“Things have been hard, Kat,” he explains, running a hand through his closely cropped hair.
“Juniper, then your parents. I understand,” I offer, pulling my frozen hands up into his jacket, seeking the warmth there. “That would be too much for anyone.”
“There was more to it. When I said we had a run of bad luck, it was even worse than what you've heard.” He sees my questioning concern but just shakes his head almost imperceptibly before continuing on. “Anyhow, the point is that I’m an addict and I drank through it all thinking I could run from the pain. I couldn’t. You never can.”
“I’ve tried,” I whisper. “I didn’t come back before now.”
“But you’re here now,” he reaches across the table and puts his hands out, and I reach forward and clasp his warmness, the sleeves of his jacket soaking up the moisture on the table like a sponge. “It took courage.”
“I was scared,” I admit. “I almost didn’t come.”
“But you did and that’s what matters.” His kind eyes rest squarely on my face, searching it, but I’m not sure what for, but I know that I hope he finds it. “And I’m so glad you did, Kat. Even as badly as you were treated here, even by my own parents, you came back to see me. ”
Erik gently lets go of my hands and comes to kneel beside me. I turn to take him in, on his knees, with his head towards my breasts. “Thank you,” he says softly.
I’m unable to answer as our eyes lock, his gaze is tender, but a smolder is also lit there, and we begin to move closer to one another, so slowly. The cold is gone for me as a flush goes up my neck, leaving a warm streak of pinkened flesh in its wake. I feel the butterflies flitting pleasurably in my belly as I go in to brush my lips against his.
Before I can get there the patio door swings open and we both look over quickly to see Kayla and Cara barrel through giggling. Cara is oblivious to the tender moment, but Kayla can see it written on our faces, and she turns to Cara to indicate that they should go back inside.
“No, stay,” Erik calls out, standing again, and I see that he also now has wet knees in his quest for chivalry. “We should get back into the warmth anyhow.”
I nod agreement, as I don’t want our first rekindle kiss to be out here, in the damp cold, with our whole high school just a window glance away. I stand up and hand Erik his completely soaked dress shirt.
“Juniper would love it if you would meet with her,” Erik says, addressing them all. “If you’re amenable, we’d love to have you come by tomorrow.”
We all miss a conversational beat as I know that Kayla is also reticent to go back to the house.
“I would say we could meet elsewhere, but Juniper doesn’t like leaving the house,” he explains apologetically as he observes our tentative glances.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I choke out.
Kayla nods quickly. “We will be glad to come.”
“Well, with that settled, shall we go in and dance and make chins wag?” Cara says with a shimmy.
“It’s what I’m best at,” I say, linking arms with her as Erik holds open the door with a gentlemanly nod. “That and trashing whatever room I’m ever in.”
“I knew it,” Erik laughs.
Chapter 5
Mary
1703
The mid-morning sun attempts to shine into the cottage as the Orioles sing relentlessly in the trees. Their melodic chirps are in stark contrast to the darkness lurking in my modest home, where their cheerful tune comes to wither. The threadbare curtains are pulled shut as I sit in the stillness. I’ve no desire for light, I do not care to see my meager surroundings, though they are proof of an unhappy life that exists whether I behold them or not.
This pile of dingey bricks has been a prison for 17 years, even if it is mine and has no bars or locks. The girl that was dragged here all those years ago, ground down like some fragile herb in my mortar and pestle is gone.
I was the gem of my pa’s eye, but still not valuable enough to cherish or keep. Not when the liquor got into him and the tables or the horse races called. Not while he squandered what we had systematically, borrowing from other upper class gentlemen and then when he could not pay debts and they denied him, he turned to scoundrels who were not so gentle. They began to stalk us, a constant threat outside our window, and it was when pa came home bloodied and raw that I knew, even at my young age, that tides were turning against us.
He began to gamble desperately to cover debts, but he always just incurred more, and the people he owed turned less and less savory. Little by little our lifestyle was pawned, object by object. Heirlooms of generations past sold for any amount. Mama’s beloved silver candlesticks gone for a pittance, same with the ornate rug and china, and then eventually me.
The blackhards took pa’s finger as a painful warning, with another finger promised with each week that he defaulted. Still he gambled, and one night at cards it was I that was in the pot.
A retired naval officer cum smuggler had caught sight of me and wanted a cook and maid under the guise of wife and so Pa’s lovely daughter of good breeding was offered in exchange for payment of his arrears.
I was a scant 16 when papa came home, sweating and beet red with wild eyes, rousting me from bed and packing what little I had left. Mama screamed in the corner as he cursed, while ransacking my drawers. The yowls that escaped
