What the Heart Wants (Sequel to Pixie Dust Never Lies)

Chapter 9

Emma held the dreamcatcher in front of herself, concentrating on what she wanted to see. Still sitting behind her, I rested my chin on her shoulder so I could see what was happening. For a moment nothing happened. I wondered if we had done something wrong. Suddenly the threads began to glow , and then the entire circle started to fill with a gold aura that spun slowly clockwise. Finally, after a couple of seconds, an image began to appear.

"Look, Emma!" I whispered. She raised her head to gaze into the circle, and an involuntary smile spread across both of our faces; she had done it.

When the picture cleared we saw an image of a little girl, no more than 8 years old, dancing in a field of wildflowers and singing a wordless tune. She had warm brunette hair, with the smallest hint of red, and a face that was all too familiar to me.

"Mother?" I breathed. I could hardly recognize her, but it was most certainly her. I couldn't believe that a person like her could have ever been so innocent and full of joy.

The memory continued.

"Cora!" A woman called from the distance.

The young girl stopped singing and looked behind her. "Yes, mother?"

"It's time for supper! Come in and get yourself washed up!"

Cora leapt at the thought of food and started running towards the house. Before she got too far she stopped, deliberated, and grabbed a handful of purple flowers. She then continued running to the house. It wasn't a very large house; it looked more like a couple of shacks pressed up against each other; but to Cora it was a castle. She bounded up the steps to the doorway, where her mother was waiting.

"For you!" Cora said, eagerly holding the flowers out to her mother.

"Why, Cora! They're beautiful!" she exclaimed. She knelt down and hugged her daughter tightly with her other arm. "Thank you!"

Cora beamed, pleased at making her mother smile. She followed her mother into the kitchen where she had started to wash a head of cabbage.

"Now go wash up for supper!" her mother urged. "Your father will be home any second!"

"What's that I hear?" A deep voice said from the doorway.

Cora gasped. "Daddy!" she shouted, and sprinted to where he stood. At the sight of his daughter racing towards him he took the bag off his shoulder and, with one arm, scooped the child up and swung her around. Cora squealed with laughter.

"Daddy!" She protested, still giggling.

"Alright, now, that's enough," her mother warned, laughing. "Someone could get hurt, or break something."

"You 'eard 'er, lassie. Go 'n wash up so we can 'ave some supper, eh?"

The little girl nodded and dashed for the water bucket as soon as her feet touched the ground. She could still hear her parents in the kitchen.

"She's just a big ball of energy, isn't she?" her mother said.

"Aye: a strong lass with fire in 'er 'eart," her father replied. "She'll need that if she's gonna make it in this world."

The picture faded out, colors swirling in the center of the circle, until a new scene formed.

Cora held her father's hand, crying bitterly. She felt his own hand shaking, though he had finished crying days ago.
She seemed to be about ten years old now. Only two years had passed, but in this moment all of the joy and laughter had seemingly disappeared.
They stood together, staring at the pile of rocks at their feet and the makeshift cross staked to the ground.