Page 2 of Sinful

“How about this?” Mom said, leaning forward. There was a tiny smile on her face, and her eyes were crinkled at the corners. “Because you’ve had a rough night, you can come downstairs and hang out with me for a whole hour, even though it’swaypast your bedtime. We can have some tea with honey. Maybe even a cookie or two.”

My eyes widened. “I can stay up late?”

“Yes.” She nodded, smile broadening. “Besides, it’s your birthday tomorrow, so we might as well have an early treat to celebrate the big eight. What do you say?”

“Yes!”

I leapt out of bed and raced down the stairs. Mom went into the kitchen to make the tea, and I busied myself on the living room floor with my Lego set.

“One tea with honey, coming up,” she said, stepping into the room with a tray a few minutes later. “With a special treat on the side.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I jumped up and perched on the couch as she placed the tray on the coffee table. “Did Dad talk to you yet? Is he coming?”

“I’ll check.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and glanced at it before shaking her head. “Nothing yet. But you know how busy he gets at the hospital.”

“Will he come in the morning?”

“Maybe. But it might just be the two of us,” she replied, sliding into the seat next to me. “I know he’s really hoping to join us for your special day, though.”

“I hope he can. I want to go hiking again.”

“We can still go together, even if he can’t make it. And we can get ice cream sundaes afterwards,” Mom replied. Her eyes glimmered, and she leaned forward. “By the way, I thought of something cool when I was making your tea. Do you want to know what it is?”

I sat up straight. “Yes.”

“Well, I know you really don’t like having bad dreams, but in some ancient cultures, dreams were considered to be a connection to a spirit realm. That made them very significant, and those who dreamed frequently and vividly were often considered to be shamans. It was a very important role. You play a shaman in that new computer game of yours, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “It’s fun.”

“Well, if you were born in a different time or place, you might have been arealshaman, because of all the dreams you have. Pretty cool, huh?” she said.

“Wow, really?”

“Yup.”

“That’s awesome!”

She winked. “I had a feeling it might make you feel better.”

She was right. I felt much better now. The monster from my nightmare seemed like it was a million miles away now, hiding from the light in its dirty cave. It couldn’t reach me anymore.

I munched on the cookie she’d left on my saucer. “I think I know why I keep dreaming of a cave when we come here,” I said, looking back up at her.

“Oh?”

“It’s because of something you told me a while ago. About those people you’ve been working with for your anthrofology stuff.”

“Anthropology, sweetie.” Mom gave me a tight smile and cocked her head. “What did I tell you?”

I took another quick bite and swallowed. “You said something about a cave that you wanted to look inside. Somewhere on their land.”

Her smile faded, and a flicker of worry crossed her face. “I… I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

Mom clasped her hands in her lap. “No, honey. You must be mistaken,” she said. “I was probably talking about another place I researched. Remember I told you about that desert I visited when I was still in college? There were caves there. Huge ones.”

I pouted. Why were adults so silly sometimes? They all knew they had worse memories than kids, but they’d still say theywere right and we were wrong, even when weknewwe were remembering things properly. It was so annoying.

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