“What are you drawing, sweet pea?”
Then I flipped a pancake, glanced over, and saw her.
A woman with long dark hair and black clothes, standing right beside Laura. Dori had colored her carefully, the way she colors the people she cares about.
I smiled and leaned in.
“Is that you all grown up? Did you give yourself dark hair?”
Dori’s pencil stopped.
Dori had colored her carefully
I laughed. I really did.
“Or did you mix somebody up?”
“No.” She frowned at the page. Her voice got small. “I didn’t.”
I turned off the burner and crouched beside her chair. My knees complained, but I ignored them.
“Sweetheart, who is she?”
She glanced at the hallway, as if someone might be listening.
“Sweetheart, who is she?”
“Mommy asked me not to tell you about her.”
I didn’t want to squeeze an eight-year-old for an adult secret, but she was scaring me now.
