Page 26 of Papa's Little Bride
Three o’clock can’t come soon enough.
“Since I just told you more about me, Papa, could youtell me more about you now?” She rests her head back on my shoulder, in a gesture so natural, it could have been the thousandth time she’s done it.
“Of course, little one. I’ll tell you anything you wish to know.”
I start with my family history, informing her that my grandfather was an original founder of Gerrardsville, back in the days when this part of the world was still utterlylawless in the aftermath of society’s collapse. I briefly tell her of my late parents, my sister, who moved to Marystown with her husband and children, and my late wife and son, who passed away five years
ago.When I speak of something sad in my past, she caresses and pats my arm, and I drink in her offered comfort like a man who was, until this moment, parched and dying of thirst.
The longer I talk to her, the more I feel as if I’m coming back to life. For years, I’d held the entire world at arm’s length. I’d loved my wife and son dearly, and rage consumed me after their untimely demise. Anger and heartache were my companions in the longest, darkest night I’ve ever known. And when I first helped Faith in the street and peered into her soulful blue eyes, that was themoment the sun peeked over the horizon, a brilliant dawn breaking through a pitch-black forest.
Her light has long past splintered through the thick, tall trees. It’s shining over the mountaintop and warming the once cold lands.
