𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

15 - Reunions.

“Claire?”

Her freckled nose sagged deeper into the furry plush of the stuffed toy and she recognized that other soothing voice; especially one that isn’t Elsa’s at all, the only one she was comfortable with, for now. Clad in her baby pink pajamas, the four-year-old languidly pushed the warm covers away and slipped on the cozy slippers resting underneath her bed and skipped over to the door—Gerda was just relieved the little girl allowed entry.

The woman in her late fifties adjusted the specs placed on the bridge of her nose and she flashed Claire a comforting smile, “May I come in, little miss?” she gently asked, entirely careful to not overstep with boundaries although she has practically stayed to work for this family for many years.

“Okay.”

The door opened further and so, Gerda reluctantly stepped a foot and another, glancing at the occupied, milky pink walls showcasing various frames consisting pictures of a certain mother and daughter trapped in bliss; adding the feeling of broken nostalgia to the old woman’s heart.

“Here’s your milk. You should always drink some before bed, it helps put you to sleep. But,” The glass was gingerly placed on the nightstand instead, “May I please talk to you for a while, if you don’t mind, little one?”

Claire pursed her lips and then nodded, her lucid blue orbs, swept in a sea of mild puffy red, nearly broke the head maid’s heart. Gerda quietly sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to her to ease the growing tension. The child settled down and couldn’t look at any other spot than her lap.

“How are you feeling?”

Claire shifted uncomfortably, clutching her sweaty palm, “I’m... I’m not okay.”

“May I ask why?”

Her tiny lips quivered. “I don’t have anyone anymore.”

Gerda raised a brow at this, “However so?”

“She’s not my real mama. But I don’t know my real one either. I don’t have a p-papa–” Tears sprouted at the corner of Claire’s eyes and she squinted, the puffy red of her eyes intensifying slightly, “I am only an abandoned baby found in the dumps.”

Gerda contemplated silently, that knowing the malicious devil probably now imprisoned many miles away, the girl must have been told the truth the wrong way with the noticeable use of crude vocabulary causing Claire to be terrified by the sudden jump of a cruel revelation in such a very wrong time.

Claire must have been traumatized.

“Don’t–d-don’t people throw trash away there? Am I trash?”

Gerda’s heart swelled immensely beneath her chest in pity, and she quickly brought the trembling girl in her arms, “Oh no, no, dear. You’re no trash, don’t ever think that please. If anyone has told you that you are, you shouldn’t believe them because they must be blind to not see how beautiful you are.”

“I’m not pretty.”

The old maid clicked her tongue and ran her eyes up and down at the four year old’s face, examining Claire’s flawless cheeks and the pale freckles at the center. Claire’s hair wasn’t as light as her mistress’s, since it was a few shades darker, but pushing the blood relations aside, Claire is a child who would look like Elsa’s biological offspring.

“You are, and I know so. In fact, you are the opposite of trash, little one,” Gerda seriously concurred, “You are the precious jewel your mama found, not by the dumps, by fate. Do you know why?”

Claire conceded, “N-no.”

“Listen closely. At that time when your mama found you, her own mama and papa died two years back,” Gerda’s eyes drifted away sadly to the pristine windows behind them, “Considering, your grandpa and grandma.”