The Truth Against the World by Sarah Jamila Stevenson Read Free Book Online Page A

Farther and farther. She turned and looked directly at me, pleadingly. Her eyes were dark little caves of sorrow.
    I jerked away in fear. Suddenly the little girl, the couple, the seashore were all gone. The woman with white hair stood before me, but not blurry this time. No, her features were clear, and it was Gee Gee, white hair hanging down long and brittle. The skin-crawling sensation of dread returned, all too familiar, and a black cancerous patch of mold spread over her dress, her limbs, her face, until she was no longer recognizable.

    I kicked away the covers, opening my eyes to bright morning light. It was Monday morning, and the sun was streaming through my flimsy curtains onto my bed, making me sweaty. The clock read 7:05 a.m., but I felt as though I’d hardly slept.
    I hurried out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot spray rinse the sweat off my body. Drying off afterward, I noticed Gee Gee’s lily-scented powder in a small cylindrical container on the edge of the sink. I pulled off the lid and a small cloud of powder drifted into the air. The flowery fragrance was sweet, almost cloying. That had been the smell of her house. Sweet and strong.
    Gee Gee was alone in the kitchen, and I slipped quietly into one of the blocky wooden chairs at the kitchen table.
    â€œGood morning, my dear.” She smiled, moving with slow and measured steps across the kitchen with a plate of hot muffins.
    â€œ Bore da ,” I answered, yawning.
    Gee Gee set down the muffins and sat down across the table from me, her eyes lingering on my face. “Didn’t you sleep well, cariad ?”
    Was it that obvious, again? “It was just a nightmare. A really vivid one,” I said. I couldn’t meet her gaze. “There was a little girl, and you and Great-Grandpa John were there with a baby, by the sea, and … ” I realized I didn’t want to tell her about the image in the mirror, the spreading darkness. I didn’t want her to think I couldn’t handle her illness. I didn’t want her worrying about me on top of everything. “I guess I still feel weird. I know it’s stupid.”
    Gee Gee sighed, her expression pensive. “Well, no. It isn’t stupid. You’re a Davies, through and through, and we Davies women … ” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “We’ve always been sensitive dreamers, you might say.”
    A sudden chill sent goose bumps up and down my arms. “It could just be stress,” I pointed out. I didn’t want to think about it being anything else.
    â€œMaybe,” Gee Gee said. She lowered her voice, speaking almost too quietly to hear. “But every single Davies woman has been … intuitive, somehow. Our dreams sometimes tell us things that our waking mind won’t. That’s true for everyone, you know. We’re just a little more in tune with it than most people.”
    There was a long pause. I took a muffin and turned it around and around in my hands, but suddenly I wasn’t hungry.
    â€œIt’s a blessing and a curse,” she finally said.
    I nodded, but I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure I could believe what she was telling me—about my dream, about “Davies women.” It seemed too out there. What if the cancer was affecting her mind now? How would I know?
    Then I thought of the dream again, the girl, all alone, and shivered. The baby had to be Grandpa William, but was the girl supposed to be me? I wanted to ask what it meant, but I felt paralyzed.
    Gee Gee reached across the table and gripped my hand tightly. “You listen to me, Olwen fach . It will be all right. When you feel afraid, remember … ” She trailed off, looking lost for a moment. “Remember this moment. That I’m here with you, holding your hand. You aren’t alone.”
    I wasn’t sure whether she was talking about my dream now or the whole situation. Cancer. Death. So many