Veronica pressed a hand against Molly's forehead. "You feel much cooler now," she said. "You were so warm earlier I thought you might not make it. Can you sit up?"
Molly sat up in the bed and looked around the hut to make sure there was no sign of Becky. What a strange dream, she thought. "How long have I been asleep?" she asked.
"Oh, I'd say about twelve hours. The way you were kicking and screaming, I thought you were possessed. What were you dreaming about?" Molly explained the dream. Afterwards, Veronica smiled and hugged her. "You're not a baby. You're a wonderful little girl. Becky must be crazy to let you go."
"She hates me," Molly said. "Everyone there does because I'm the littlest. It's not fair. It's not my fault."
"You're right, it's not. You can't help when you're born." Veronica went over to the hearth to retrieve a can of tomato soup. "Are you hungry? I kept it warm for when you woke up."
Molly's stomach grumbled in response and she eagerly accepted the can of soup. After slurping down half the can, she asked, "Veronica, were you ever little like me?"
"Of course, sweetheart, but it was a very long time ago in a place very far away called Albuquerque."
"Albu…where is it?"
"In the desert where it's very dry and warm and we hardly ever get snow, even in the winter. Never snow like this."
"That sounds nice."
"It was nice. Maybe I could show it to you before we go to Dublin, if you'd like."
"That would be wonderful. I've never seen a desert." Molly slurped down more soup. "What was your family like?"
"My parents were very bad people. My father liked to drink and when he drank, he liked to hit my mother and I."
"Why would your daddy hit you and your mama?"
"That's what alcohol does to people, honey. It makes them do bad things."
"What happened to your mama and daddy?"
Veronica turned her face to stare at the door. "They're dead," she said. "They died a long time ago."
"Does that make you sad?"
"No. Bad people deserve to die," Veronica said. She turned back to Molly with a smile. "You won't die for a long, long time I'm sure."
"I wish Helena were dead. And Ugly Phyllis. And Becky," Molly said. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that."
"It's all right, sweetheart. There's no harm in wishing bad people dead. That's what they deserve." Veronica patted Molly's cheek with a rough hand. "Go on and finish your soup."
Molly drank the rest of the soup, wondering if Veronica was right. Maybe she shouldn't feel bad about wanting Helena and Phyllis dead. They had done terrible things to Molly for as long as she could remember. They called her names, locked her in the basement, and then Helena had pushed her down the stairs and said she fell. They were very bad people.