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“I cry, too,” she admitted before looking back down at her clay. “I don’t want to… I try not to.”
“It’s okay to cry, Poppy.” I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of hers. “We all cry sometimes. It’s one of the ways we get through the hard times.”
“I don’t feel better when I cry.”
“I didn’t either… not at first. I felt so lost, and I couldn’t understand why this had happened to me. What did I do to deserve this? Why didn’t it happen to someone else?” I wasn’t sure if this was the right direction to go, but I went with my gut and continued, “I didn’t know what my life was going to be like without them. I just knew it wasn’t going to be the same.”
“But you got better.”
“I did, but it took some time.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “And if I’m being really honest, there are still times when I miss my parents. I miss them so much I cry. And I cry, and I cry. And I let myself, because it’s okay. I’m human, and I’m going to have bad days. But I still have people I love… places I want to go, and things I want to make. And sometimes, like today, I have to make them twice.”
“And that’s okay.”
“Yes, it’s okay.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she looked up at me and said, “My house is going to need a fireplace.”
“Okay. A fireplace would be nice.”
“And I want to make him a swing.”
“Okay. You can do that.”
“I want it to be his house.” She was coming around, but there was definitely something wrong. It was written all over her face. “No one else is allowed.”
“Okay. Fair enough.”
She worked for another couple of minutes before adding, “His name is still Turtle.”
“Of course. Whatever you want.”
And just like that, a tiny bit of her spark was back. Not all of it, but enough for me to know that it could return. She just needed a little time. I watched her walk toward the door with her little backpack bouncing against her shoulder.
I went to the door to see if Clara knew what might be going on, but Clara hadn’t come to pick her up. Instead, it was a young girl I hadn’t met before. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and she didn’t look to be much younger than me. “Hi, I’m Emery, Poppy’s art therapist. And you are?”
“I’m Katie, the babysitter.” She glanced down at Poppy and asked, “You ready?”
Poppy nodded and followed her out to the car. She didn’t give me a chance to ask about Clara or Poppy’s next appointment. I didn’t think much about it. I had Clara’s number and would call her in the morning, but as I watched Poppy climb into the stranger’s car without glancing back at me, the uneasy feeling in my stomach grew even stronger.
I closed the door and went over to my desk. I stared at the little clay turtle Poppy had made. It wasn’t quite finished, but neither was Poppy. I knew better than to think our little conversation fixed whatever was bothering her. But we would get there. I would make sure of it.
19
RAVAGE
“Already back at it?”
“Slowly but surely.”
“Can’t believe Emery released the chains long enough for you to get out of the house.”
“She doesn’t know. Hell, she’d have my ass if she knew I was here,” I confessed. “But I had to get out of there for a little while. I was going stir-crazy in that damn house.”
Stone shook his head. “You got shot in the chest less than two weeks ago, and you’ve already been back to the garage, against my orders, and now you’re here looking for trouble.”
“I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Well, you’re about to find it if you don’t stop pushing.”
