It was not a sweet slumber kind of night. As tired as I was, I still couldn’t sleep. I pulled on a robe and went downstairs for a book from the bookshelf in the living room. The book I chose was a mystery about a missing cat, which reminded me of the strange dream I’d had back at the creek, about a gray cat named Willow who’d said he or she was my familiar.
My bed was cold, so I left my robe on, but, even so, the sheets felt stiff, and no matter how I wiggled, even with a book in hand, I couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, I got up, tightened my robe, and moved to the easy chair in the room’s corner. There was a light beside it and a warm, fuzzy throw blanket. I managed to read a few pages of the book before thoughts about Willow disrupted me. I wondered if it was possible to have a cat in the house the boys and I were staying in. Would Mrs. Penn reject the idea of cat hair on the couch?
I was possibly in a kind of twilight sleep, the state where a person gets when they’re thinking about something and start to nod off, when I heard Carlo crying. Of course, I couldn’t ignore that. I tiptoed into the hall, then knocked softly at his door. I don’t think he heard me. His sobs were escalating.
“Can’t sleep, Sweetie?” I asked him.
“I miss my mommy,” he wailed even louder.
I sat down on the bed. “I know,” I said, as gently as I could. “What did you name your teddy?” I asked, pointing to the bear snuggled in his arms.
Carlo tears stopped a moment as he thought about that. “Doesn’t he already have a name?”
I shook my head, while smoothing down the blankets around his small body. “No, the person who loves him and shares secrets with him gets to name his teddy. Is that you?”
Carlo stared at me a moment. “I don’t know what to name him. I never had a bear before.”
“What’s your favorite name?”
“Shama,” he said, giving me a quivery smile.