Chapter 4 The Beginning of a Problem

For a moment there were no other sounds in the room other than Emily's raspy sobs, and a soft whimper as she clasped her thin hands over her face. After listening to the painful sounds for a moment, Willy Wonka tucked his gold-topped cane under his elbow and slowly walked over to where the girl now cowered. He stood above her for a moment looking down, unsure of how she would react, then bent over and gathered Emily into his arms. Ignoring the feeble wails of protest, he carefully returned her to the bed. After she was on it, he leaned over her, placing both hands on her shoulders. By now, she was gasping from the sharp stabbing in her ankles and ribs caused by her violent leap off of the bed, and the subsequent trial of returning her to its safety. Willy removed one hand from its hold in order to take off his top hat, to seem less threatening, and gazed down into the violet eyes now swimming in tears of pain.

"See now why I asked you not to move?" He asked in a gentle voice. Emily nodded, the tears spilling over and making wet tracks down her cheeks. Willy smiled sympathetically and looked up as an oompa loompa appeared by the bed holding out a white handkerchief. With a nod, Willy Wonka took it and, leaning forward, he tenderly wiped the moisture away, and brushed back her hair. The forehead was still damp and hot. Willy Wonka looked down at the girl and smiled again. "Please, dear child, do not move again. I assure you I will not hurt you and none of us are about to let anyone else hurt you either."

At these assuring words, Emily nodded, taking a deep breath from the sharp stabbing pains from her shattered limbs. But the fear in her eyes didn't change.

"You are not convinced." The words came out as a statement, not as a question.

Emily nodded slightly, but her eyes were still scared. Those violet eyes. They fascinated Willy Wonka, partially because they were so rare, and partially because they had a particular way of glistening that was giving Willy Wonka an idea for a new rock candy. But he had no time for that now.

"Why are you still afraid, Emily?"

At the sound of her name, an expression of utter terror flitted across Emily's face. She tried to rise again, but Willy's firm gloved hands held her back.

"Now, now, let's not repeat that scene, shall we? Whatever is the matter, starshine?"

At those words, Emily began to cry. But the pain of her shattered ribs made her breath catch in her throat and she gasped out, "Crying hurts."

Willy brought his hands slowly up the sides of her neck until they rested on each side of her head. He brushed the tears away with his thumbs and said softly, "Then don't do it."

For a moment, Emily gazed up at him, into his blue eyes that sparkled at her. Tender eyes, as her mother would have said. The hands holding her were gentle, too. It was far more than she had been used to. The only hands she had known since her parent's death had been harsh and cruel. Maybe the strange reclusive chocolatier would understand her fears. As she gazed up at him, and he gazed down at her, it seemed to Emily that maybe she had found a friend. But the man from Dartsmouth had proposed to be a friend, too, promising to save her from her true father that was out there somewhere, and then had locked her up in his damp and cold basement, and had treated her shamefully when she had refused to go along with his plans. Plans to -

"What are you thinking about, starshine?" Willy asked suddenly, drawing her from her reverie. His head was on one side and his eyes bored into hers as he had notice the faraway look come over her. A faraway look combined with a slight tremor that ran through the thin frame.

"Can you read my mind?" Emily asked, misinterpreting the question and the intense gaze.

"No," The wiry chocolatier said softly. "But I was just wondering why you just shivered, as if you were remembering something you would like to forget?"

Another tear escaped her eyes, and it was quickly wiped away by Willy, but his eyes never left her face, as he searched for an answer to his question.

"I'm cold," she replied, hoping that answer would satisfy the intense stare in Willy Wonka's eyes.

He responded by snapping his fingers three times and at once a blanket was brought by a handy oompa loompa. Nodding his thanks, Willy stood and carefully shook out the blanket and gently laid it across her lower body, but did not tuck it in. He knew that fevers sometimes make one feel as if they were freezing, but in reality they are burning up. He was grateful for the medical books that he had read through the years. He didn't believe that Emily had shivered only from cold. There was something else.

"A little bit ago, you were mentioning someone had promised to protect you, Emily?" Willy lightly prodded, remembering the scene in the Wonkavator.

"He said he was a friend,too" she said softly. Somehow, as she looked back up at Willy Wonka, Emily could feel that she was slipping away. The room was getting smaller, and the air warmer. Willy Wonka before her began to fade. She felt him lean down closer, kind hands feeling her forehead, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. He smelled of chocolate, cherry, and something else that was sweet, though undescribable. But a question from him pierced through her thoughts and the gathering fog.

"Who, Emily? Who?"

And she could only force one more word out of her lips before it all faded away.

"Slugworth."