Chapter Two #2
Sledge led me down a short hallway to a bedroom with lots of natural light.
The soft lavender walls told me he’d tried to make this space special for her despite his own lack of décor.
There was a small bed with a unicorn comforter, and shelves lined with books and toys.
A little girl sat cross-legged on a beanbag chair, clutching a stuffed rabbit that had seen better days.
She was tiny with delicate features, a tumble of blonde curls, and those same hazel eyes as her father. She looked up at me like I was an intruder. Fear and instant mistrust swam in her eyes.
“Zoya,” Sledge said in a much softer tone. His whole voice changed, it was lower, careful, and protective. “This is Eliana. She’s here to talk about helping out while Gina’s healing.”
Her grip on the rabbit tightened to a stranglehold. Still, she said nothing.
I crouched down to her level with a gentle smile. “Hey, Zoya. My name is Eliana.” I held out my hand, palm up. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She hesitated before reaching out, her small fingers brushing mine for a heartbeat before she pulled back. Progress.
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “I get nervous meeting new people too.”
Her eyes went wide as she studied me, not sure what to make of me. She wasn’t scared now, just curious.
I pointed to her rabbit. “And who’s your friend? He looks like a Floofy. Or maybe a Floppy, because of the ears?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. A ghost of a smile.
“Well, whatever his or her name is, they are adorable.” I whispered the words like it was a shared secret between us.
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t turn away and she didn’t cower behind her father, which I counted as a win.
I kept my voice soft and casual, talking without making her feel like she needed to join in.
“I love to draw and to paint, but I’m much better with pencils and crayons.
I like watching movies. I love to read and my favorite food of all time?
Tacos.” She gave me nothing, so I just smiled. “What do you like?”
Another silence met me, but it wasn’t quite as tense.
“She doesn’t talk to strangers,” Sledge grunted.
I smiled, my gaze still fixed on Zoya. “That’s okay, my mami tells me I talk enough to carry the conversation for five people,” I said. “Besides, I can ask questions, right? A girl can always change her mind if she sees fit. That’s the beauty of being a girl.” I winked. “Right?”
She gave me another smile and already this little girl had claimed a piece of my heart.
I pulled a sketchbook and pencils from my bag of goodies and flipped to a blank page. “Sometimes when I don’t feel like talking, I just draw. I’ve been doing that since I was about your age. It’s like a journal, but prettier.”
I sat cross-legged on the floor with my book on my lap before pulling out another one for her. I started to sketch, nothing in particular, just something to do while I talked to Zoya.
For a few long minutes, nothing happened. Then slowly, Zoya set her rabbit friend down and picked up the pencil.
My heart did a little dance, but I didn’t let it show.
And when she started moving the pencil across the pad, I kept talking about anything and nothing.
“I prefer sketches,” I said when she picked up the colored pencils.
“Because I’m not that great at picking out colors,” I confided.
“As you can see with my sweater, I’m inclined to use all the colors.
” I laughed, secretly excited that she kept drawing.
Fifteen minutes later, Zoya stopped and set the pad down before picking up her rabbit again.
I leaned over and studied the image. There were two rabbits in a field of grass with a stack of carrots in the distance. One of the rabbits wore a tag, identifying him—or her. “Hoppy,” I guessed based on the tag.
Zoya nodded, a small smile flickered to life.
“I guess I was pretty close. You’re very good, Zoya. You must be some kind of secret artist.”
Her smile brightened and I felt ten feet tall.
“You start tomorrow at seven.”
I looked over my shoulder at him, blinking in surprise at his abrupt interruption. “Seven in the morning. Not six forty-five?”
His lips pretended to twitch but Sledge was a man who wielded his self-control like a sword. “Seven sharp, Ms. Moreno. Don’t be late.”
I got to my feet and held out the sketchpad to Zoya. “Do you want to keep it? Maybe we can find a place for it on your walls?”
Zoya shook her head and pointed at me.
“You want me to keep it?” She nodded. “May I have the artist’s signature?” I asked, handing her a hot pink pencil.
She scribbled on the bottom of the drawing and took a step back.
“Thanks, Zoya. I’ll treasure it,” I told her before turning to her father. “I won’t be late. And my name is Eliana.”
He stared at me, nodding once.
“See you in the morning, Zoya.”
She waved and returned to the book beside the beanbag chair.
Sledge walked me to the door without another word, which was about what I expected.
I stepped outside as sunshine washed over me, and I smiled.
The father was intense, intimidating, and frustrating as hell, but his daughter was quiet, vulnerable, smart, and worth dealing with her surly dad.
I wondered where her mom was. There didn’t seem to be any evidence of a woman in Sledge’s life. But I guess that was a question for another day.