I tossed off the covers and forced myself from bed.
I used the restroom, brushed my teeth, and took the small set of stairs that led down into the kitchen.
I was struck with the scents of a typical Sunday morning.
Coffee and biscuits and bacon.
A soft smile tugged at one side of my mouth as I stopped at the threshold at the landing and peered through the blaze of morning light that speared through the cozy room.
The kitchen filled with so much country warmth that it was impossible not to feel at home.
At peace.
My chest stretched tight as I gazed at my father at the stove where he was whipping up his specialty of eggs, bacon, and pancakes while he sang an old Spanish song under his breath.
Daisy was at the table, trying to sing along.
The only person missing was my mama.
My heart clutched, but I did my best to force it down and not to bring a dark cloud over the sweet scene playing out in front of me.
I edged forward and the old wood floors creaked beneath my bare feet. My father’s attention swept toward me, a grin splitting his face. “Ah, mi amor.”
Daisy’s head popped up, all too eager to parrot her papa. “Mi amor!”
Light laughter slipped passed my lips, and I edged farther into the kitchen, heading for my father and pushing onto my toes so I could press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning, Daddy.”
He eyed me, speculation lifting a single brow. “I hope you’re hungry?”
I had a feeling he wanted to ask a whole lot more questions than that one.
I nodded. “I am. It smells delicious.”
He grinned. The deep wrinkles around his eyes crinkled, making him look older than fifty-eight. The last few years had come on harder and harder.
“Good. Our Daisy here might have dumped in the whole box of pancake batter.” He tossed her a massive smile over his shoulder before he sent me a wink.
“I am starvin’ marvin’. We needed the whole big box,” she said, not bothering to look up as she focused on coloring in her book, her tongue poked out at the side as she concentrated.
My spirit lifted. Shivered and shook as I crossed the room. I leaned over the chair where she sat on her knees and planted a kiss on the top of her head, lingering as I inhaled, the child smelling like orange juice and bubblegum.
Sunshine.
A single ray of light cast into the darkness.
“Good morning, sweet girl. Were you good for Nana and Papa?”
“Mornin’, Mommy. I was the best, right, Papa?” she coaxed.
No doubt, she wouldn’t accept a different answer.
“Oh, yes. An angel,” he told her in his Spanish accent.
She nodded in fierce agreement. “See. An angel.”
Affection tightened my chest, and I gently ran my fingers through her black hair.
“Did you have all the fun last night at the party?” She tipped her head backward to look at me, her sweetness oozing out.
All the fun?
Not so much.
I cleared the roughness from my throat. “I did. I got to see my old friend and tell her congratulations.”
“’Cause she’s gettin’ married?”
“Yep, that’s right.”
I could almost see the lightbulb go off in her little mind, and her eyes went wide with excitement. “Is the weddin’ gonna be here in the special place? Can I go? Remember we got to go to Polly’s and I got to be the flowers girl and I was the prettiest princess in the whole world?”
Panic flashed across my flesh, and a stone of dread sank to the pit of my stomach.
God, what had I gotten myself into, agreeing to be a part of the ceremony? This was going to be a nightmare.
I pulled out a chair so I could sit down in front of her. Reaching out, I lovingly tipped up her chin, doin’ my best to keep the words from quivering. “I do remember, and you were the prettiest. But I’m not sure of the details yet on this one.”
“I sure hopes so! Love weddin’s…but only if there’s dancin’. Dancin’ is my favorite in the whole world. Except for horses. I like horses even better. I’m the best dancer, right?” she prattled on, her chubby cheeks puffed out and her pink cherub lips pursed in question.
Her dark hair was cut in a bob, though it naturally curled out at the shoulders, the child so pretty she looked like a missing piece of the porcelain seraphim collection my mama had inherited from her mother and now had displayed in a case in the formal living room.
“Ooo…ooo…” She raised her hand as if to volunteer. “Do you think I could be the flowers girl for this weddin’, too? I got my fancy new shoes. I could go gets ’em real fast.”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t tied up in a thousand knots.
I blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m sure they have already made plans. You might be getting out ahead of yourself.”
Way ahead of herself.
But that was Daisy’s way. Running into life head-on. No reservations. No fear.
“Pancakes are almost finished. Can you get the tray ready, Daisy Doolittle?” my father cut in.
“Oh, yes, Papa!” She scrambled down from her chair, ran across the kitchen, and pushed the step stool to the cupboard so she could reach the tray and dishes.
Interrogation forgotten.
I glanced at my father.
He sent me a wink.
Daddy to the rescue, as always.
He plated two pancakes and a small bit of scrambled eggs, and Daisy put the small container of syrup beside it, plus a knife and fork and a napkin.
“One more thing!” She hopped down and ran to her coloring book, ripping out the page and folding it in two. She climbed back onto her perch and placed it on the tray. “There. All ready.”
Pride shined from her dark eyes.
I kissed her forehead. “Perfect.”
I picked up the tray, and I glanced at my daddy. “I’ll take it to her.”
His expression faded to somberness. To that weary sadness that he fought to keep contained but would bleed out the second he let down his guard. “I’ll be up in a minute. I’m going to clean up a bit.”
I sent him a soft smile. “Okay. Take all the time you need.”
Daisy raced out the swinging door of the kitchen ahead of me, her little feet pounding on hardwood floors. She darted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and I followed along as quickly as I could.
She hit the top floor landing and burst through the bedroom door to the left, her little voice drifting down as I started up the stairs. “Nana, breakfast is served!” she sang as she banged inside. “You is gonna be so excited!”
I could barely make out the distorted, raspy voice mixed with Daisy’s boisterous shout, and my chest tightened and squeezed and panged with each step that I climbed.
I did my best to pin a smile onto my face when I rounded to the door, but I could feel it slipping when I looked inside and found my mama struggling to sit up against the headboard.
Her face ashen, as if she’d aged a thousand days in the last week, the cancer sucking the life right out of her body.
It took everything I had not to drop to my knees and weep.
“Violet,” she whispered when she saw me standing there, and even with the pain I could see written on her failing body, she smiled the most brilliant smile.
One wholly directed at me.