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Polly finds her hidden, curled up into a nook that many people don’t even know exists. Lizzie looks thin, she thinks now, delicate. She always did but there’s something about the way Lizzie sinks deeper into the nook that makes her sure the girl yearns for tenderness.
“Come here, Lizzie…”
She curls into the nook herself, opposite the girl. The woman. She reminds herself of that sharply. Lizzie is a young woman, sweet and shy sometimes, but whip-smart and brittle in ways that are well hidden.
Lizzie hesitates, then, when Polly beckons, crawls across the nook to settle into her side, curling into her arms with a near purr of satisfaction. Polly smiles then, letting her fingers trail through soft hair and turns to kiss the girl’s cheek.
“There’s my girl…”
“I wish I was.”
Lizzie speaks so softly that Polly almost misses it, her hand pausing in the girl’s hair as she looks at her, then she smiles, leaning to kiss Lizzie so softly it’s almost a whisper of a kiss.
“You are, Lizzie darlin’, my girl… not his, not theirs… mine.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, love… Promise.”
Polly knows she’ll have a fight on her hands tomorrow, but for tonight, for tonight she can treasure her sweet girl.