All the Little Lights(96)

I lay on my stomach, holding my pillow and facing Elliott. He reached over, gently pulling my chin until my lips were against his. We’d kissed dozens of times before, but this time his hand slid down my thigh and he hooked my knee at his hip. I melted against him, a warm sensation forming in my chest and spreading to the rest of my body.

“Elliott,” I whispered, pulling away, “thank you for doing this. But—”

“I know why I’m here,” he said, tucking his hands under the pillow. “Sorry, you can sleep. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. Just like tonight. Bad things happen whether we want them to or not.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“How? How can you not? What they did was awful.”

“You’ve spent two years fending for yourself inside the Juniper and at school. I can handle a few more months of school.” He hesitated. “Catherine . . . what was it like? After your dad died?”

I sighed. “Lonely. Minka and Owen tried to come over a lot at first, but I’d just turn them away. Eventually I stopped answering the door, and they stopped trying. They got angry. That made it a little easier. It was hard to ignore them when they were sad.”

“Why did you stop letting them in?”

“I couldn’t let anyone in.”

“I know I’m not supposed to ask why—”

“Then please don’t.”

Elliott smiled. He reached over, sliding his fingers between mine.

“Elliott?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think not loving me would be easier?”

“Never. Not once.” He settled back against the headboard and pulled me against him, resting his chin on top of my head. “That’s something I can promise.”



“Catherine!” Poppy called from downstairs.

“Coming!” I yelled, pulling a brush through my hair a few times before hurrying down the steps. Monday mornings were always hectic, but especially when Poppy was at the Juniper.

I smiled when I saw her sitting in the kitchen alone. She looked unhappy, and it didn’t take long to see why.

“No breakfast this morning?” I asked, looking around. Other than a tray with remnants of a ham sandwich and grape stems, there were no eggs, no sausage, not even toast.

Poppy shook her head, her curls frizzy and tangled. “I’m hungry.”

I frowned. It was the first time Mama had missed breakfast since we’d opened.

“How did you sleep?” I asked, already knowing the answer. The thin skin beneath Poppy’s eyes was purple.

“There were noises.”

“What kind of noises?” I pulled out a pan from the cabinet beneath the stove and then opened the refrigerator. “No bacon. No eggs . . .” I frowned. Mama hadn’t been shopping, either. “What about a bagel?”

Poppy nodded.

“Butter or cream cheese?”

She shrugged.

“We have strawberry cream cheese,” I said, taking it out of the bottom drawer. “I bet you’ll like that.”

I left her alone in the kitchen to search the pantry. The shelves were nearly bare except for a box of Cheerios, instant rice, some sauces, a few cans of vegetables, and, yes! Bagels!

I returned to the kitchen with the bag of bagels in hand, but my celebration was short-lived. The grocery list I’d made was still stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet. I was going to have to go shopping after school, and I wasn’t sure how much money we had in the bank account.

Poppy was huddled on the stool, her knees to her chest.

The cream cheese opened with a pop, and once the bagels sprang up, I handed the first one to Poppy. She was humming to herself—the same song my music box played.

She inspected it for a few seconds before stuffing it in her mouth. The cream cheese melted around her lips, leaving a pink, sticky residue. I turned to toast my bagel. “Is it just you and your dad? Will he want breakfast?” I asked.

She shook her head. “He’s gone.”

I added cream cheese to my bagel and took a bite, watching Poppy annihilate hers in record time. “Did you eat dinner last night?”

“I think so.”

“What noises?”

“Huh?” she asked, her mouth full.

“You said you didn’t sleep because of noises. I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was beneath,” she said.

I finished my food, and the drawer next to the sink squeaked when I pulled it open to retrieve a dishrag. I held it under the faucet, then wiped the mess from Poppy’s face. She let me do it as she’d done dozens of times before.

“Beneath what? Your bed?”

She grimaced, twisting at her nightgown.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll double-check your bed tonight.”

She nodded again, leaning her head against my chest. I hugged her to me and then popped into the hall to rummage through the chest for coloring books and crayons.

“Look, Poppy,” I said, holding up the book and small box.

“You just missed her,” Althea said, cleaning up the breakfast dishes. “That girl is a world-class sneak.”

The straps of my bag dug into my shoulders when I slid my arms through. “Good morning.”