Poppy framed her face with her hands and batted her eyelashes in exaggeration.
I shook my head, fighting a real laugh this time. When my laugh had calmed, Poppy was still smiling at me. “Only you,” I said. Her smile softened. Inching down, I pulled the collar of her coat closer to her neck. “Only you could make me smile.”
Poppy closed her eyes, just for a moment. “Then that’s what I’ll be doing as much as I can.” She looked into my eyes. “I’ll make you smile.” She rose higher onto her toes, until our faces were almost touching. “And I’ll be determined.”
A bird chirped outside, and Poppy’s gaze drifted to the window. “We have to go if we want to catch it,” she urged, then stepped back, breaking our moment.
“Then let’s go,” I replied and, pulling on my boots, followed her. I picked up her bag and threw it over my shoulder; Poppy smiled to herself as I did.
I slid open the window. Poppy dashed to her bed. When she came back, she was holding a blanket in her hands. She glanced up at me. “It’s cold this early.”
“That coat won’t be warm enough?” I asked.
Poppy held the blanket to her chest. “This is for you.” She pointed to my t-shirt. “You’ll be cold in the grove.”
“You know I’m Norwegian, right?” I asked dryly.
Poppy nodded. “You’re a real life Viking.” She leaned in. “And between you and me, you’re really good on adventures, as predicted.”
I shook my head in amusement. She rested her hand on my arm.
“But, Rune?”
“Yes?”
“Even Vikings get cold.”
I nudged my head toward the open window. “Go on or we’ll miss the sun.”
Poppy slid through the window, still smiling, and I followed behind. The morning was cold, the wind stronger than the night before.
Poppy’s hair whipped at her face. Concerned that she was cold, and that it might make her sick, I reached for her arm and pulled her to face me. Poppy looked surprised, until I lifted her heavy hood and pulled it up over her head.
I tied the strings to secure it in place. Poppy watched me the whole time. My actions were slowed under her rapt attention. When the bow was tied, my hands stilled, and I looked deeply into her eyes.
“Rune,” she said after several strained seconds of silence. I tipped my chin, quietly waiting for her to continue. “I can still see your light. Beneath the anger, you’re still there.”
Her words made me step back in surprise. I glanced up at the sky. It was beginning to lighten. I walked forward. “You coming?”
Poppy sighed and rushed to catch up with me. I slipped my hands into my pockets as we made our way, in silence, to the grove. Poppy was looking all around her on the way. I tried to follow what she was seeing, but it only ever appeared to be birds or trees or grass swaying in the wind. I frowned, wondering what had her so transfixed. But this was Poppy, she’d always danced to her own drumbeat. She’d always seen more going on in the world than anyone else I knew.
She saw the light piercing the dark. She saw the good through the bad.
It was the only explanation I had for why she hadn’t told me to leave her alone. I knew she saw me as different, changed. Even if she hadn’t told me so, I would have seen it in the way she watched me. Her stare was guarded sometimes.
She would never have looked at me like that before.
When we entered the grove, I knew where we would sit. We walked to the biggest tree—our tree—and Poppy opened her backpack. She pulled out a blanket to sit on.
When she had laid it out, she gestured for me to sit. I did, resting my back against the wide tree trunk. Poppy sat in the center of the blanket and leaned back on her hands.
The wind seemed to have dropped. Untying the bow from the hood’s strings, she let the hood fall back, showing her face. Poppy’s attention turned to the brightening horizon, the sky now gray, with tints of red and orange pushing through.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my smokes and brought one to my mouth. I struck the lighter, lit the smoke and drew in a drag, feeling the instant it hit my lungs.
The smoke billowed around me as I exhaled slowly. I caught Poppy watching me closely. Resting an arm on my raised knee, I stared right back at her.
“You smoke.”
“Ja.”
“You don’t want to stop?” she asked. I could hear in her voice that this was a request. And I could see by the flicker of a smile on her lips that she knew I was onto her.
I shook my head. It calmed me. I wouldn’t be quitting anytime soon.
We sat in silence, until Poppy looked back at the rising dawn and asked, “Did you ever watch the sunrise in Oslo?”
I followed her gaze to the now-pink horizon. The stars were beginning to disappear in a fan of light.
“No.”
“Why not?” Poppy asked, shifting her body to face me.
I took another drag of my smoke and tipped my head back to exhale. I lowered my head and shrugged. “Never occurred to me.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.