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1. Tammy
2. Ward
3. Tammy
4. Ward
5. Tammy
6. Ward
7. Tammy
8. Ward
Epilogue
More Jenna Rose
His Only Desire Box set
CONTENTS
TAMMY
“HARDER, Tammy. Harder! Reallyarch it. Push that thing out!”
I arch my back so hard I can feel my spine start to strain and am sure that if I push any harder it’s going to snap like a plastic knife bent beyond its breaking point. At the same time, I keep the ball of my right foot pointed, my knee at the perfect angle, my hip twisted just right, my shoulder square to the camera, my hand in my hair, and my face in that perfect Instagram model pose that Cole and I have spent the last half an hour researching so I can emulate perfectly.
They make it look so easy. In reality, it’s torture. Brutal torture.
“Take the fricking picture!” I manage to gasp through clenched teeth.
“Shut up and I will! Pop your butt!”
“I am!”
“Shut up!”
I try to make a sexy face, pretending that I’m not in excruciating agony, and when I finally hear the snap of the shutter on Cole’s phone, I collapse into a heap on the floor. Cole bursts out laughing.
“Yeah, this isn’t a career for you.”
“Yeah, it isn’t supposed to be,” I reply, picking myself up. Career.
My heart sinks at the word. It seems like out of my graduating class, I’m the only girl who doesn’t have her entire life already planned out. I’m not going to college, I don’t have a dream career in
mind, and I’m pretty sure that if tonight’s plan doesn’t work out, I’m going to end up depressed and lonely with a serious habit by the time I’m old enough to drink. Cole has encouraged me to start an Instagram for my charcoal portrait drawings, but isn’t that what every girl who’s trying to “find herself” does?
As I rub my back, I hear the sounds of the game from the living room. A first down and a commercial break from the sounds of it. That’s about all I know about football—aside from the fact that for some reason, sometimes they kick the ball instead of throwing it to each other.
“Why are we doing this, Tam-Meister?” Cole asks. He was the safe choice for something like this. The one guy I know who wouldn’t get all creepy and pervy with me dressed up thirstier than Lawrence in the first act of Lawrence of Arabia.
I’m about to answer when I hear the sound of his footsteps coming down the hall. Another bathroom break, but he’s going to have to pass my room to get there.
“Let’s take another!” I say quickly, scrambling to get back into my back-breaking position.
Cole is one of my oldest friends. We go back to the middle school production of Robin Hood. He played Robin Hood and I played Maid Marian, but unlike our fictional counterparts, there was never that spark between us, and that’s why I’m somewhat comfortable wearing this up-my-butt bodysuit and heels in front of him for this amateur photoshoot in my bedroom that I called him over for tonight.
I try to keep my cool as I hear his footsteps approaching—Ward Gaffer, the man who has been taking care of me for the last five years.
Stepfather? Foster father?
I used to use those terms, but not anymore. It just feels wrong now…
I hear his steps. Each one thuds in my chest like a mallet, bringing my heartbeat to a higher and higher crescendo until I’m absolutely certain I’m going to have a heart attack.
I twist my hips and breathe out every bit of air in my lungs, forcing my waist to shrink like I’m trying to squeeze myself through an impossible squeeze in some terrifying underground cave.
“Yeah, that’ll work,” I hear Cole mutter, but I’m not listening to him. I’m listening to Ward’s footsteps.
I hear a slight pause at the door, and my breath catches in my chest as I brace myself for his scolding. Surely he’s going to say something. This kind of behavior from me in his house? He’ll never stand for it. But in the time it takes for Cole to snap his second photo, I hear his footsteps move on, and when I turn around and glance at the doorway, all I can see is his back heading down the hall away from me.
His broad, thick, hulking back, moving through the house like a wrestler. He almost takes up the entire hallway as he moves. Even if I didn’t know the house belonged to him, there would be no question.
Ward owns every space he enters. That’s the kind of man he is.
An ex-crime boss who cleaned up his ways and is now a legitimate businessman, Ward became my legal guardian when my father vanished when I was 12. I’ll never forget the moment I saw him.
I was sitting in the police station, tears streaming down my cheeks, facing a lifetime in the foster care system as the deputy explained to me that my father was never coming back, and seeing as how my mother was dead, I was going to need someone to watch over me.
And in walks this man.
A towering gladiator, six-foot-four carrying slabs of muscle beneath his pinstriped suit. I knew immediately he was the kind of guy who would terrify most people, but when he looked down at me with eyes of amber, I felt his presence and knew that he would never let anything happen to me. I knew I had to go with him.
And I did. And somehow, he made it happen.
That was five years ago. I was barely a teenager.
He’s forty-two now, and I just turned eighteen yesterday. And every night since then, I’ve gone to sleep thinking about that day.
The day he saved my life. And how I’ve loved him ever since.
I used to question myself—feel ashamed for loving a man more than twice my age. But the boys at school do nothing for me. They never did. How could they ever even hope to compare to a man like Ward? All they talk about is what new music “really slaps,” or who the latest new Instagram model is and what they would do to her if they got their hands on her (in their dreams). They all talk a big game, but that’s all it is, a big game that I’m not interested in playing.
Ward doesn’t play games. He makes his own rules. He runs the show. All the boys I’ve ever met would cower in his presence, and he wouldn’t even notice. He wouldn’t even give them a second glance. Does a shark notice the minnows swimming alongside him?
Cole snaps another photo, and I hold the pose as I hear Ward’s footsteps approaching again. This time I twist toward the door and give myself the world’s worst thigh cramp in the process. As he passes, his eyes flick briefly in the room. They land on me but quickly move to Cole. There’s a flare of anger, like a match being lit, and then he’s gone.
Again, I collapse into a heap.
“Those are gonna slay,” Cole remarks.
Ugh,slay.
“Yeah,” I sigh, rubbing the knot in my leg. “I think that’s it for tonight. I’m spent.”
“You wanna do a few more?”
“No. I don’t think I’m Instagram model material after all.”
Cole shrugs. “Okay. I’ll text ‘em to ya.”
He grabs his things and starts to go. “Hey, Cole? Use the back door, okay? Ward’s in a…bad mood tonight.”
Cole grins. “Sure. Thanks for warning me. Wouldn’t want the ol’ mob boss to put a hit on me!”
I go to the mirror and take in my reflection. I hardly even look like myself, and that was the point: to show Ward how much I’ve grown since I’ve been in his care. The guys at school have labeled me a “good girl.” Some have even gone so far as to call me “the nun” and joked that I wear a chastity belt under my clothes.
If they could see me now…
Lusting over a man I can’t have. A man who has been my guardian for five years.
WhydoIdothistomyself?
Like a doe on ice, I prance down the hall and into the living room to find Ward on the couch watching the game. His legs are spread wide—manspreading like a king—and his white silk shirt is unbuttoned enough to expose his chest, covered in just the right amount of dark hair. A look the guys at my school could only dream about pulling off. Instantly, my thighs begin to warm, and my body begins to buzz with excitement.
“First down, huh?” I ask. Ward looks up at me with amusement.
“Football fan all of a sudden, Tams?”
“Well, you like it.” I shrug. “So it must be kind of fun, right?”
I notice his drink is almost empty, and bend way over to retrieve it from the coffee table, almost falling out of my bodysuit in the process. “Need a refill?”
Without even shifting his eyes from the TV, Ward nods.
“Sure, thanks.”
Epic fail.
So much for my womanly charms. The onesie, the heels. He doesn’t see any of it. He still sees the crying little thirteen-year-old in the police station that he came and saved that day, and nothing I do is going to change that.
“Cole finally put the moves on you?” he asks as I drop a sphere of ice into his glass and add some of his favorite whiskey.
Now there’s a good one. Even if Cole and I didn’t go way back, and even if he wasn’t in the permanent friend-zone, Cole is hardly the kind of guy to “put the moves” on anyone. In fact, when he was crushing on Barbara Brenton, I gave him all kinds of advice on how to go for the kiss, and he ignored all of it. It all finally came to a head when she lay on his lap for the entirety of the Fellowship of the Rings extended edition and he didn’t do anything.
She was crushed and never talked to him again.
And I get it. Completely.
I can’t imagine how devastated I would be if I put myself out there like that with Ward and lay on his lap for hours, trembling with anticipation, just waiting for him to put his hands on me, and in the end, he did nothing. Even now, just not getting his attention with my outfit is enough to make me want to go crawl into my closet and stay there for a week.
“Cole?” I laugh, coming back over with his drink. “He’s harmless. Not like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Big scary mob boss,” I tease, leaning over as far as I can as I hand him his glass, letting my eyes drift across the bulge between his legs.
“Come on, Tams. You know that life is well behind me.”
He takes the glass from me, and our eyes meet. It’s a brief moment, but it twists my stomach into knots, and I almost topple over in these heels I was never meant to walk in. His gaze goes straight to my gut, freezing me like a paralytic. Those eyes. I can see now why so many men were terrified by him. But not me. I want nothing more than to crawl into his lap and feel his strong arms wrap around me and hold me close to his chest.
The crowd roars on the TV behind me, and Ward raises his head to look over me. But I raise myself up and obscure his view with a face full of my cleavage. Shameless, I know, but I don’t care.
“Tammy, you’re—”
“What?” I ask, cocking my head to the side so my hair falls in his face. “I’m what?”
“You’re blocking the game.”
He tries to take a deep breath without me noticing, but I do.
“Worried about your view?” I ask him. “Don’t like the view I’m giving you?”
“Stop,” he says, his tone stern.
“Don’t you miss it?” I ask him.
“Miss what?”
“The life,” I reply. “Being a boss. An outlaw. Getting your thrills from somewhere other than watching a football game?”
What I’m saying istrue. I saw a shift in Ward’s personality when he retired from the life. He said he did it to keep me safe, but it was like a piece of him died when he put it all away and went legitimate.
“Christ, what the hell are you wearing, Tammy? Haven’t you heard of covering up at home?”
Leaning forward, I let my breasts brush against his bare chest and inhale deeply, filling my nose with his scent.
“I could ask you the same thing, Daddy,” I giggle as I run a fingertip through his chest hair.
Ward shakes his head. “Yeah, but I don’t have a perfect goddamn pair of C-cups that—” He stops midsentence, frowns, takes me by the waist, roughly pushes me off of him, and stands. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s okay,” I stammer, forcing myself not to smile as my heart explodes with warmth.
“No, it’s not. I’m your foster father and—”
“You’re not my realfather, Ward—”
“Enough!” His voice is thunderous and shakes me to the core and I get a true taste of the man he once was. His face is red and terrible, his eyes narrow and filled with rage. But his sweatpants can’t hide his true desire.
His bulge has grown. A straight shaft beneath the fabric points directly at me like a spear, barely covered by the thin fabric. I allow myself to smile and lower my eyes to it, which in turn, causes him to lower his.
“I…”
“It’s okay, Daddy,” I say softly. “You’re not my realdaddy.”
I step forward in my heels, pressing my body against his. His arm wraps around me in response, applying pressure to the small of my back. His bulge finds a home between my thighs, pressing against my eager region with a power that I’ve longed and dreamt for but now excites and frightens me all at the same time.
“I’m not a little girl anymore, addy. I know you see that…”
“Of course I do,” he growls as his other hand moves up my thigh to the hem of my onesie. I draw a breath and wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, feeling the raw strength in the muscles
of his chest and back. Slowly, I grind my hips against his manhood, threatening myself with the consequences of my own actions.
I can feel his hesitation. He’s holding back. He may have once been a criminal, but he’s still thinking twice about this.
“I’m eighteen now, Daddy. I’m an adult. You’re not responsible for me anymore.”
He stands stoic like a stone statue, his hands frozen where they are, resisting even the movement of my hips. I have to do something, so I go for broke.
I move one of my hands from around his neck and trace a line up his thigh. Beneath the fabric of his sweatpants, I can feel the sculpted muscles there. Daddy spends every day at the gym working out and proudly never skips leg day. But that’s not what I’m interested in.
His hand tightens on the small of my back as I continue up. And then I reach it.
I tighten my grip around it. Feel its strength. Its hardness. Its warmth.
“It’s all right, Daddy. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“No!” he blurts out. With a swift motion, he pushes me away and back onto the couch. “This is wrong, Tammy. I’m forty-two. You’re barely eighteen. I raised you for the last five years.”
“Ward, I’m not a little girl anymore!” I protest. “I’m a grown woman.”
“Fine.” He nods. “If that’s the case, then you can take care of yourself now, right?”
“I can!”
“Good. I want you out of the house by tomorrow.”
And like that, he’s gone.
I lie on the couch for what seems like ages, trying to process what just happened. I played my hand, but I overplayed it. Pushed all my chips into the center of the table when I thought I had pocket aces, when really all I had was a whole lot of nothing. And Ward called my bluff. Not only that, he took me for everything I had. And now I’m left with nothing.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Ward over the years, it’s that you never accept defeat. Never take things lying down.
Even as I wipe the tears from my eyes and stand, I start to formulate a plan on not only how to save my own ass, but how to get Ward to reconsider.
And as I stand and almost break my ankle in these stupid heels I don’t know how to walk in, an idea pops into my head.
It’s insane. Completely against my character, and I’ll probably hate every second of it.
But it just might work.
And if it gets me Daddy back, it will all be worth it.
WARD
GRUNTING, I stuff my cock back in my boxers and roll over on the bed. Herbed.
She’s been gone two days now, and they’ve been the worst two days of my life. I’ve come in here at least three times a day since then to breathe her scent and get my relief, however brief it might be, and although it’s nowhere near enough, it’s keeping me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
Calling her back.
I had to kick her out. It just wouldn’t work. Us.
Even the sound of the word in my mind sends a terrible pain through my chest. She’s eighteen and crushing on the man who protected her when her dad went missing. That’s all it is. Nothing more. She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want a relationship. She has no idea what terms like devotion or commitment really mean. She’s young and gorgeous and has her whole life ahead of her. I’m an old, washed-up gangster with his glory days behind him. What the hell do I have to offer her?
But Lord knows I’ve thought about it. How many nights I had to sleep down the hall from her, watch her grow into the woman she became, see her prancing around the house in nothing but panties and a long T-shirt that did nothing to hide her sweet little teenage ass, not even having the courtesy to put a bra on either.
The ultimate tease. Completely forbidden. Taboo. Making me feel like a creepy old man every time I got a hard-on from looking at her. The girl I took care of, raised up, protected from the world.
When I walked into the police station that day and saw her crying there, never in a million years did I think I could ever look at her in any other way than as a little girl who needed saving. And then all of a sudden, in a blink of an eye, she was all grown up. And boy did she know it too.
It was like a game to her. Try to see how hard she could push my buttons before she broke me. And two days ago, she almost did.
It was bad enough that she was in there doing that amateur photoshoot with that boy from her high school, wearing clothes she’d never be caught dead in otherwise. If it wasn’t for the fact that that little spud wouldn’t ever put the moves on her, I would have gone in there and broken his phone along with half of his fingers for even daring to turn his lens on her like that. But when she came into the living room right after, I realized it was all part of her game.
And that’s all it was. A game.
Probably a bet between the two of them to see if she could seduce the old man. I’ve gone to bed the last two nights thinking about it—replaying various possible conversations between the two of them in my mind.
“You can’t get him to fuck you, Tammy.”
“You don’t think so? I bet you a hundred bucks I can!”
Tammy could be out there in a bikini on the beach with hordes of college boys hitting on her, but she’s trying to seduce me? An old bastard more than twice her age who raised her for the past five years? Sounds more like a bet than a real attraction to me. Or something she saw on the Internet and wants to emulate for a laugh.
But no matter how hard I rationalize, no matter how many times I tell myself she doesn’t really want me, and no matter how wrong I know it would be for me to have done what I wanted to do to her that night in the living room, I still can’t get her sweet body out of my mind.
Those breasts, those legs, the way she moved in those heels and the way she would have looked bent over on the couch with me hammering her from behind. Yeah, so I’m a dirty old man. I’ve spent the majority of my life sinning. At least I was able to keep myself from making a mistake I can’t afford to make.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Throwing away her virginity on a guy like me. Something that precious should be given to someone she loves. Not to some broken-down old gangster she has a silly little crush on.
Lord knows I wanted to take her. Christ, I’ve stroked myself off to the thought of her plump tits bouncing beneath me so many times my cock is sore. Thinking about stretching out that tight little untouched pussy is a fantasy that makes me feel more guilty than anything I’ve ever done in my past.
But that’s all it can be.
A fantasy.
Slowly, I sit up and try to will my erection down. But it’s not going anywhere, despite the fact that I’ve come four times already today. I clench my fist hard enough that my nails dig into my palm in hopes that the pain will do something to quell the lust flowing freely through me, but as I close my eyes and take a breath, all I see is her gorgeous body hanging over me, barely concealed in that skimpy little onesie, her coltish legs barely balanced on those ridiculous stripper heels.
Wheredidsheevengetthose?
It’s not anything I’d ever seen Tammy wear before. She must have bought them for that little photoshoot she was doing with Cole. Even knowing their history, that they were nothing more than friends, I couldn’t help but feel a flare of jealousy in my chest when I walked past her door and saw her twisting her body like a seductress.
And that was when it hit me.
Our realgeneration gap.
Imagine me doing a photoshoot with her for Instagram. Or even knowing how to hold the camera for her so she could pose. Just the thought of it almost makes me laugh. Not that I’d be okay with her
posting shit like on the Internet for all the world to see. Not if we were together.
But that’s not going to happen now. It was never possible and never will be.
Before I stand up, I lean back down and bury my face in Tammy’s bed and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with her scent. Youstupidoldman.Ifyouletherstayyoucouldhavemorethan this.
Shaking my head, I go to the kitchen and grab an ice pack from the fridge and stuff it straight down my pants. The icy chill takes my breath away, but my cock stands strong and hard against it, the vision of Tammy and her gorgeous body still strong in my mind like a poison I’m unable to cleanse. I close my eyes and take a breath, trying some of my deep breathing exercises my therapist taught me when I was working on my anger management.
And then my phone rings.
“Fuck!” I snatch it off the counter and answer. “Yeah?”
“Ward, ol’ buddy! How the hell are you, pal?” It’s Pauly, one of my best guys from back in the day. Tough. Reliable. And always liked to party. And from the sounds of it, that’s what he’s up to right now.
“Not gonna lie to you, Pauly. I’ve been better.”
“Well, I’ve got something that’s gonna cheer you up, boss!”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Well, it’s Tuesday, so you know what that means, right? Amateur night at Chaser’s!”
I’m already shaking my head. “I’m gonna have to pass, Pauly—”
“You know, boss, I knew you’d say that. And I also know that you probably haven’t gotten back in the saddle since Valerie left you, so I sent a car for you.”
“You sent a car for me?” Headlights blare through the front windows, and I look out to see a black Benz pulling up in the driveway. “Pauly, who the hell is that?”
“That’d be Matt,” he chuckles. “Don’t be mad at him, boss. I told him you already agreed to this.”
“Pauly…”
“Did I mention it’s my birthday, boss?”
I sigh and lean against the counter. The ice is just starting to work, and my dick’s just starting to go down and here’s Pauly trying to guilt trip me into going to a strip club with him.
Even when I was the boss, strip clubs were never my scene. Lots of lesser men liked to hold court there. Have girls hanging all over them while they poured champagne and flaunted their cash. But those guys were jokers whose business and territory were eventually claimed by me. I stayed clear of the nonsense, the flaunting, and the girls. It was one of my rules, and how I got to the top.
“You know my rules, Pauly.”
“You’re retired, boss! Come on, live a little! Maybe you’ll meet a sweet little thing, ya know? How long’s it been since you got a piece?”
I glance out the window at the Benz. I haven’t seen either of these guys in years. I cut everyone off. It was part of putting my old life behind me. And truth be told, I miss them. And maybe he’s right. Since Valerie left me, I’ve been on my own. She didn’t like the idea of not being a mob wife anymore, so she hitched up with one of my competitors. And seeing as how if I stay home all I’ll do is torture myself with thoughts of Tammy, maybe a night of drunken debauchery is exactly what I need to clear my head.
“Fuck it,” I say into the phone. “I’ll see ya soon, Pauly.”
“Wear sweatpants!” he roars with glee.
Grumbling, I toss the icepack back into the freezer then quickly change my clothes into something more presentable. I don’t take Pauly’s advice, and instead put on a pair of dark jeans and an offwhite button-up.
This isn’t the right move. Not for me. But I need anything right now to take my mind off her. Even as I pass her bedroom I have to force myself not to go in and take another sniff of her bed. Christ, this is absolute fucking torture. I’ll have to call someone in the morning to have it taken away.
“Boss.” Matt smiles as I slide in the passenger side. “Long time.”
“Lookin’ good, Matty.” I nod. “Lose some weight?”
“Keto diet,” he replies as he backs out of the driveway. “My girl’s pilfered all the carbohydrates from the house.”
“You got a girl and you’re going to the strip club?”
Matt flashes me a grin. “Where do you think I met her?”
All I can do is chuckle and shake my head as we make for the club. Matt was a loyal soldier but never knew his ass from a hole in the ground when it came to women. Always getting himself in deep with the wrong ones, and it sounds like he’s done it again.
The drive is just long enough that by the time we get there I’m almost ready to tell him to turn around, but when I see Pauly standing at the door in a baby-blue suit with a pink shirt and gold chain, looking like the happiest birthday boy there ever was, I realize I’m committed and put on my best smile as I step out of the car.
“There he is!” Pauly exclaims, bringing me in for one of his patented bear hugs. He still smells of the same cologne and same brand of cigarettes as he used to five years ago. “Christ, Boss, I never thought I’d see you again!”
“Happy Birthday, ol’ boy. What are you, a ripe old twenty-five?”
“Twenty-seven!” he jokes. Of course he’s as old as I am, and although he’s pushing three hundred pounds, he has a baby face that could pass for early thirties. “Come on, let’s get inside. I been jammed up for days. Need a release, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“Yeah, well, it’s amateur night,” Matt reminds him. “Don’t expect much.”
I may have been out of the game since I took in Tammy, but my reputation around town is still strong. The bouncers move out of the way and don’t bother asking any of us for a door fee. I tip them both on my way in anyway.
Inside, the air is thick, and some kind of country music is playing for the girl finishing up her set on stage. There looks to be about twenty dollars in singles at her feet as she casually swings around the pole in a pair of clear heels and a lime-green thong, and as she snaps her head back, her blond wig goes flying off the edge of the stage.
“Christ,” I grumble. “Amateur night, all right.”
Matt and Pauly both laugh as we find our seats. In seconds, two girls come over and take our drink orders, both of them giving me the eye. Surely they’re too young to know who I am, but word
spreads quickly in a place like this, and on top of that, the car Matt brought me in costs as much as a small house in this area.
“And ladies and gentleman, coming to the stage we have a fantastic new performer,” the DJ’s voice blares over the speakers. “Coming all the way from Russia, she may or may not be a KGB spy, but please welcome Anastasia!”
“Anastasia,” I mutter under my breath as one of the girls sets my drink in front of me, along with a generous helping of her breasts in my face.
“Here you go,” she whispers in my ear. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
The lights around us dim, and a spotlight comes up on the stage.
“This is it, boss!” Pauly says, pointing to the stage. “This is the one! No more flipping wigs and shit. This one’s gonna be a pro!”
“Yeah? And you know that how? You a fortune teller?”
“I can feel it in my bones,” he laughs.
The music starts. Some kind of hip-hop, rap stuff that Tammy would know about better than me. I raise my glass to my lips to take a sip, but as a leg slips out from behind the curtain, it falls from my hands and splashes all over my feet.
“Whoa, you all right, boss?” Pauly laughs.
A shooting pain streaks through my chest like a fiery lightning. I lean forward and grip the table as “Anastasia” steps on stage.
Dressed in scarlet stockings, complete with a garter belt and a matching bra, she walks with such grace in a pair of black heels that you’d think she was born with them on her feet. Her nails, painted red to match her lingerie, reflect the spotlight beaming down on her, and her eyes, smoky and sultry, gaze out across the crowd of lusting men who begin to hoot and holler like a pack of dogs as she begins her routine.
“Goddamn,” Matt remarks from beside me. “Who’s that filly?”
Tammy, I think as my heart begins to break. That’sTammy…
TAMMY
YOU CAN DO THIS. You’re Anastasia now. And nobody can stop you.
My feet are killing me, but my ankles are strong and stable. I’ve spent the entire day walking around in these stupid heels, making sure I don’t pull a deer-on-ice and go down in front of the entire club of screaming, testosterone-filled men. I even worked out a routine at Cole’s house on the pole of his back porch awning. It’s not much, but at least when I snap my head my wig won’t come off.
As I twist around the pole, my hand slips slightly. I grip tighter and loop with my right leg, saving myself from what could have been a launch into the crowd. And as I do, I see him.
There. Sitting at his table with Pauly and Matt, his face looking like he has a burning ball of coal inside his chest as he watches me go through my routine.
Myplanworkedthen.
Just a little sooner than I had expected.
I knew that me working at Chaser’s would end up getting back to him. I just figured I’d be able to at least be here a week or so and get my feet under me before he actually showed up in person. I know how much he looks down on places like this, so I definitely didn’t expect him to be here tonight on my first night.
I try not to tremble as I go through the rest of my routine. I thought I’d only have the regular crowd watching me tonight. But
with his eyes on me, it’s all I can do to even remember my next move. Trying to make them sexy at this point is impossible.
It’s only been two days since he threw me out of the house, but it feels like two years. Thankfully Cole took me in and let me sleep on his couch, but I’ve been feeling the loss of Ward’s presence every single minute that I’ve been gone. But God knows this isn’t how I wanted us to be reunited.
I’d hoped to have been somewhat in control when he came into the club. Hoped to have had my moves down, had some kind of confidence, stage presence, felt comfortable in my new skin and persona.
Anastasia…
It’s a silly, probably cliché name, but I couldn’t come up here as Tammy. That just wouldn’t have been right. I need Ward to see that I’m no longer the little girl he thinks I am and he doesn’t have to be afraid to see me as the woman I’ve become. But as I spin around the pole and gaze out at him and see him looking back at me from the audience, my heart sinks.
Myplanisn’tworking.
In fact, it may just be backfiring.
While Pauly and Matt are clapping and hollering beside their old boss, Ward is sitting in his chair stone-faced, glaring at me through hooded eyes. His expression says it all, and I wonder if I may have just blown things with him forever.
The music pounds like a hammer, driving my anxiety deeper and deeper into my chest as I fight to finish my amateur routine. Ones hit the stage at my feet, and I force a smile at the cheering men. I fear for their safety. Will Ward want to hurt them for treating me in a way he most certainly sees as degrading, or will he be jealous and want to claim his territory?
Inevershouldhavedonethis.
I glance over at them and back to Ward, praying he won’t get up from his seat and go over to them as they shout disgusting things at me from the edge of the stage. And I don’t know whether I’m relieved or disappointed when Ward does nothing. He just sits there, arms folded across his chest while I finish the rest of my routine.
I’m sweating. My heart is racing. I’ve blown it. This was a terrible mistake. Once my song is over, I’m going to jump off the stage and throw myself into his arms. God, what was I thinking? Playing games like this with Ward. I wanted to convince him I was a grown up, and I ended up behaving like a little girl. Of course he’s still going to look at me as one.
Trying not to vomit, I toss my hair, doing one last final swing around the pole as the song ends and the DJ’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. “All right, let’s hear it for Anastasia, fellas! Tip her well, she’s come all the way from Russia to be here tonight!”
Breathing heavily, I grip the sweaty steel and look down at the dollar bills strewn about my feet as the guilt sinks into my heart. Even for a million dollars this wouldn’t have been worth it. There’s nothing left to do now but to go to Ward and apologize – explain everything and hope he forgives me and takes me back. But when I raise my head and look up, his seat is empty.
He and his men are gone.
Don’tcry.Justdon’t.
I thought I’d feel sexy and empowered picking up my earnings. Instead, I feel like yesterday’s trash, stinking up the garbage can as I hurriedly fumble with the crumpled dollar bills on my way off the stage. I can feel the eyes of all the other men in the club on my body—drinking in the exposed skin that I realize now I only ever wanted him to see. They clap and cheer as I hurry toward the back, but that just hastens the tears building behind my eyes.
“Nice job, Anastasia,” a red-headed girl calling herself Tori says with a fake smile as I step into the back hall. She’s not here for amateur night; she’s a real stripper who’s had a problem with me since I got here. “A little rough at the end, but hey, this job isn’t for everyone.”
My mind races through a mental stack of notecards filled with comebacks but eventually just settles on a lame, “Not now, Tori.”
“I’d imagine that’s what Bobby will say,” she laughs. Bobby, the club owner, she means. Guess I won’t be getting the job.
I know that if I get into it with her right now, I’ll end up having a breakdown in front of her and the rest of the girls, so I bite the
inside of my lower lip and walk quickly into the locker room and stuff my meager earnings into my bag and start changing.
He didn’t even wait to talk to me. He just left. Just like that.
I must disgust him. Instead of making him jealous, making him want to claim me and take me back, I pushed him away forever. My chances of going home to him are gone. My fantasy of being wrapped in his arms will remain just that a fantasy. I thought this job would just be a way of getting him to take me back. But now, what if I actually have to stay here to survive?
The fact that he didn’t even stay long enough to scold me hurts the worst. I thought that he’d at least be jealous enough to take me aside and yell at me. Ask me what the hell I thought I was doing. But he just left without a word. And that let me know that he really is truly done with me. I’m no longer a thought in his mind. He took me into his home, raised me, protected me, and then I blew it. Now I’m on my own.
Stuffing my things into my bag, I get up and head for the back door.
“Don’t forget to tip out.” I stop and turn to see Tori with her arms crossed and eyes on me.
“Tip out?”
“I know you’re not a real dancer, honey, but the club has rules. And one of them is tipping out.” Her eyes remind me of a spider’s as she walks over to me and snatches my night’s earnings from my hands and begins to count it. “We tip the bouncers for watching out for us, the bartenders for tending bar, and then of course there’s the entrance fee for the club.”
“Entrance fee?”
“You think it’s free to work here?” Tori laughs as she finishes counting. “And you’re light. This won’t even cover it. But you can work off the rest when you come back.”
She stuffs the rest of the money into her bra and starts to walk away.
“Hey, wait a second!” I reach out and grab her by the wrist to stop her, but she spins quickly and slaps me hard across the face.
“Don’t touch me, bitch,” she snaps. “You’re lucky I don’t make you stick around and give a few lapdances to pay off what you owe. But seeing as how it’s your first day, and I’m feeling generous tonight, I’ll let you leave. But don’t test me.”
Showing her teeth like vampires do in the movies, Tori advances on me until I feel the cold metal of the back door on the small of my back. Then, with blinding speed, she shoves me hard in the chest and sends me toppling over backwards out into the parking lot.
I land hard on a rock that drives a sharp edge straight into the back of my thigh. Pain flares and I cry out and look up just in time to see Tori’s cruel smile looking down at me with such pity that I instantly burst into tears. The door to the club slams shut, leaving me in the darkness and the cold of the back parking lot, and just as I’m wondering how the night could ever possibly get worse, I hear the sound of loud, drunken male voices behind me.
“Oh, shit. You all right, sweetheart?”
“Come on, boys! Let’s save her!”
“Don’t be a white knight, Carl, you limp dick. She’s not gonna fuck you for less than a hundo.”
“Eat my ass, Petey! She’s a professional dick-tease. They’re all just looking for attention.”
I smell their overpowering cologne and vape scents before I see them and am struggling to get to my feet as they surround me on all sides like a pack of hungry wolves dressed in tacky button-up shirts with gold chains and loose-fitting slacks and loafers. By the looks of them, they’re hopeful Wall Street brokers or wannabe gangsters. And drunk off their asses, or worse.
“That was a rough fall, sweetheart. Need me to rub some Icy Hot on that for you?”
“I’m a certified massage therapist, ya know? I can work that leg realnice.”
“Matter of fact, the four of us could do some therapy on you if you’d like,” one of them suggests, curling his hand between his legs. “Make you forget allyour problems.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I say, trying to force a smile and not come off as what they might interpret as bitchy. But it doesn’t work.
All four of them frown in their own way and block my path as I try to head to my car.
“Whoa, where you going, sweetheart? Gonna act all innocent on us now?”
“Yeah, babycakes. We’re just trying to help. Why you gotta be like that?”
A hand reaches out and grabs me by the waist. I’m pulled close to one of them and am instantly overwhelmed by the smell of cheap cologne and body odor. The man licks his lips loudly as he whispers in my ear, “I saw you on stage. Bet you’ve got a pussy that could snap my dick off.”
“L—let go of me,” I stammer as panic hits my veins like a cold slurry.
“Relax, Anastasia,” one of the men mocks me as he steps into my view, his eyes hungry like a starved lion. “We’ll make it quick.”
His buddy laughs as he holds his crotch. “Speak for yourself.”
“I think you should get off of her.”
The sound of Ward’s voice sends a charge of joy through my body like I’ve been plunged into a warm bath. The men drop me and instantly whirl in his direction. I turn to see him step out of the shadows like a calm apex predator, hands casually in his pockets, eyes fixed on my attackers as he walks toward us without fear. Like a man who has already won the battle that’s about to begin.
And he is. These other guys just don’t know it yet.
“Ward!” I manage to gasp before falling to my knees.
“Oh, you want some, old man? Well, this piece has already been taken, so why don’t you just walk away?”
“We don’t have any little blue pills for you anyway, Gramps,” one of them snickers. “So just hop back in your wheelchair and head home.”
Ward’s expression doesn’t change as he steps up to the men and stops in front of them. “You don’t know who I am,” he says, almost amused.
“Should we?” one asks with a shrug. I shake my head, almost feeling sorry for them. Almost.
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"I was born in the East Indies, though at what place I do not now remember, and the very first thing I recollect is a dead tiger."
The scholar started as he heard these words, and turned his chair so as to bring him a great deal nearer to Agatha. He looked at her earnestly as she proceeded, and seemed deeply interested.
"I do not know how the tiger came to be dead, or how he came there at all," continued Agatha; "but he lay upon the ground in front of my father's house, and my mamma was persuading me to go near and look at him, telling me that he was quite dead and would never kill anybody again. I was dreadfully afraid at first, especially when my brother, who was a great deal older than I, got astride of the tiger's back and sat down; but after a while I let him take me on his knee. He made me look at the tiger's teeth and claws, and stroke the fur on his head, which was very soft and glossy; and I asked him to get me a little tiger to play with. By-and-by they took him away, and his skin was afterwards spread out on our floor."
"I remember having a Persian kitten with a bushy tail, and a beautiful black bird which could talk and whistle, and would swear dreadfully sometimes in spite of everything we could do to him; and I remember a great lizard which lived on a tree planted in a tub and covered with net-work. There were a good many colored servants about the house, but lighter and having straight hair, who dressed very neatly in white muslin. One of these belonged to me particularly. I used to call him my bearer. He was very good to me. He used to carry me about and do all sorts of things to amuse me, and I loved him dearly. But it is very curious that, try as I will, I never can remember his name, though I am sure I should know it in a minute, if I heard it spoken."
"Was it Cashirim?" asked the scholar.
"That was it! That was it!" exclaimed Agatha. "How did you know it?"
"Never mind now. Go on with your story."
All the rest of the party looked at the scholar in surprise, for he was very pale, and his eyes were fixed upon Agatha as if he would look her through. He took no notice of them, however, and again begged Agatha to go on with her story.
"I do not remember my father so very distinctly," continued Agatha, "and I think he must have been away from home a great deal; but I seem to see my mamma's face whenever I try to think of her. I never saw any one who looked the least like her. She had rather delicate health, and did not go out a great deal when my father was away. She used to teach me my lessons every morning. I was very happy in those days, and the first trouble I remember came from my brother's going away. He was quite a grown-up young man then, and he was always very kind to me, telling me stories and letting me ride out with him, for I could ride on my pony when I was a very little girl."
"A gentleman came to our house about that time, whom I was told was my mamma's brother, who had come all the way from America to see her. He was very lively and pleasant, and I liked him very much till he went away, and took Charley with him. Mamma told me that Charley had gone to America to be educated, and would come back to us after a while, but I never saw him again."
"Not a great while after my brother went away—I do not know exactly how long—came a very sad time. My father was an officer, and I used dearly to love to see him on horseback and dressed in his uniform. His men were Indians—irregular horse, I know they were called—and splendid, fine-looking men some of them were; but they were all very good to me, and much pleased when I chattered to them in their own language, of which I know a good deal."
"One day my father came home looking very much excited, and called my mother aside. What he said to her I don't know, but she gave a little scream and threw her arms round his neck. He kissed her, and I heard him say: 'Try to be calm, dear Julia, for my sake.'"
"After that she was very quiet, and went about giving orders, and seeing papa's things packed, as if he were only going away for a
day's shooting. When he had kissed us and bade us good-by, and we could not see him any longer from the veranda, mamma led me into her room and took me on her lap, where she cried and sobbed over me for a long time. Then she told me that papa was going to battle, and that we must pray to God to send him safe home again; and so we did, but he never came back any more. Two or three days after he went away, my father's orderly came galloping up to the house. He dismounted, and spoke two or three words to the servants as he passed through the veranda, at which they all broke out into loud lamentations. I knew what he said, for, as I told you, I had learned a good deal of the language. He said, 'Your master is killed!'"
"Mamma was lying on the couch in the inner room, with the blinds all drawn down, for it was very hot, and she was not well. I ran in to her, crying: 'Oh, mamma, my papa is killed!'"
"'What do you mean, Agatha?' she asked, rising and looking very pale. 'Have you been dreaming? Who has heard anything of Papa?'"
"At that moment Jones came to the door, and as soon as mamma saw him she guessed what had happened."
"'Is my husband dead, Jones?' she asked, as quietly as though it had been an ordinary question."
"'I am sorry to say it is too true, ma'am,' he replied; and then he gave her some letters to read, and turned away, brushing the tears from his eyes, for all my papa's men loved him. My mamma read the letters quite calmly, and then calling Jones' wife, who waited on her, and giving me into her charge, she went away into her own room, and shut the door. By that time the news was known all through the cantonment, and several of the ladies came to see my mother, but they could not do her any good. She just sat still in her chair, and did not speak or seem to hear one word that was said to her."
"'This will never do,' said the doctor, who had come with the rest. 'She must be made to weep, or she will die.'"
"'Go to your mamma and talk to her about papa, my dear Agatha,' said the chaplain's wife to me. I did as I was told, though I felt rather afraid. At first she did not seem to notice me, but by-and-by she burst into tears and cried bitterly for a long time. All the ladies seemed glad, and I thought this very strange. It seemed cruel to me that they should want my mamma to cry, but the chaplain's wife explained to me that they thought she would feel better after it. She was better, especially after the chaplain himself came and read to her and prayed with her. He was a kind, good man, and that night, he took me on his knee and talked to me a long time about dear papa. He told me what a brave soldier and what a good man he had been, and that he had no doubt of his being in heaven, where I should some time see him if I loved my Saviour as he had done. All this comforted me very much, and I have always remembered it."
"After this there was a great confusion, packing up, and selling off all our things. I was told we were going to England to see my father's relations, about whom I had never heard a great deal, for, when mamma talked about my uncle, she always meant my uncle in America, who had taken Charley."
"'Cannot we go to America, where Charley is?' I asked."
"'I hope we shall do so by-and-by,' she replied; 'but we must go to England first.'"
"We went a long, long journey in palanquins and on horseback, and down the river to Calcutta, where a great many people were very kind to us, for papa had distinguished himself very much in the battle where he was killed. Before long we set sail for England, leaving behind us all the servants except Jones, who was going home to see her relations. Oh, how I cried at parting with my poor bearer! I do not remember much about the voyage, except that it seemed very long. I thought only of mamma, who was very ill all the time, and grew worse and worse, till just a week before we reached England she died, and was buried in the sea. How dreadful it was to see my dear, dear mamma's body thrown into the deep water! It seemed so much worse than seeing her buried in the ground. I knew that she was in
heaven just the same, but still it has always been a grief to me that I could never know exactly where my father and mother lay, for papa was buried on the battle-field, and mamma lies in the ocean. They were all very kind to me on the ship, but I was very sad, and cried all the time; and Jones thought I would die too."
"Well, we arrived in London at last, and Jones took me to my uncle's house, which was a very fine one in a grand square."
"The drawing-room in which my aunt sat was the handsomest I had ever seen, but somehow it never looked pleasant to me. My aunt received me very kindly, kissing me a great many times, and telling me that she hoped I would be happy with her, but I could not help thinking that she did not look very happy herself. I grieved sadly at parting from Jones, but I was a little comforted by her promising to come and see me as often as she could. When she was gone, my aunt took me on her lap, called me her dear little girl, and asked me a great many questions about papa and mamma, and my brother Charles. It made me cry to talk of them, and before I had got over my tears my uncle came home. He was a big man with a red face and grizzled features, and I noticed that my aunt seemed frightened when she heard his step, and hastily wiped her eyes."
"'Hallo. What does all this mean?' he asked, as he entered the room and saw me sitting there."
"'This is my brother's little girl, from India, my dear,' she answered, in a timid, submissive tone."
"'Umph! And what is she crying for? We want no cry babies here, little miss. Quite enough of that sort of thing already.'"
"This was all the welcome he gave me. I felt as though I should choke, and heartily wished myself back in the ship. By-and-by we were called to dinner, which was splendidly set out in a beautiful dining room, hung with pictures. My uncle did not speak a word all through dinner, except to give an order or find fault about something; and my aunt hardly spoke except to ask what I would have. Even
then my uncle contradicted her, and said I was to take what was given me and not to choose for myself. It was plain even to me that he was in very bad humor about something. Presently my uncle said it was time for me to go to bed. So we left him drinking his wine all alone, and my aunt took me up to my room, where I was to sleep."
"It was small, but very pleasant, and there was a picture of a pretty little boy over the mantel-piece, which she told me was a portrait of my father, painted when he was young. Aunt undressed me herself, and heard me say my prayers, and after I was in bed, she sat down and talked to me in a very affectionate manner for some time. She told me she had no children of her own, and she would try to be a mother to me. She told me also that I must be very good, and try to please my uncle, who was very particular; and I promised to do my best."
"Try as I might, I never could succeed. He never had a kind word for me, end it seemed as if he were angry at my being in the house at all. My aunt petted me a great deal when he was away, but if she did so before him, he scolded her, and told her that she made a fool of me—that I should have to work for my bread when I grew up, and she was not to make me into a useless fine lady, like herself. Fool was his favorite word, and he applied it to my aunt oftener than to any one else. What made his conduct seem worse, was that before company, he treated us both with the greatest kindness and politeness; so that many people thought him the best of men. Indeed I heard a lady say as she went away from one of our dinner parties— my uncle often gave dinner parties—'What a pity it is that Mr. Morley has such a dull, cross-looking wife! He seems such an admirable man!'"
"I knew my aunt loved me, or I really believe I should have died of a broken heart. But she could show her love to me only when we were alone together. I had never seen Jones but once since she left me, when she had come to tell me of the loss of her husband, who died within a week of her leaving him. We were crying together over this sad news—for I loved all my dear father's men, and Jones had been
a special favorite—when my uncle happened to come in, and seeing me in tears, he ordered the servants never to admit that woman again, declaring that she made me a worse baby than I was without her. I tried to tell him what we were crying about, but it was of no use —he never would listen to any explanation. My aunt taught me my lessons, and I took great pains to please her, but I could hardly help hating my uncle, and I dreaded to see him come into the house."
"One day, however, he actually came home in a good humor, and eat his dinner without finding fault with anything. He spoke to me quite kindly several times, helped me plentifully to sweetmeats, and after he came into the drawing-room, he called me to him and made me sit on his knee, a thing which he had never done before since I came into the house. My aunt looked surprised and almost frightened, but presently she ventured to say:"
"'Agatha has been a very good girl to-day.'"
"'Has she?' said my uncle, 'I am glad to hear it;' and he actually put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a guinea."
"'Keep that and show it to your Yankee relations,' said he."
"'What do you menu, Mr. Morley?' said my aunt, turning pale."
"'I mean that I am going to send the child to her father's relations in America,' he replied. 'That woman Jones, of whom she is so fond, is going out to her daughter in New York, and she will take charge of her. So you have nothing to do but to get her ready as fast as you can. Let her have good clothes and plenty of them. I don't want the Yankees to think that she has been neglected: and mind, madam, I will have no whimpering about the matter. You can see plainly that the child is glad enough to go.'"
"I believe I was pleased at the prospect of going to America, for I thought I should see my kind uncle Hamblin and Charley again. But I began to moderate my joy when I saw how unhappy my aunt was at the thought of parting with me. She kissed me and cried over me that
night, calling me her only comfort; but when I said I would stay with her if she wished it, she told me that there was no use in talking about it—my uncle had made up his mind and would have his own way. Jones came to see us the next day, and had a long private conversation with my aunt, and so the matter was settled. All my old clothes were laid aside, and I had a complete outfit of new ones; and my aunt gave me five guineas in a little purse and bade me take good care of it. My uncle paid my passage and gave Jones money for my travelling expenses, after I should get to America; and my aunt made her promise not to leave me till I was in my uncle's hands."
"It seemed as though I was always to be unfortunate in my seavoyages, for before we were half-way across, the cholera broke out in the ship. We were in the steerage. My uncle had told my aunt that he had paid for a cabin passage for Jones and me, but it was not true. The surgeon as well as the captain and other officers did all in their power for the poor passengers, but many of them died, and among the number my poor dear nurse."
"There was a poor widow, named Mrs. Mix, who had been very kind to us all the way over, and Jones gave me into her charge, together with the money my uncle had given her, begging her to put me in the way of getting to my friends, which she promised to do. But it seemed as though I were to have nothing but trouble in my travels. In the bustle and confusion of our arrival in New York, my trunk was lost or stolen, and I never saw it again. This was all the worse, because all my money and my uncle's direction were in it. Mrs. Mix had the direction from my nurse, but she had forgotten it, and I did not know it at all. Mrs. Mix had expected her friends to meet her in Now York, but they did not come, and after a few days, she received a letter from them, telling her how to find them. They lived in Greenbriar, and thither she went, taking me with her."
"The surgeon offered to get me into an asylum in New York, but this she would not hear of: so I went with her into her little house, and used to help her carry home the washing which she took from the
school. We thus became acquainted with Dr. and Mrs. Bower and told them my story; and Mrs. Bower adopted me for her own daughter. I have lived with them for three years, and been very happy all the time. That is the end of my story."
The scholar had been listening silently, never taking his eyes from Agatha's face for the whole time, As she closed her narrative, he took from his breast a miniature case, opened it, and handed it to Agatha without a word.
"My papa and mamma! My own dear papa, and mamma!" almost screamed Agatha. "Oh, where did you get them? Did you know my mamma? Do you know my brother?"
"Agatha!" said the scholar. "Do you remember that not very long before Charles went away, he was thrown from his horse and got a scar on his forehead?"
"Yes!" answered Agatha, breathlessly. "Why?"
The scholar pushed back his thick hair, and showed her a scar upon the right side of his forehead, asking, "Do you remember me now?"
"Charley! Oh, Charley!"
In another moment, Agatha was in her brother's arms. I will not undertake to describe the scene which followed. Presently the scholar rose, and taking Agatha by the hand, led her into the room and closed the door behind them.
"How strange!" said the old lady. "It seems as though there was a Providence in it; your coming out of the way as you did, and even in your being snowed up, since if it had not been for your stopping here and our telling stories, they might not have found each other out after all."
"There is a Providence in all things," observed the doctor, taking off his spectacles and wiping them; "'All things work together for good to them that love God,' though we do not always see the working so plainly as in this particular instance."
"Agatha noticed her brother when we first came on the cars," remarked Herbert. "She said she was sure she remembered him, though she could not tell where she had seen him: and I observed that he took a great deal of notice of her. He kept looking at her all the time he kept talking to me. I hope he won't want to take her away from us! I don't know what my father would do without her, especially now, that—" Herbert stopped abruptly and turned away his head.
"I would not worry about that, my dear," said the old lady, kindly. "I dare say the matter will be managed, somehow. I guessed something when he asked her if that was not the servant's name."
"And so Agatha has really found her brother, that she talks so much about," said Frank. "What a fine-looking man he is! I wonder if he is rich?"
"I hope not, and then he won't want to take Agatha away," said Edward.
"O Ned, that would be selfish!" replied Herbert. "Her brother has the best right to her, of course; though—but we won't borrow trouble about that. How glad I am, Frank, that we came this way. Only for your mistake, Agatha might not have found her brother at all."
"No thanks to me, though!" said Frank, laughing.
The conversation was now interrupted by the return of the scholar and Agatha. They had both shed some tears, but they looked as though they were perfectly happy in each other. The scholar sat down, still keeping his arm round Agatha, as though afraid of losing her again.
"You will be glad, no doubt, to hear a little farther explanation of my sister's story," said he, after they had received the congratulations of the party.
"I should!" said Edward. "I want to hear who your father was, and how you came to leave him, and all about it."
The scholar smiled. "My father was an English officer," said he. "When he was very young man, and in Canada, with his regiment, he married a young lady, the daughter of an American sea captain. I have understood that his family were very much displeased with the match, and, his father dying soon after, left the whole of his property to his step-daughter, a lady much older than my father, who had married a London merchant. My father was very fond of this sister, but her husband, as well as my grandfather, professed great displeasure at the match my father had made, and would not allow my aunt to see her brother, though they were permitted occasionally to correspond."
"Captain Goldwin accompanied his regiment to India when I was fourteen years old, and there Agatha was born. My father had no income but his pay, and his expenses being necessarily great, he found himself unable to send me to England for education, so I grew up without any except what he was able to give me in the intervals of military duty, and what I got from the resident chaplain. Still I had a great fondness for study, and employed my time to pretty good purpose."
"I was eighteen years old when my uncle came to India, partly on business and partly to visit his sister. He proposed to my father that I should return with him to America, finish my studies at one of the colleges in New England, and then, if it were thought desirable, return to India. The offer was a very advantageous one to me, and my father allowed me to accept it. Before I left, my mother gave me the miniatures I have just showed Agatha, and I have never parted from them."
"In the course of two or three years, I heard of the death of my father, who fell in battle, as Agatha told us, and learned that my mother had set out for England, intending to come to her friends in America. Hearing nothing more for a long time, I wrote to my aunt in London. Her husband answered the letter, saying that my mother died before reaching England; that he had sent the child—meaning Agatha—to her friends in America, under such and such an escort, and supposed she had reached her destination."
"I went at once to New York and made every inquiry, but my efforts resulted only in disappointment. At last I learned that the cholera had broken out in the ship and that a great many of the passengers had died,—among them a woman named Jones and her little girl. This account seemed to render the matter hopeless, and I gave up all further inquiries. Agatha's face interested me at once from her resemblance to my mother, but supposing, as I did, that my sister was dead long ago, I should not have pursued the matter had not her story awakened my long dead hopes."
"The mention of the dead tiger struck me like an electric shock, for I remembered the incident directly and how hard I had begged to be allowed to go with the party that killed him. He was a famous maneater, as they are called—that is to say a tiger which, having acquired an appetite for human flesh, will eat no other. Such animals are frequently found in the neighborhood of East Indian villages, a great terror and pest to the inhabitants, and, in this case, the officers stationed near had made a hunting party to kill him. As Agatha went on, I felt certain that she must be my lost sister, and her instant recognition of the miniatures would have confirmed me, had I by that time entertained any doubt. My great desire is now to see Dr. Bower and thank him for his kind care of my little darling."
"It grows late," remarked the squire, after a little pause, and looking at his watch. "We have had a very pleasant evening and it has come to a most happy conclusion. We will now have prayers, if the good doctor will be so kind as to read them."
CHAPTER VII.
CONCLUSION.
EARLY the next morning the whole household was astir at Cedar Hill. The children were up and dressed before daylight, wishing everybody "Merry Christmas," and running all over the house, except into the dining room, where the old lady allowed no one to set foot but herself. By-and-by they had prayers in the parlor and the children sung two or three Christmas carols, accompanied by Miss Hope on the piano.
Then the dining room door was opened and they marched in procession to the table. It was set out in great state, and there, before every one's place, was a mysterious pile, carefully covered by a white napkin. Grace was said, and then the piles were all uncovered.
What wonders were disclosed! Books and toys for the children, all sorts of pretty and useful things for everybody. Not one of the strangers was forgotten, but each received a nice present, all the nicer from being wholly unexpected. Abundance of presents had been provided for the grandchildren of the family, besides those which the doctor had in his trunk for his own little flock; and Harry, May and Annie were only too glad to divide with their new friends.
A man had been sent over to the railroad station early in the morning. He returned with the news that no train could possibly get through before next morning. So it was decided that the big lumber sleigh should be got out once more to take the whole party to church in the village, about a mile off. Before church time, there were several private conversations held in the house. Agatha, with Herbert and her brother, sat in a corner of the parlor talking of their family affairs. Miss Hope was closeted with the old lady in her room, and Frank, with some embarrassment, requested to speak with the doctor in the library.
"I wanted to ask you, sir," said he, looking down, "if you thought it would be wrong for me to go to the communion this morning? I am to be confirmed at Easter, at any rate, and—I am so thankful for the way everything has turned out—and—I know I am not good enough, doctor, but I want to be a better boy, and I do love Him!"
"You know, Frank, what is said in the Prayer-book," said the doctor, kindly. "I say nothing of the Rubric, because you have just told me that you are 'ready and desirous to be confirmed;' but here is the invitation. Examine yourself by it. Do you truly and earnestly repent you of your sins?"
"Yes sir, I hope so."
"And are you in love and charity with your neighbors?"
"I believe so," said Frank. "I hav'n't any enemies that I know of, so I hav'n't anything to forgive, and I should be very wicked indeed if I did
not feel kindly towards every one this morning, after God has been so good to me."
"And do you intend to lead a new life, following the commandments of God, and walking from henceforth in His holy ways? Think well before you speak."
"I have been trying to do so this long time, doctor," said Frank. "I get discouraged a great many times, but I have not left off trying."
The doctor asked Frank a good many more questions, tending to test his knowledge of Christian doctrine and of his own heart. Frank had been carefully instructed, especially since his residence with Doctor Bower, and the doctor, who was accustomed to dealing with young people, was quite satisfied with his answers.
"Well, my son," said he, at last, "from all that you tell me I can see no reason why you should not draw near with faith and take your part in the feast of love. In the sense of sin-lessness no one is worthy, but any one who repents and believes, placing all his hopes of salvation upon the great atoning sacrifice of Christ our Lord, may safely take this holy sacrament, to his comfort. But how is it with your companions?"
"Oh, Herbert has been a communicant these two years, and Agatha since last Easter. She was so little and looked so young that the bishop was in doubt about her; but he examined her himself and was quite satisfied."
"I am glad to hear it," said the doctor. "I advise you, Frank, to spend the hour between this and church time in prayer and rending."
The doctor marked certain chapters for him, and Frank remained alone in the library till all were called to go to church.
"Isn't it nice?" said Annie to Agatha, as they sat together in the sleigh, coming home. "Grandmamma has been talking with Miss Hope, and she is to stay and be my governess! You see, it is too far
for me to go to school in the village, especially in winter, and there is no one to teach me music or French. But grandmamma has found out that she used to know Miss Hope's mother at school, and—oh, I can't tell you all about it, only Miss Hope has no home now, and no money, and she was going to try for a place in a public school. But now she is going to live with us. That will be a great deal nicer for her, won't it?"
"Yes, indeed!" said Agatha, hastily; "and nicer for you, too. Miss Hope seems such a pleasant young lady. I liked her the very first minute I saw her."
"And she will be company for grandmamma too, you know," continued Annie. "Oh, how glad I am you got snowed up and came to our house!"
"And so am I," replied Agatha, smiling.
In the evening the sleigh was again put in requisition, and all the young party went down to the village to attend the Sunday-school festival. Agatha's story had already become known, and she received a great deal of attention, almost enough to turn the head of a little girl of thirteen: but her brother, who watched her closely, was delighted to see that she preserved through all the quiet and ladylike demeanor which had so pleased him from the first.
Herbert could not but feel sad at even the distant and uncertain prospect of losing the sister he had learned to love so much; but he, tried hard not to be selfish, and to rejoice in her joy. As for Frank and Ned, they were ready to be pleased with everything. Ned found a congenial playmate in the clergyman's son, a frank, manly boy of his own age, who was expecting to go to Doctor Bower's school after the Christmas holidays. Frank was graver than usual, but his face wore a look of subdued happiness very pleasant to see.
The next morning early came a message from the station-master that the train had been telegraphed and would be through in less than an hour. All was bustle directly. The old lady filled a famous
basket with cakes, cold chicken and other good things, lest the children should be hungry on the road. All the children from Cedar Hill accompanied the guests to the station, and bidding good-by to their kind entertainers, the children and the doctor were soon in the cars and on their way to their homes.
At J—, Agatha expected to separate from her brother for a little while. Mr. Goldwin intended to follow Doctor Bower to New York, and Herbert gave him a letter of introduction to his father, with some account of their meeting. It was hard for Agatha to separate from her brother even for a few days, but she tried to submit cheerfully, exacting from him a promise to write to her directly, and somewhat comforted by the miniatures of her father and mother which were left in her care.
To the joyful surprise of Frank and Edward, the very first person they met on stopping from the train at J— was their father. The non-arrival of the children, together with the appearance of their trunks, caused great surprise at home, and Judge Landon telegraphed at once to Greenbrier to find out the cause of their delay. Ascertaining, after considerable trouble, that they had taken the wrong train and were probably snowed up somewhere on the road, he came over to J— in hope of further intelligence, and arrived half an hour before the train came in. Of course the whole story of the mistake had to be gone over, and I am happy to say that Frank bore the laughter of his friends with perfect good humor. Indeed, as it turned out, he could afford to do so, though, as he justly observed, there were no thanks due to him.
Herbert and Agatha passed their Christmas holidays very pleasantly at Judge Landon's, and towards the end of them they were agreeably surprised by the appearance of Doctor Bower and Mr. Goldwin.
Agatha was perfectly happy at seeing her father and brother together. She had made up her mind, as she said, "they would suit each other exactly," nor was she disappointed in her expectation. Her mind had nevertheless been a good deal disturbed by the
thought that she must be separated from one or the other of them. She felt that she could not live apart from her brother, and yet she did not know how to leave the kind doctor, who had been a father to her when she was left alone in a strange land. This consideration had caused her a good deal of anxiety, which was destined soon to be set at rest.
"Good news, Agatha!" cried Herbert, one morning, after the doctor and Mr. Goldwin had been closeted together for some hours. "It is all settled! Father has just told me all about it. You are not to go away from us, and yet you are to live with your brother, too. Isn't that splendid?"
"But how, Herbert?" asked Agatha. "I don't understand."
"Why, you know my father has been wanting a partner."
"I did not know it. But never mind. What then?"
"He says the entire charge of the school is rather too much for him," continued Herbert. "He is not so young as he has been, and he wants time to study and to work at the big book he is writing. It was partly that which took him to New York. He wished to see a gentleman who was recommended to him. But when he came to see the gentleman, he found that they could not agree at all, and he was just considering what to do when your brother arrived. You know, I told you that they had been at the same college, and when they came to compare notes, they found that they knew a great many of the same people. Father wrote to some of the professors about your brother, and they all agreed in saying that he was exactly the man he wanted for the place. So they have been talking the matter over again this morning, and it is all settled."
"But, Herbert, I don't quite understand yet."
"Why, Mr. Goldwin goes into partnership with my father in the school, and will take most of his classes off his hands. So, of course, he will have to live with us."
"I see!" said Agatha. "How glad I am! You don't know how I have been worrying about it all these holidays."
"Yes, I do," returned Herbert. "I have seen it all, and I felt just so, but I could not help hoping it would all come right, somehow. I am so glad! You know mamma wanted father to have a partner."
"Oh, I do wish she was here to see Charley!" said Agatha. "Would she not be glad, if she knew?"
"Perhaps she does," replied Herbert, in a low voice. "At any rate she will know, some day."
When our young friends returned home Mr. Goldwin accompanied them. Doctor Bower found his labors greatly lightened by his new assistant, who fell in with all his plans and methods for the improvement of his pupils, and the boys were delighted with their new master, who, though sufficiently dignified and strict in school, was a famous ball player and gymnast, and was a perfect magazine of stories and plays for rainy days.
Miss Hope remained at Cedar Hill as governess to little Annie and companion to her grandmother, and enjoyed the double pleasure of finding a happy home in her loneliness and making herself useful to the dear old lady, who was much alone, now that all her daughters were married.
The doctor is well, and is at present looking forward to the pleasure of having all his young friends together at his own house for the next Christmas.
Hoping that these same holidays may prove as pleasant to my young readers as they are likely to do to the children of whom I have been writing, I wish them a merry Christmas and a happy New-Year, and bid them a kindly farewell.
