Whispered Prayers of a Girl Read online

  “Thanks,” she says.

  She grabs some mugs from the cabinet as I remove the pan from the burner and set it on a cool one. She watches as I finish making the hot chocolate. Neither of us say anything. Normally the silence would be uncomfortable, but right now, it’s not. I like having her by me. It doesn’t feel like she’s invading my space, just that she’s sharing it with me.

  A wave of vanilla hits my nose. It’s subtle, but sweet. A strange feeling, one I haven’t felt in a long time, has my stomach dipping. I frown, not entirely sure I like the new feeling. It’s leaving me off-kilter. I don’t like not being in control.

  Daniel, as expected, bounds up to the bar, Kelsey walking placidly behind him. It hurts something deep inside me every time I look at her and see the unhidden anguish in her eyes. I feel for this girl because I go through the same pain every day.

  The kids sit at the bar and enjoy their hot drinks while Gwen and I stand by and watch. Daniel chatters nonstop about the horses he saw. The pure joy on his face as he talks animatedly makes my heart hurt a little less.

  My eyes stray to Gwen every few seconds, watching, but hoping she doesn’t catch me. She’s looking at her son with a smile on her face, genuinely enjoying his energetic rambling. When Daniel mentions coming back once the weather is warmer so he can ride a horse, her eyes stray to me for a moment before going back to him. “We’ll see.”

  Deep down inside a place that’s been dormant for years, I hope she does decide to come back. I want to be around these people more. They distract me from my own pain. Not that I’m glad they carry pain, but it reminds me that I’m not alone in the world. There are others out there suffering just as much. In less than two days, this small family has helped quiet the screams in my head, something no one has been able to do. Of course, that might be because I haven’t let anyone close enough to really try. My family has been there for me, but they suffer from their own grief.

  My eyes travel to Kelsey to find her looking at me. Her eyes look so sad, and when she notices I’ve caught her stare, she looks away. It knocks me in the chest every time I look at her. I want to take away her pain. A child her age should never look the way she does, like her life is over.

  Once the kids are done with their hot chocolate, Gwen tells Daniel it’s time to shower. He ambles off, while Kelsey goes back to the living room where her notebook is on the couch. Gwen goes to the laundry room to fold the few pieces of clothes she washed. She offered to wash mine earlier along with hers, but I declined. I know she’s only trying to help because her and her kids are staying here a few days, but I’ve told her several times, there’s no need. She insists on cooking though. I didn’t argue. I may know how to cook but it’s been a long time since I’ve had someone do it for me. And as much as I thought it would freak me out having another woman here doing something such as cooking, it hasn’t. That doesn’t mean it won’t later. I keep waiting for the nerves to hit, but so far, they haven’t.

  I leave the kitchen and go to the living room. Kelsey’s on one end of the couch, drawing pad in her lap, so I take the other end. I grab the remote from the coffee table and switch the TV on, but keep the volume low. I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep my head forward. We stay like this for a while, me seemingly ignoring her, and her looking at me out the corner of her eye every so often.

  Keeping my eyes on the TV, I ask, “Do you like cartoons?”

  I’m met with silence, which doesn’t surprise me. However, she does turn her head my way. I turn to face her as well. Her eyes are still blank, but underneath the emptiness, I see something lurking. Something that tells me she wants to let go so badly and be part of the world again, but is afraid to.

  “What are you drawing?” I ask, then look down at the drawing pad. Her hand is covering part of the paper, so I can’t see it all, but it looks to be a dream catcher.

  She follows my eyes down to the pad, looks back at me, then surprises me by handing it over. Her eyes hold uncertainty as I grab the pad and hold it up to take a look. I was right, it’s a dream catcher, but this one’s unique. It has the usual webbing in the middle where the dreams are said to fly through, and the feathers falling from the bottom, but there’s also an added feature. Dripping from the webbing and falling alongside the feathers are drops of some kind of liquid. Most would probably think raindrops, but my bet is on tears. The picture is stunningly beautiful but also very devastating. It shows her pain.

  “This is beautiful,” I say, and hand it back to her.

  For a second, her eyes reflect light instead of complete darkness, and it makes me feel ten fucking feet tall that my compliment pleased her.

  Hearing a noise behind us, I look over the back of the couch and see Gwen standing at the bar watching us. Her eyes look glassy and her hand is covering her mouth. Her eyes flick back and forth between me and Kelsey before they settle on me. Her hand falls away and she’s wearing a smile. I tip one side of my mouth up then face forward again, glad I could bring a smile to Gwen’s face and some form of pleasure to Kelsey.

  Later that evening after everyone has gone to bed, I’m lying on my back on the couch with a notepad in hand, working on something, when I hear murmurs coming from the hallway. I turn my head to try to listen better. The murmurs stop, but then start back up again a minute later.

  I set my notepad down on the coffee table and get up from the couch. Unsure of what’s going on and not wanting to wake anyone that might be asleep, I walk down the hall silently. The murmurs get louder the closer I get to the half-open door. I stop just out of view and listen, not being nosy, but making sure everything is okay.

  The softly spoken words nearly bring me to my knees.

  “Please, God, just let my daddy come home,” Kelsey’s tearful voice whispers. “And please tell him I’m sorry. I miss him so much. I just want to hug him again and tell him I love him.” Her voice is lower when she finishes. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Hearing those words whispered in such an agonizing way damn near suffocates me. It’s hard to pull in air because the weight on my chest is so heavy. I don’t get emotional. I’ve cried once as an adult, but right now, this eight-year old’s excruciating words have tears springing to my eyes. The need to rush in there and take her in my arms is almost overwhelming. Only knowing it’s not my place keeps me on this side of the door.

  Kelsey’s quiet after that. No more words are whispered. Obviously, Gwen’s asleep and didn’t hear her, because I know I would have heard her consoling her daughter, if not crying along with her.

  With one last look at the door and my heart heavy, I walk away and go back to the couch. I spend the next couple hours finishing up the project I was working on, determined to get it done quickly, then set it aside. It takes me a long time to drift off to sleep, and when I finally manage to, it’s a restless sleep filled with the whispered prayers of a broken girl.

  Chapter 7

  Gwendolyn

  I walk down the hallway, rubbing sleep from my eyes, when I hear Daniel laughing. When I awoke a few minutes ago, I was alone in the bed. For a split second, panic had me scrambling to get the covers off to search for them, but then I realized where I was. I may not know Alexander, but the way he’s been with the kids the last couple of days, he seems like a good guy. That may be naïve of me, but I like to think my instincts are good.

  As I walk by one of the living room windows, I see a thick layer of snow falling. The thought of the snow not letting up, forcing us to stay longer, doesn’t fill me with the dread you’d think it would. It does the opposite, in fact. I want to be here longer. I feel comfortable here. I like being near Alexander.

  I spot Daniel and Kelsey at the bar, while Alexander leans back against the counter watching them, a small smile playing on his lips. The man is already striking, despite his scars, but when he smiles, it almost knocks the breath out of me. When he laughed yesterday at Daniel’s comment about Alexander’s hot chocolate being better than mine, all I could do was stare. It was t
he first time I’d seen him smile or laugh and the look on his face was nothing but beautiful. It sent butterflies to my stomach. The surprise on his face when he realized he was laughing said he’s not used to doing it.

  Daniel laughs again and it pulls me from my thoughts of Alexander’s beautiful face. He’s always been a happy boy, but I don’t remember him being quite this cheerful. For some reason, he’s taken an extra liking to Alexander. I wouldn’t have pegged Alexander as the type to willingly spend time with a boy Daniel’s age, but I’m glad he’s going out of his way to be nice to him.

  Will’s been gone for over two years now, and I know it’s time I open myself up to the possibility of dating again, to try to find someone that would be good to both me and my kids. Daniel needs a man in his life, and I don’t want to be alone forever. I know Will would want me to find someone else, to try to be happy again, to find a good man that could take on the father role that he can’t, but the thought of dating terrifies me. Will was my high school sweetheart. He was my first for everything. I don’t know how to date.

  I walk into the kitchen and find out why Daniel was laughing. Gigi has her puppies on the floor trying to gently play with them, but all she’s managing to do is knock them off their feet and onto their backs.

  What has me surprised and my heart stopping in my chest is the almost-smile on Kelsey’s face as she watches momma dog and her puppies. It’s not touching her mouth, but it’s definitely there in her eyes. I see more animation on her face than I’ve seen in years. I think Alexander plays a big role in that too. Her interest in him is unmistakable. Last night, the look on her face when he said her drawing was beautiful had me wanting to burst into tears. Thankfully, I managed to hold them back. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous Alexander’s gotten more of a reaction out of Kelsey than I have in years, but seeing her eyes showing more than just lifelessness far outweighs the emotion.

  Alexander sees me approaching and whips around to stir something in a pot. I walk up beside him to find him cooking eggs and grits.

  “Need any help?” I ask, then grab a mug and fill it with the coffee that’s calling my name.

  “I got it,” he grunts.

  I look over at him and see a frown on his face. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  Guilt tightens my chest. It’s my fault he’s on the couch and not in his big comfortable bed.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I noticed the snow still coming down. Tonight, the kids and I will take the couch and chair so you can have your bed. I know it can’t be good for your back.”

  The glare he shoots me is sharp and says without words that my suggestion is ludicrous and pisses him off.

  I hold my hands up and grumble, “Fine,” and continue making my coffee.

  I make the kids a plate, and once again, we all eat in the kitchen with the kids at the bar and Alexander and I standing. Afterward, I do the dishes while Kelsey sits at the bar with her drawing pad and Alexander and Daniel go out and check on the horses.

  When I’m done, I walk around the bar beside Kelsey. She looks over at me, her eyes back to their previous empty state.

  “Can I see?” I ask, then hold my breath. She’s shown Alexander her drawing, now I hope she’ll show me. I won’t force the issue if she refuses, but it’ll hurt. As advised by her therapists, unless it’s for her well-being, I rarely push Kelsey into doing things, preferring to have her come to me on her own instead. I want her to want to show me, not make her. I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t want to share stuff with me. I think it’s more like she cares so little about anything she does that maybe she feels like no one else will.

  I want to cry tears of joy when she hands it over. I pray she doesn’t notice my hand shaking as I reach out and grab it. Forcing my eyes away from her, I look down at the drawing pad. My breath catches at what I see. It’s a whole bunch of differently designed sad faces. They’re simple in design, but hold so much meaning.

  Looking closer, I notice something else. Hidden amongst the sad faces are a few smiley faces. Overall, there have to be about thirty sad faces and only five smiley faces. I don’t know if I should cry or smile at the picture. On one hand, it’s obvious the dominant emotion Kelsey feels is sadness. On the other hand, knowing she feels glimpses of happiness lightens my heart and gives me hope. Kelsey never appears happy, or at least she never shows it, but it’s apparent there are times she does. I just wonder what happens during those times. What brings on those bursts of pleasure? I want to replicate them over and over and over again, so all she feels is that emotion.

  I hand her back the pad and scoot closer to her. She never pulls away from me when I show her affection, and she doesn’t now when I wrap my arm around her shoulders and bring her in for a hug. Her arms go around me, then tighten. I squeeze my eyes shut at the contact because it’s not common for her to put effort into hugs. I don’t know what’s happened recently, but there’ve been several changes in her, ones I pray will continue and grow.

  I pull back from her, but rest my forehead against hers. It’s amazing how she can watch me with emotionless eyes when my own emotions are running rampant.

  “I love you,” I tell her softly.

  Every time I say those words, I hope I get a reply back, but I never do, and today is no different. One day I will though. I refuse to believe anything other than that.

  Later that afternoon, I step out onto the porch while the kids eat lunch. Alexander’s been out here for hours, only coming in for about thirty minutes after he and Daniel were done with the horses before leaving again.

  Everything is white and covered in snow. It’s a beautiful sight. Surprisingly, the temperature isn’t blistering cold like you’d think it would be with all the snow. It’s deceptive, making one think it’s colder than what it actually is.

  I’m surprised to find Alexander sitting out on the porch with his feet crossed at the ankle and propped up on the railing. He looks relaxed as he writes something in a notebook. He looks up and watches me with an unreadable expression as I approach the vacant chair closest to the door.

  “Mind if I join you?” I ask in case he wants to be left alone.

  He flips the notebook over and lays it on his lap, then grunts in reply. I take that an acceptance and sit.

  I gaze out across the yard, mesmerized by the beauty of the place. With the snow covering everything, it looks like a snowy wonderland. It must be so peaceful living in a place like this. Cat’s Valley isn’t a large town with the hustle and bustle of cars, noise, and the awful smell of pollution, but there’s still a big difference between there and here. That’s another reason why Will and I wanted to buy land. We wanted the solitude of living away from everything as we raised our kids.

  My gaze skitters across the property and lands on the partially built structure, which I assume will be a house once it’s finished. All I can see are the bare walls, but it looks like it’s been there for a while.

  “What are you going to do with your cabin once you finish the house?” I ask, bringing my eyes to him.

  His looks over at the house for a brief second before looking back out at the yard.

  “Nothing,” he says, a strange note in his voice. “I’m tearing it down.”

  My eyes widen in disbelief. “But why? Why would you partially build a house only to tear it down again? I bet it would look beautiful once you finish it.”

  He’s quiet for so long that I think he’s not going to answer. I’m about ready to forget my question, once again overstepping boundaries, when he surprises me.

  “It was supposed to be for my wife and child.”

  His voice is so quiet, I barely make out the words. But I do, and the anguished way he utters them says a lot more than his actual words do. There’s obviously more to the story, and it’s apparent it’s a painful one. I want to ask him about it, but it’s not my place. I don’t need to worry, because he tells me on his own. />
  “They died four years ago.” He clears his throat when his voice cracks. “A drunk guy pulled out in front of us right before the bridge over Hallow’s Creek. I swerved to miss hitting him head-on and ended up rolling down the embankment and landing on the passenger side under the bridge.”

  My stomach bottoms out and it literally feels like my heart is hurting at the tormented tone in his voice. To lose a spouse is gut-wrenching and one of the most painful experiences a person can have. Losing a child is ten times worse. To lose both would be beyond excruciating, unbearable. I can’t imagine ever getting over something like that.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. The sentiment is so lax for what he went through, but it’s the only comfort I can give. There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

  He looks at me, his eyes holding a mountain of pain. “Thank you.”

  “That’s why you want to tear it down. Because it reminds you of them?”

  “Yes,” he answers. “That and there’s no need for it anymore. It’s only me, and I don’t need a house that size for just me.”

  “Maybe you’ll find someone else to share it with,” I suggest, then want to take back the words. It’s clear he’s still grieving for his deceased wife and child. To even suggest him finding someone new, even though it’s completely reasonably, is insensitive.

  His jaw tics, and I worry I’ve pissed him off. I tense and wait for him to tell me to go to hell, but it never comes. He turns his head my way, looks right at me, then says with conviction, “That’ll never happen.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean….” I trail off, not really knowing what I meant.

  His eyes lose some of the heat and he looks past me to the house. “It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, then brings his eyes back to me. “It was Clara’s dream. The plans for the house… they were all her ideas. I gave input here and there, but I let her have free rein.” He stops and rubs his hands down his face and looks away from me. “That house was supposed to be hers and our children’s, and I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.”