Page 71 of Free to Dream
I’ve almost told her the man who she thinks is her father is still in prison.
I know the address of the building where she was once kept.
I know of all the Freemans. Emily is the only one who kept her real name.
How do I tell her I know all of this without shattering what we’re building?
Every night, she curls into my arms and I keep her nightmares away.
What if I’m setting her up for new ones?
25
Cassidy
I’m lying in bed, pressed up against Caleb’s chest when Morpheus decides to pay me a visit instead of one of his wicked brothers.
I walk silently across the grass. My dress is white, with a delicate lace over it that skims past my knees. There’s some invisible pull guiding me toward the gazebo in the distance when I hear voices and laughter, and when I turn to hear the sound, I stop in delight.
A red balloon appears and floats upward toward the bluest of blue skies.
Chubby little hands grab for the balloon.
The determination of the little girl is evident. This time it won’t get away. Her dark curls bounce around her head as she reaches and stretches.
I can’t see her face.
A woman with long, dark hair is standing next to a man holding a camera. A man taking pictures of this adorable child. I’ve come across a family photo shoot. I pause, marveling at the child’s blooming beauty.
The woman, sensing they’re no longer alone, turns and smiles at me. It’s brilliant, welcoming. Then, I watch as it fades into sadness.
I’ve can’t place her, but she’s so familiar. I just wish I could erase her sadness.
I smile back, content to just observe. I come back so often to this park and to this beautiful family, enjoying their happiness in each other.
The woman is talking to the photographer as she captures the balloon before it flies away. I watch as she ties it around the little girl’s wrist, gives her a kiss on her face and strokes the side of her cheek before stepping away.
The love she holds in her heart for her child is undeniable. Visible. I can feel it, a mother’s love.
I can’t move. I’m watching the little girl with wonder as she bounces her balloon up and down a few times. She’s laughing as it hits her in the face once.
She giggles. The sound echoes in my heart.
Small arms wrap around the little girl from behind. It’s a little boy. I imagine he’s promising to tell her stories of fairy tales of princes rescuing princesses when they get home.
I bask in the love emanating from the scene that has unfolded in front of me. It’s like the warmest rays of the sun kissing along your skin after you step out from a damp room, heating any chill in your bones from within.
I can’t help but envy the people in front of me.
The woman’s face morphs and her expression changes to despair. Tears cascade down her cheeks. She turns away from the photographer and stares directly at me.
She walks up to me and I can’t catch my breath. Suddenly, her hand lifts to my face, trying to brush away my tears.
I don’t even realize I’m crying.
Suddenly, I hear my name.
Cassidy.
