Page 55 of Ruthless Possession
I press my shoulder against the doorframe and stay there.
"And this is Prince Braveheart." Charlie hands him a bear wearing a lopsided paper crown she must have made herself at some point. "He protects everyone."
Matthew sets the bear on his knee like it belongs there.
"You need to tell Princess Sparklehoof about the dragon," Charlie instructs, nudging a green dinosaur toward him with her foot.
Matthew picks it up and has it swoop through the air in a slow arc. "Ah, the dragon." He drops his voice like he's sharing a secret. "He's actually quite misunderstood, you know. Just wants friends."
Charlie giggles. The sound is sudden and bright and completely unguarded, and it hits me somewhere behind the sternum.
"Dragons can't have friends. They breathe fire!"
"Maybe that's why he's lonely." Matthew swoops the dinosaur again. "Everyone's afraid of his fire."
I push the door open and step inside. "Playing dragon rescue?"
"Ms. Morgan!" Charlie abandons the animal kingdom entirely and grabs my hand, towing me toward the middle of the floor. "Mr. Matthew is my new best friend. He plays dolls better than anyone!"
I catch Matthew's eye over her head. He's trying not to look too pleased with himself and failing.
"The princess here has quite an imagination," he says, holding up the pink unicorn with mock solemnity. "We've been negotiating a peace treaty with the dragon kingdom."
Charlie drops down between us, cross-legged, and picks up the green dinosaur. Her posture shifts, suddenly businesslike. "I want a story before bed. Mr. Matthew said you both have lots of adventures."
I sit on the floor and tuck my legs underneath me. The carpet is soft. Someone, probably Matthew, has already put down the small rug we bought for this room. "We do. But they're not all princess stories."
"Tell me about the time you got lost in the forest." Charlie's eyes go wide. "Mr. Matthew said it's a really good story."
Matthew shoots me a look that's about forty percent apology and sixty percent amusement.
"That was a long time ago," I say. "When we were kids."
"Please?" The lower lip comes out. Fully deployed.
There's no recovering from that. "Okay. But it's not all happy parts."
Charlie arranges her stuffed animals in a semicircle like they need to hear this too. "That's okay. Stories need scary parts."
I start talking. I watch her face as I describe the summer Matthew and I wandered too far from the campsite, following tracks we were convinced belonged to someone. The way the sky had gone the color of a bruise before we realized how far we'd gone. The trees closing in.
Charlie's fingers tighten around her unicorn. "What did you do?"
"Found shelter under a big rock. Sang songs until the storm passed."
"Did you sing the princess song?"
"Camp songs, actually." I pause. "But we could learn some princess songs if you want."
Her face lights up. "I know lots."
What follows is not what I could have predicted this morning. We cycle through three princess songs, two camp songs Matthew half remembers from somewhere, and a version of a lullaby that Charlie teaches us with the patience of someone who has been waiting a long time to.
By the time her eyes start going soft at the edges, we're somewhere in the middle of a fourth song, and she's leaning against Matthew's arm without seeming to notice she's doing it.
"One more story?" She yawns into the back of her hand.
"How about Mr. Matthew reads to you while I get your pajamas ready?" I say.
