The Silver Lining

Chapter Five: Wrong Answer

A young girl ran to the kitchen smiling, her feet clumsily colliding as she made her way up the stairs. She was only eight years of age, and she hadn't quite grown accustomed to her newly acquired height. Her round face complemented her pigtails adorably, and her wide blue eyes held a youthful joy and fascination that was unmistakable. It was a product of this enlightening phase of life, all that she saw and began to understand was a discovery, with the same magnitude within her mind as that of an ancient undiscovered artifact to an avid historian. These precious years of life were everything.

"Hi Mommy!" She enthused, attacking her mothers waist, wrapping small, pudgy arms around the circumference of her mother's hips. The mother smiled, abandoning the oven and the utensils she held to hug her child loosely by the shoulders.

"Hello my little nightingale. How was school?" She asked in a gentle voice, the sound endearing and smooth, like honey.

"Good. I got a hundred on my spelling test." Offered the little girl joyfully.

Her mother beamed and kissed her on the forehead, the scent of vanilla and wild flowers engulfing her senses a token of approval. The comfort of a mother's touch was nothing short of indescribable, something that simply felt right, inherently assuaging.

Her mother began to prepare lunch and her daughter left to place her backpack in her room briefly. When she was satisfied, she washed her hands and patiently waited with her hands folded under the table. This particular afternoon her daughter was strangely pensive, not quite as rambunctious or talkative as she usually was. She was about to ask what was wrong when suddenly she spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Mommy?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes?" She replied without turning, reaching for a plate in the cupboard.

"Why don't I have a grandpa?" She asked, her voice genuinely curious, unaware of the gravity her simple request held.

Her mother froze, the plate suspended between her fingers falling as shock caused her to release her grip. A sharp shattering sound resounded through the kitchen as time seemed to stop for a short moment, causing them both to become unnaturally still and silent. When her mother managed to recollect herself, and she did so remarkably quickly, she retrieved another plate and placed her meal upon it. She ignored the hazardous shards of glass as she turned to her with a smooth and even expression and placed the plate in front of her, sighing as she gazed at her daughter's wary expression.

"You're grandfather..." She began before she corrected herself. "my father, died long before you were born." She explained, her serious face betraying nothing, transparently honest. But there was something about the way her lips curled downward, and her eyes narrowed angrily, that remained with the child. If that was so, wouldn't her mother be sad and not angry like she appeared to be now? If papa died the girl knew she would have been sad.

"I'm sorry Mommy." She said quietly, playing with her food. Her mother smiled slightly, the anger wearing off, replaced by the same kind expression the girl would grow to remember and cherish in years to come.

"That's alright. Now eat, and don't play with your food. Daddy will be home soon."

The girl smiled as her mother began to collect the sharp mess that littered the floor, but she decided she would do something for her mother after that day. She would never ask about her grandfather ever again.

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The severity of the ambush two days ago plagued me still, the suspicious nature of the thugs' attack continuously prodding at me. It simply did not correlate with their usual behavior. I knew for a fact that the individuals of this city's underbelly only gathered in numbers of three or fewer, to keep from arousing suspicion of law enforcement. The number of people that had attacked me that night was at least ten or greater. Unable to fall asleep with such an uncanny coincidence, I rose from the bed and prepared myself to find out.