Chapter 4 - Awakening on Silk
When Anna woke up, she thought she was in heaven.
The ceiling above her wasn't stained with brown water spots like the ceiling in their tenement room. It was high, painted with pale clouds and golden cherubs, illuminated by a chandelier that sparkled like diamonds. The bed beneath her wasn't a lumpy mattress stuffed with rags; it was softer than a cloud, wrapped in white silk sheets that smelled of lavender and clean linen.
She blinked rapidly, her head heavy, her throat no longer burning with fire.
“You’re awake.”
Anna turned her head sharply.
Sitting in a leather armchair beside the bed was the stern, rich man who had looked down at her through the rain. But tonight, he wasn't wearing a wet suit. He wore a simple black cashmere sweater, his sleeves rolled up, his graying hair slightly disheveled. He looked tired—older than he had in the car—but his eyes were remarkably soft.
Anna clutched the white blanket to her chest, her heart fluttering with sudden panic. “Where… where am I? Did the police take us?”
“No one is taking anyone anywhere,” Robert said gently, standing up and walking slowly toward the bed so as not to frighten her. He poured a glass of cool water from a crystal pitcher on the nightstand and held it out. “Can you sit up, Anna?”
She hesitated, then took the glass with both trembling hands, drinking greedily.
“Where is Grandma?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Is she… did she go away?”
“Grandma Rose is safe,” Robert said, pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting down. “She’s in a warm hospital room right now, getting the best medicine money can buy. The doctors say she’s going to be just fine.”
Anna stared at him, her amber eyes wide with disbelief. “You helped her? But the guard said…”
“The guard is no longer employed here,” Robert interrupted smoothly. “And I am sorry. For the guard, for the gate, and for the fact that you had to sit out in that cold rain.”
Anna looked down at her hands, turning the crystal glass over. “I said your name. I saw your picture on the silver frame in Grandma’s trunk before she got too sick to talk about the past. She said your name was Robert. She said you were our family, even if you didn't know us.”
Robert felt a heavy knot form in his throat. He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently covering her small, thin fingers.
“I know who you are now, Anna,” Robert said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re my niece. And you and your grandmother are never, ever going back to that place.”
Anna looked up, a tentative, hopeful smile breaking through her pale face. “Does that mean… we get to stay here?”
“This is your home now,” Robert said firmly. “Every room in this house. Every window. Every blanket.”
He stood up, walked to the mahogany desk across the room, and picked up a small silver-framed photograph—the only picture of Clara he kept out in the open, hidden away in his private study. He brought it back to the bed and placed it gently on Anna’s nightstand, right beside her water glass.
Anna looked at the photo, then up at Robert.
May you like
“She looks like you,” Anna whispered.
“No, sweetheart,” Robert said, smiling softly as he brushed a dark curl from her forehead. “She looks like you.”
