Page 96 of Unstable

But for her, I’m already inside. Breathing and heart rate both normal.

“Hey there,” I say softly as to not startle her since her back is to me. She’s busy, thoroughly examining the bulletin board on the wall…and everything displayed on it. “Your mom said it was okay for me to come find you. Everyone’s wondering where you went.”

“Is that you?” she asks, pointing to one of the pictures pinned to the board.

“Yes,” I reply evenly, tempering the pain suddenly trying to burn its way up my throat.

“Then who’s that?” She now points to Hadley, standing beside me in the photo. All decked out in her gown, the picture shot at one of the rodeo pageants she loved to enter. Never my thing, but I always helped with her hair and make-up and clapped for her the loudest. And when she’d win, I’d proudly cry…every single time.

I jolt back to the present, having kept Brooke waiting too long for a response. Not only because I got distracted with memories, but more so…I don’t have a lot, or any, experience with kids, so I’m unsure exactly what to say to her on the matter. I’m still silently debating appropriate wording for someone so young when she saves me the trouble.

“It’s your twin sister, huh?”

“Uh…” I gulp loudly. “Yes. Right again. You’re a very bright girl, Brooke. How old are you?” I change the subject, but am genuinely interested in the answer.

“Six, almost seven. But I’m smart as a whip, that’s what all my teachers say. I get to go to the fourth grade class for reading and math.”

She turns around to face me now, trying to smile, but unable to hide the sad wisdom in those huge eyes of hers. They’re every bit as expressive as her actual words.

“Your sister died, didn’t she? That’s why Mommy said you might act sad, right?”

Strangely enough, I appreciate her bluntness. Imagine that, finding comfort in a candid conversation with a six-year-old. Beats the hell out of pitying frowns and prescriptions.

“Yes, Brooke, she did. I had a twin sister named Hadley who I loved very much, but she went to Heaven a long time ago.” I almost add that she’s now joined by my mother there, but quickly decide that might be a bit much. “I miss her every day, and on some of those, it does make me sad. But on other days, it makes me happy when I think about all the fun times we had together.”

There–I’m pretty sure that answer was appropriate and catered gently enough.

“Are you ready to go eat?” My voice spikes with the hope she’ll say yes, thus ending me very carefully squirming my way through this inquisition.

“Almost.” She lifts her chin and plants one foot out front in an authoritative stance, which is absolutely adorable. “Henley, am I going to get to live here?”

There’s not a doubt in my mind – one day this child will make a real difference in the world. Probably in politics. Hell, I’d vote for her today…no matter for which office she was on the ballot.

“Um…I’m not sure yet sweetie. We should probably wait and talk to your parents about that. So let’s go join them. The sooner we do, the sooner you’ll find out the answer.” I wiggle my eyebrows to try and entice her.

“Well, if I do get to live here, can this be my room?”

Again, the correct answer here is “We have to discuss that with your parents.” I know it is, yet that’s not what I say.

“You sure this is the one you want? There’s another one downstairs you might like better.”

She’s already shaking her head, vibrant curls flopping in protest, before I’m done talking. “I’m very, very sure. This will be my room.”

“Why?” I ask immediately, somewhat desperately, unsure if I’m prepared for the meaningful answer I know she’ll give…and completely, permanently alter my outlook on life forever.

“Because,” she sighs dreamily and then, exceeds my expectations and shatters the last piece of armor that was still secretly guarding my heart, when she throws her arms out to the side and starts spinning in slow circles, “this room was meant for pretty, smart girls who can be tough on a farm and rodeo queens. Girls who have lots of pictures with their friends and blue ribbons. I can do that. I can be this room’s new super girl.”

I giggle, gasp, and wipe away a tear all at the same time, floored by her whimsical, unlimited soul and its power to heal mine. And then I laugh again because the thought crosses my mind—she’s a much younger, female version of Gatlin. Even at a mere six years old, everything she says means something. Something profound, beyond the boundaries of her earthly age.

“Brooke, I can’t say for sure what your parents will decide about anything, but I’ll tell you this. I couldn’t agree with you more. If anyone in the entire world belongs in this room, it’s you, precious girl. Now come on,” I hold out my hand, “let’s go eat. Maybe after that, I’ll show you the horses.”

“There’s horses?” she squeals.

“Yeah, three of them. You like horses?”

“I love them! Daddy said someday I could have one, as soon as he gets a better job. His boss is a cheap bastard.” She slaps a hand over her mouth and her eyes widen. “I’m not supposed to repeat that. Please don’t tell on me.”

“I won’t say a word, I promise.”

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