Page 101 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“Well, for one thing, the person is obviously dead.”
“Claire!” Mary said slapping at her hand.
“He must be, in the poem at least he is.”
Intrigued, Peter asked her to explain.
“Well, the poem says, the person falls asleep then dreams of going to heaven, finds a beautiful flower there, and wakes up holding the flower.”
Peter, Dahlia, and Mary all nod.
“Can you not see?”
“Oh, tell us you arrogant, girl!” Mary laughed.
“The flower is in the person’s hand because he did wake but not in this world. He woke up in heaven. Because everyone knows that you cannot possibly take something from heaven, not when you are alive that is.”
The others sat in silence, pondering Claire’s insights.
“Why is it sad then? I should think to go to heaven would be a beautiful thing,” Dahlia argued.
“Because it obviously shows how much the person yearned for such a flower when he was alive but found not a one. I know this because isn’t heaven supposed to be where all your yearnings are granted?”
“Oh, Claire, it is remarkably clear now. Well done,” Mary said impressed.
Dahlia stared at Claire with surprise and quiet pride. She kissed the top of her head. Turning to the Mary, she kissed her as well.
“My sister, a philosopher. I did not see that coming,” Peter said smiling as well.
Claire smiled brilliantly.
“And everyone thought that Mary was the smart one.”
“I shall pull your hair for that!” Mary said, laughing and leaping at her sister as they had not done in a very long time.
With a shriek, Claire jumped up and ran towards Peter, seeking refuge.
“Peter, Peter help!”
She pulled her brother up and used him as a shield against Mary.
Laughing, Mary, Claire—and Peter, for he was being dragged about— ran around the room. At one point, Claire pulled at Peter’s other arm.
“You must side with me, Peter; I am the victim here!”
Laughing, Peter moved away from both his sisters.
“You cannot bait me; I remain the impartial brother.”
Mary and Claire both give him annoyed looks then quite suddenly raced for Dahlia.
Dahlia, realizing what was about to happen, leaped from the settee and ran away from the twins. They chased each other like children set loose in a meadow, laughing and giggling, quite out of breath.
And then it happened—Claire caught Mary and pulled at her hair, her coiffure disentangling. Claire’s shriek signaled the start of the real battle, the twins, still laughing, raced out of the sitting room and into a bigger fighting field.
“You’ll never win!” Claire’s voice echoed from outside.
“They shall wake up the entire castle,” Dahlia said still laughing, still out of breath.
