Walt had always woken up early, but Rory was even more of an early bird.
It was not uncommon in the Longmire house for Rory to wake up her father. It was rarely on purpose; Walt would hear her stirring around, playing with her toys or reading a book and waiting for him to get up and start stirring. She was allowed to use the toaster, so she would sometimes make herself a frozen waffle or a pop-tart for breakfast. On more than one morning, she'd made her father breakfast too, something that made her feel like a big girl and put a smile on her face that Walt just couldn't resist.
It took a moment before Walt realized what it was that seemed off. The house was too quiet. He'd set his alarm for five, with plans to leave that morning by six. It was four fifty, so he decided to go ahead and climb out of bed. As always, he walked out to check on Rory first.
A feeling of dread slammed into Walt and nearly knocked him over. Something was wrong. Badly wrong. What exactly it was, he couldn't place, but...something. Walt headed to Rory's room, hoping to find her still in bed. Maybe she was sick, he thought, and they'd just have to put the trip on hold.
Rory wasn't in her bed, and Walt suddenly found it harder to breathe.
Before he panicked, Walt checked the rest of the cabin. Rory wasn't in the bathroom, the living room, or outside on the front porch. He walked the yard and called her name, going as far as yelling that if she didn't come back she would be in more trouble than she'd ever been in before. No matter how loud Walt shouted, Rory didn't come out.
"Baby, where are you?"
Rory was finally warm, but the knot in her stomach had only grown more painful. The sun was just beginning to come up, and she wondered if her daddy was awake and looking for her yet. She wondered if he was mad, thinking that she had left the house without telling him, which she was expressly forbidden to do. The woman, who had yet to tell Rory her name, was working on making food for breakfast. It all looked really good, and Rory was hungry, but she was afraid to eat any of it.
"Do you like oatmeal?"
Rory jumped. They'd been sitting in silence for a while, so the woman talking to her scared her. "What?"
"I asked if you like oatmeal."
The woman was nicer than she had been that morning. Rory was still afraid, but she realized she didn't have much of a choice other than to cooperate with her. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Oatmeal's really good for you, you know."
"Can we put a little honey in it?"
The woman turned, surprised at the request. It surprised Rory too, but she hadn't even really thought about it when she asked. It had been something her mommy used to do for her, and for the moment, she needed the extra comfort.
"You like honey in it?" The woman asked.
Rory nodded slowly. "Yes, please."
"Okay. Sure." The woman said. "Maybe I'll try that myself."
"It's really good."
Five minutes later, the table was set, and Rory had a bowl of oatmeal and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. She picked at the food and tried to think of what to do, but she was scared. She wondered if her daddy would be scared here and what he would do.
"Are you okay?"
The woman spoke again, startling Rory. "What?"
"Are you okay? You haven't touched your breakfast. You must be starving."
"I'm just…not feeling real good."
"At least eat some of your oatmeal. That'll settle your stomach." The woman said. She put down her orange juice glass and held out a hand towards Rory. "I know you're probably scared, sweetie. I'm not going to hurt you."
Rory couldn't help the little snort she let out.
"That was...unfortunate." The woman said.
She almost seemed to be sorry for hitting Rory, but Rory didn't believe that. If she'd learned one thing from her daddy, it was that bad guys can seem like they're sorry or that they care when they don't to make you believe that you were safe when you weren't. Sympathy, her daddy had called it. They wanted you to feel sympathy for them. But no matter what this woman did, or who she claimed to be, Rory wouldn't feel anything but hate and fear for her.
Rory tried not to think about what the woman had said to her earlier. How could her daddy not be her daddy? He'd always taken care of her, even when Mommy had been too sick to do it. She remembered the long days, before she'd started school, where Mommy had spent most of her time in bed. She let Rory stay with her, reading books or coloring or watching cartoons, and Rory had always loved those times. But when Mommy had started to get sick, really sick, Daddy had spent a lot more time at home than he had before. He was the one who started taking her to school in the morning, fixing breakfast for her, helping her by giving her a bath and brushing her teeth at night, all the things that Mommy had been too sick to do.
If that wasn't a daddy, what was?
Rory, too hungry to think about what she should do first, started to pick at her oatmeal. It was surprisingly good, and the woman had put honey in it just like Rory had asked her to. It didn't taste quite as good as Mommy's did, but it was close. Surprisingly, Rory ate all of her oatmeal and most of the rest of the food. It filled her belly and made her feel a little better. She was still scared, but a full belly helped her think better.
"There. That's better, huh?"
"What's your name?" Rory asked.
"I told you, sweetie. I'm your grandma."
"I mean, what should I call you?"
"Oh. Well, you said you'd seen a picture of your other grandma. What do you call her?"
"Nana Jessie."
"Well, if you want, I guess you can call me Nana Rachel. Does that work?"
Rory nodded. "Okay."
"What's your full name, honey? Is Rory a nickname?"
Rory knew she probably shouldn't tell Nana Rachel much about herself, but as long as they were talking Nana Rachel seemed to be friendly. "Aurora."
"Aurora. That's so pretty. Do you know how you got that name?"
"My da…" Rory started to tell the story, but remembered what had happened the last time she referred to Walt as her daddy. She frowned and looked away as Nana Rachel started to put the last dish in the sink.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I know you love Walt as your daddy, and for now, it's okay with me for you to call him by it. I'll tell you the truth about all that later. Did your daddy give you that name?"
Rory nodded. "He said it means dawn and I was born right when the sun was coming up."
"I see." Nana Rachel started to run the water in the sink to do the dishes. "How did you get the name Rory?"
"I couldn't say my name when I was a baby."
"That makes sense." Nana Rachel said. "Honey, you look tired. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll wake you when it's time for lunch."
"Could we talk about my daddy instead? You said you'd tell me the truth. What did you mean when you said he's not my daddy?"
"We're gonna save that for later. If you don't want to go to sleep, there's some books and things in there your real daddy used to read when he was your age."
Rory felt a surge of anger rush forth when Nana Rachel said her real daddy. Walt was her real daddy, and no one could tell her any different. She started to argue with Nana Rachel, but a quiet voice from a long time ago whispered in her ear. There's a time and a place for everything, Monkey. Part of growing up is figuring out when and where that place is. Her mommy had said that to her when she had gotten into a fight in kindergarten. The class bully, Tyler, had been picking on her for days. Rory, sick of it, had thrown a punch that put Tyler on the ground and landed her in trouble. Her mommy and daddy hadn't been too mad, but neither of them had been happy. Then, a week later, the right time came. Tyler had put his hands on Rory, knocking her down into the mud on the playground. An incensed Rory had gotten up from the mud, pushed Tyler down into the puddle with her, and wrestled around with him until the two of them had been broken up by their teacher. Scared she was in trouble again, Rory had sat in the principal's office listening to Mr. Norris tell her mommy what had happened. Rory kept her head down, saying nothing as Mommy picked her up and took her to the car. As soon as Rory had been buckled into her seat, Mommy picked up Rory's chin and asked her one question.
"Did he put his hands on you first?"
Rory nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Then that was the right time for a fight." Mommy said with a smile, instantly making Rory feel better. Daddy had agreed, and the incident had been put behind them.
"I need'a go potty first, please."
"Sure, honey. The bathroom's right there." Nana Rachel pointed down the hall. "Call me if you need help, okay?"
Rory bit back a sassy retort of I'm seven you know and padded down to the bathroom solemnly. She used the toilet and washed her hands, then walked into the bedroom that she was surprised to find had been prepared for her. The walls were painted her favorite color, purple, and there were a few pictures of Rory as a baby. She was shocked to find that her daddy was holding her in one of the pictures. She carefully took that one off the wall and stared at it hard. She'd thought that, with Nana Rachel's reaction to her wanting her daddy earlier, that she hated him. Rory fought back the tears trying to come back again. More than anything, she wanted Walt to walk through the door and scoop her up. She wanted to hear him call her Runt and tell her he loved her. She wanted to feel safe to let out those tears she wanted to cry.
Most of all, she wanted to go home.
She had begged Walt for this fishing trip for weeks, but now all she cared about was her own room, her own toys, her own clothes, her own bed. She wanted to see the pictures that Daddy had put up in her room after Mommy died. She remembered all of them and the stories behind them. The one of her at her first birthday party, dressed in a frilly pink dress and smearing cake all over Daddy's face. The one of her at her first day of school, holding Walt's hand tight as she went into her classroom. The one of Mommy kneeling down and placing an arm around her as Rory grinned from ear to ear. Rory wondered whether she'd ever be able to smile like that around her family again.
"Daddy, where are you?"
Rory listened as Nana Rachel continued to wash the dishes, and finally she decided to try and settle into the bed. She picked up one of the books on the bed and turned to the inside front page.
Property of Christopher Kalen
It's a clue, Rory thought to herself. Her daddy solved crimes sometimes and he relied on clues. Taking her from daddy had definitely been a crime, so Rory could use this clue to try and figure out what was going on. Nana Rachel had said that the person these books belonged to was her real daddy.
So, whoever Christopher was, that's who Nana Rachel thought was her real daddy.