Page 1 of Golden Hour

1

Shiloh

“Today is going to be a great day.”

I smooth down my new Woody Finch polo shirt, turning to inspect myself in the mirror. The sound of rustling comes from outside my room. My grandpa must be up. Showtime.

I leave my room quietly and sneak down the short hall to see Papa stationed and comfy in his trusty recliner.

Once I’m in view of the living room, I fan my hands out like I’m Judy Garland and kick. Got to give him the razzle-dazzle.

He hides a smile as he takes a sip of coffee. The book I lent him sits in his lap, so he closes it and puts it to the side. He’s humoring me and reading a thriller, my favorite genre.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Entertaining you,” I say, flailing my feet to tap dance. We live on the bottom floor, thankfully, because my tap dancing sounds like stomping.

“Girlie, you are too much.” He points to the kitchen. “There’s some coffee left.”

“You’re too good to me.”

I kiss him on the cheek and scamper to find my favorite tumbler, a shiny mint one, and pour in my favorite creamer and then fill it to the brim with coffee. It’s the perfect color, my preferred ratio of creamer to coffee reached.

The first sip is heavenly.

“There’s also some muffins,” he says.

“Ooh, did you bake?”

My grandpa has never baked a day in his life. “Hell no. Costco. Those double chocolate muffins. Before you give me a hard time, I only allow myself half. I saved the other half for you.”

“Yum, thanks, Papa.” I find the other half, a knife resting on the crumbly wrapper. My grandpa doesn’t eat the best, and his stroke earlier this year indicates we need to do better. However, my stomach churns with nerves right now, so that conversation is best for later.

Besides, those muffins are delicious.

“Who took you to Costco?” I pop a bite in my mouth. Chocolate explosions are always the best way to start a day.

“No one.” My grandpa just shed sixty years with how red his cheeks are.

“What’s her name?” I tease.

“Are you getting used to the bed?”

I guess we’ll add “my papa’s lady friend” to the list of conversations to have later.

“Yes,” I say with a smile although a spring in the hideaway bed is bound and determined to kill me. “I had the strangest dream last night.”

“Clowns get you again? I couldn’t shake Bozo for five years.”

I shake my head. “The dream was very calming. A woman was trying to show me something. A man, I think.” I pop another bite of muffin and shrug. “Could mean nothing.”

“Dreams are like that. Mean nothing or something.” He goes back to reading his hardcover, and I sip my coffee. Images from my dream float back to me. We’re at Tin Lake, I think, the sun setting and reflecting against the water, creating shards of light. The woman points across the beach at a sitting man, with no face.

“You ready for your first day, girlie?”

“Yes. I can already tell it will be a great day.” I take another bite and swallow. “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Pete is coming over to watch the baseball game, and then we’re going to the lake, I think.”

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