we'd quickly become accustomed to.
Woodrow's hand reached out to me, and I took it. He pulled me up, my legs feeling like lead because I didn't want to leave our girl.
“Come with me; I have something else to show you.”
Curiosity had allowed him to guide me inside, where colors of white, pastel pinks, and loving lilacs all greeted me. The lack of clutter held appeal, as did the fact that there was no green or no darkness in sight.
I continued on, fingers stroking the softness of the newly plastered walls as I moved deeper into the house.
I could smell daisies, and not the ones breezing in from the door still open where Woodrow stood. Flowers inside the house, calling me forward.
Bushy tail ran off ahead of me, examining his new surroundings and not understanding the feel of the wooden floor beneath his feet as he skidded into the kitchen.
I followed him, slightly irked to find him sitting on the center island, washing his rear end with the tongue that would be all over me later. A large vase sat in the center of the island, close to Bushy's butt. Its glass base showed off long stems. Giant gerberas stood proudly, showing off big pink and white heads, matching the accessories scattered around.
The front door swung shut, a slight click in the distance. Woodrow stepped into another doorway. The kitchen, somehow, felt warmer in his presence as his sexy side smile landed on me as I smelled the daisies. “They weren’t plucked for nothing. You’ll see in time. And you’ll find a bunch in almost every room of this house.”
I nodded, not asking questions as I moved around to take in the details of the pretty room.
“It's very bright.” I admired the high gloss cabinets, fingers still trailing. I pushed a button on an already plugged-in coffee machine, and a vanilla latte began pouring into the cup set in place.
I continued around the space, having no interest in the drink I'd made.
My eyes snagged on another door, indented white panels carved into the wood and a golden doorknob engraved with flowers—a totem of the innocence concealed—made it look so different to how I remembered it, with its ruined wood that rattled with my screams. Bad memories poured over me and filled me to the brim like the coffee in the cup.
I reached for the knob, my thumb shaking as it brushed the engravings.
“Open it,” an instruction I didn't want to follow entered my ears.
My eyes answered, screaming,‘absolutely fucking not!’
The hair on my neck lifted from my skin, emphasizing my fear.
“You'll be surprised.”
I looked at him, warily. Pleading to his softer side. Praying to Heaven, and hoping Hell didn't answer.
He didn't say anything else. He stayed, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, awaiting my decision.
My hand swallowed the pretty daisy design, and I turned the knob, squeezing hard enough to conceal my nerves as I ignored the fear churning in my gut. This morning's breakfast made threats to splatter the floor, and I suddenly wondered if I regretted eating like it would be my last meal.
“Trust me.”
I didn't trust him. . . all of a sudden. I feared there was a dark and sinister reason for me to go down there. But I pushed it away as I pushed the door wide.
My good eye spotted a crystal pull at the end of a long string. I tugged the crystal and light flooded down the wooden steps. I breathed easier under the illumination—something thisroom never had.
