Irene awoke to the sound of laughter, soft laughter. She looked over to see Edward still fast asleep and dawn still hours away. Slipping from between the quilted coverlet, Irene felt the cold hardwood under her feet. She searched for her slippers with her toes, but was unable to find them. Laughter echoed beyond her bedroom door. Forgetting about the slippers, Irene slipped her arms through her sleeves of her chenille robe and walked gingerly across the floor to the door. Her long delicate fingers encircled the glass doorknob and turned it clockwise, listening for the latch to release. Edward did not move and continued to softly snore. She stole out of her bedroom and into the gray lit hallway, the only light coming through the panes of glass over the stairwell.  Muffled laughter continued. Irene flinched as she spun around to face Sarah’s door. The laughter did not sound like Sarah’s. She opened the door to her daughter’s room to see Sarah sitting on the headboard with her feet placed firmly on her pillows. Her back was straight up against the wall, and she held Miss Ginger tightly in her grasp. Suddenly Sarah said, “Chapter 23. Flying in an Orange” and laughed.

            Irene walked over to the bed and reached for Sarah and the doll. “Sarah? Come down, honey. Mommy’s here.”

            Sarah did not respond.

            “Sarah?”

            Still no response.

            Irene took Sarah’s arm and pulled her off the headboard and into her arms. The doll never left Sarah’s grasp.  She lay Sarah back down on the feather bed and fluffed the pillow around her head. Miss Ginger lay with Sarah’s arm around her. Irene tried to move Sarah’s arm to release Miss Ginger from Sarah’s unwilling grip, but to no avail.  Sarah began to murmur again in her sleep. “Do you want to hear more of the story?” she muttered.

            Irene said, “Not tonight, honey.” But Irene didn’t think for a minute that Sarah was talking to her.