What Slumbers Inside

Chapter 4

Two weeks later

Sunny's grandmother's home was an old Victorian farmhouse at the edge of town. The first floor was created with a circular flow from the foyer, in one direction there was the kitchen, the other was the living, a staircase in the center. A formal dining room connected the kitchen and living room on the other side with a study off of the dining room, there was a summer kitchen connected to the kitchen, lined with windows that served as a pantry stocked with all manner of home-canned goods in the winter month. A bathroom was off the kitchen that led to the study as well. There was also a mudroom off the kitchen that led outside to the back porch. There were storage and hiding places galore that Sunny would often hide herself away in and read or write for hours on end until she was hungry or needed to use the bathroom.

When the doorbell rang, Sunny burst from her latest hiding place, a concealed storage area between the kitchen and dining room, and rushed to answer it. Running and ripping through the living room, her grandmother yelled at her to slow down as the older woman scooped up her baby sister to place the infant into a wooden playpen for safety.

"Sorry," she blurted out as she slid through the doorway into the foyer. Failing to stop in time, she slipped on a braided rug and bounced off the heavy oak front door with a hard rattle and an oof of discomfort. The sound was easily heard by Mary in the kitchen, making dinner for their company.

"Jesus, Sunny," she called out. "Easy!"

"Sorry," she called out again. Through the high placed stained-glass pane, she couldn't see much of anything. Told to expect company for dinner that night, her mother had intentionally kept the identities of the dinner guests vague. Holding out on hope in heart, Sunny thought that it might be her father. The excitement was building as she flung the door open. In her mind she was already seeing her father standing on the other side wearing the olive drab uniform, bag slung over his shoulder, holding a stuffed animal ready to embrace his daughter. It was bitter disappointment to see Bobby standing in the enclosed porch holding a small bouquet of off-season flowers wrapped in the florist's tiger lily orange paper. Deflated, she exhaled and tried not to cry.

"Hi, Bobby," she said, frustration leaked in her voice.

"Hey," he replied. She propped open the screen door to allow him entry.

"So, you're our dinner guest tonight?" she asked as he stepped past. Shrugging casually, held the flowers out to her.

"Yeah. I mean, I guess," he said with a well-practiced shrug, trying to appear disinterested but looking more nervous. Sunny let go of the screen door, and it closed with a snap.

"That's cool," she said before quickly adding, "I guess." Reaching to the wooden door, she began to close it when a slightly familiar voice caught her ear.

"Hey," came the voice from the porch. That's when she noticed Kevin standing there behind the screen door holding a bottle of wine, waving at her. Groaning, she rolled her eyes, unable to contain the disappointment seeping into her every fiber.

"Hi, Sunshine." She snorted and clicked her tongue at him.

"It's Sunny. And, actually, Bobby," she looked at the boy standing next to her, "you can call me Sunny. You," she looked at Kevin, "don't call me anything." Kevin stood there, shifting the bottle between his hands, nodding, pursing his lips together in thought.

"Can I come in?" Sunny stared at him for a moment, taking the flowers from Bobby with a soft smile before her expression hardened.

"No." Slamming the door, she proceeded to lock it until she heard her mother yelling at her from the kitchen.