Ellis . . . her name started to sound different in my head. Ellis . . . I closed my eyes as I heard different voices call that name in my head. “Ellis . . . baby girl . . .” her papa had said. “Ellis . . .” Mrs. Jenkins. “Ellis . . .” A boy, a boy wearing a hat. Then, “Ellis . . . that’s a stupid name . . .” Heathan.
Heathan?
My eyes snapped open. Heathan sounded like my Rabbit.
Rabbit . . . Rabbit . . . my Rabbit . . .
Two hands grabbed my arms, and I looked up. “Ellis . . .” I blurted, and Rabbit’s face paled. “Ellis can’t have babies.” A sob tore from my throat. “She had one, in her belly. But they took it out. They took it all out. No more place to keep a baby. No more blood every month. They took it all.” I choked on a cry. “They gave Ellis a scar . . .”
Rabbit didn’t say anything, but his hands shook on my arms. His face turned from white to bright red.
My hands raked across the scar on my stomach. “I have a scar, Rabbit. It’s there! I see it. Can you see it?” My head shook and too many images sprang into my head. A hallway . . . an office . . . a bed . . . Uncle John . . . Uncle John . . . Uncle John . . . Papa . . .
I clawed at my scar, but Rabbit threw my hand out of my way and looked down. A growl ripped from his throat, so venomous that I flinched away. “Rabbit, why do I have a scar? Why were people calling me Ellis? Why do I have a scar like Ellis . . .?”
Rabbit went dead still and locked his eyes on mine. His jaw was still tight, but he released one of my arms and lifted his thimble into the air. “I gave it to you,” he said. I didn’t like the sound of his voice. It was frightening. He hissed, eyes closing for a second. “I gave it to you years ago.” He tilted his head to the side, searching my eyes. “Don’t you remember?”
I shook my head and uncurled my body some from its place against the wall. “When? Why?”
“When we were little.” He swallowed, and a drop of blood fell from the cut on his neck. “We were having afternoon tea with the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse and the March Hare. I accidently dropped the teapot on the ground. You tripped and fell. A piece of the teapot cut your stomach.”
I racked my brain to remember. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember the faces of the Dormouse, the March Hare or the Mad Hatter. But I did like my afternoon tea . . .
“I don’t remember,” I whispered and felt my bottom lip quiver.
Rabbit’s angry silver eyes softened, and the hand holding the thimble moved to my cheek. His hand was shaking. I didn’t know why. “You hit your head,” Rabbit whispered back. He tapped my temple. “You lost some of your memory.” My heart felt sad at how sad he sounded.
I reached up and covered his hand on my cheek. “Don’t feel bad, Rabbit. I don’t remember, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” I smiled, but it felt strange on my face because my heart still wanted me to cry. I fought against it. I was a champion, after all. “I am not mad at you, Rabbit. I could never be mad at my Rabbit.”
His eyes closed, and he inhaled quickly through his nose. When his eyes opened again, I sighed. “Rabbit . . . did all of that happen to Ellis? Did she have her baby taken from her? Did they take away the place in her tummy where babies live? Did they do that to her, even though she cried?”
Rabbit made a strange choking sound in his throat. But he nodded. His lips shook, still stained with blood. “I think it did,” he said, his voice catching. He cleared his throat. “Ellis was hurt real bad.”
I nodded and looked down. Tears fell from my eyes and splashed on the floor. “My Ellis . . . I am sad for my friend Ellis.”
“I am too.” He stroked his thumb across my neck. “Do you want some tea, darlin’? Will tea help you feel better?”
I smiled, even though it hurt my lips. “Yes please, Rabbit. Tea always helps.”
He stared at me without words, then my heart flipped in my chest when he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips were soft, and they stayed, branding my skin for so many seconds that my cold skin began to warm. My hurting heart began to feel warm.