The Cherbourg Jewels by Jenni Wiltz

on the strength of her father’s grip, holding onto her and to life itself as tightly as he could. 
    As long as he’s holding my hand, he’s still with me , she thought.
    She could see her father’s eyes look from her face to some faraway point over her shoulder.  “You are so beautiful, my girl.  Wonderful things are going to happen for you.”
    “Dad, I have to go…I’m going to get you an ambulance.”
    But he wouldn’t let go of her hand.  “Ella, wait.  You have to promise me something.”
    “Anything,” she sobbed.
    “Promise me you won’t let this stop you from believing.”
    “In what?  What are you talking about?”
    “In people, Ella.  Promise me you’ll always believe in people.  Remember only what’s good and forget about everything else.”  He grimaced and coughed and she saw a streak of red flow from his mouth over his cheek.
    “ I can’t,” she said, feeling her shock turn to anger.  “ Dad, I’m going to find them.”
    “Ella, don’t.  You have so much more to live for.” 
    The pressure of his hand was growing weaker.  Instead of them squeezing against each other, now she was the one squeezing, holding his hand up with the weight of her own.
    “Dad!  Come on, you have to squeeze!”
    “You didn’t promise.”
    “I promise, Dad, now squeeze!  It doesn’t work unless you squeeze my hand!”
    But instead of growing stronger, her father grew weaker.  A soft exhale of breath swept over her cheek like a kiss.  Then his hand slumped in hers and his eyes closed. 
    “Dad!”  She shook him gently but nothing happened.  His eyes stayed closed.  “Dad!” she shrieked.  “Dad!”
    *
    Ella woke up drenched in sweat, still screaming for her father.  She clutched the covers to her chest and glanced around the room, hearing the echo of her own panting breaths.  Her heart raced as if she’d just run a marathon and she felt just as exhausted. 
    The nightmares still hadn’t stopped, not completely.  At first, they’d happened every day, tapering off to once a week and then once a month as she grew older.  Now, they only happened when she let herself dwell on the events of that night.    
    She sat up and put a hand over her heart, hoping she could calm it down.  Ella hated the nightmares, not so much for replaying the moments of her father’s death but for making her feel that the loss was still fresh.  It hurt more to see him and hear him alive than to realize he was still dead. 
    It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the loss.  Ella spent most of her elementary school years believing the world was against her, that she had to fight the universe itself to get anything she wanted.  It wasn’t until she was a teenager that she’d realized lots of other kids had t errible childhood stories , too . 
    One of the boys she’d dated had come from a broken home where his mother was too drunk most of the time to make his meals.  One of the girls on her cross-country team had overcome a rare form of bone-marrow cancer and had the scars to prove it.  Finally, it had begun to sink in that the universe hadn’t picked on her and her alone.  Once she understood that life held its fair share of disappointment and heartbreak, she began to change her outlook.  Maybe , she thought, I’ve just gotten through my share early.  Maybe it’s all going to be easier from here on out.  
    That hadn’t really been true, but having a positive mindset helped her get through college and the first few hungry years of being out on her own in the big city.  But when the dreams came back, like tonight, they took her right back to that scared, angry place—and she had to re-learn how to be happy all over again. 
    As her eyes took in her surroundings, the events of the previous day flooded back over her.  She looked down at her hands, still wrapped in gauze, and she remembered everything that had brought her to the Cherbourg mansion. 
    She lay back and sighed,