Glancing her way, he asked, “Will you get the blame for it?”
Cassie shrugged. “If the jar is broken, you may have to find another jar on the shelf. Are you sure you want to help? I’m fine with getting it myself.”
“Absolutely. You stay here, and I’ll return in a second.”
Walking down the steps, he could fully imagine how much it must have hurt when she fell and felt guilty for his lack of chivalry and willingness to help this girl. When he’d first seen what happened, he’d taken a second to debate the rationale of helping.
What if she recognized him? What if it through him even later getting to the sign-up camp? What if…
The questions had plagued him as he approached the edge of the woods. However, he hated not living up to the lessons he’d been learning over the last five years. So, he’d made his way through the trees and bushes to do the right thing.
“Did you find it?” she called.
Ashamed, Simon used the light, and the feel of his hands to locate the jam. It was relatively unharmed from the fall from what he could tell, unlike the girl, and seemed secure in the jar it had been encased.
“Yes, it’s safe and sound. Did you need anything else?” He retrieved it from the floor, wiped the excess dirt away, and headed back up the stairs.
“No, thank you! It’s the only thing I needed.”
At the top, he could see the girl with the frame of bright light at her back. Her hair now took on the color of maple, which he hadn't really noticed, and it was hanging down her back. This, too, added to her childlike appearance.
She must be fifteen at the most, Simon thought, and I was ready to leave her behind. This was the type of child he was going to battle to protect. If he could even think of leaving her behind, maybe his father was right about him.
“Here, it is.” He handed it to over, and she took it with a wince.
For a second, he wished he could summon his physician to her side. That wasn't an option however. So, he did what he thought was best. After closing and locking the doors, while listening to her thank him again, he turned and lifted her into his arms.
“Wha—” she started to say, but gasped and became silent.
“I'm sorry to be so forward,” he started. “However, you are in pain, and I think it only wise to find the nearest chair. May I take you into your home to do so?” he asked, even as he walked to the back door.
She wasn't heavy and hardly felt like much in his arms. Obviously, she was too little to defend herself against her siblings. He heard her call them “step,” so that must mean they were not blood-related. He had heard this made a difference at times with how youngsters treated each other. How they could abuse such a little thing was beyond him however. He’d never have thought to do such a thing to his own “sisters.”
“I can walk.” Cassie felt her face turn red.
Already she had a feeling Aven and Petunia would make something out of a stranger carrying her into the house. Plus, he was handsome, and this would guarantee Petunia hanging all over him. Her stepsister loved to be the center of all male attention, especially someone as handsome as Simon Rupert.
“You can put me down,” she tried again, but the stubborn man wouldn't listen.
He knocked on the door, and when he received no immediate entrance, opened it awkwardly while still holding her and shoved the door wide.
“This will do.” He sat her on a kitchen chair with great ease.
Cassie, except for feeling humiliated, became sad at the loss of his arms. They felt nice. Just a little. She shook those thoughts away as her side brought itself to attention again.
Simon set the jam on the table and stood looking down at her.
“Do you have an ice house? I could get you some.”
“It's unnecessary. I will attend to it later. I’m fine, thank you. I need to start supper.” Cassie tried to stand, but he blocked her way.
“I think not. First, you should tell me your name because I have yet to learn it, and next I think, we should get you taken care of immediately. You look in pain.”
Struggling not to hit Mr. Rupert on the head with the jar of jam, Cassie took a deep breath, winced, and sighed. Maybe he was right. Holy mackerel.
“My name is Cassidy Alasdair, but I go by Cassie. This is the house of my father, Lachlan Alasdair. I’m sure he would thank you for helping me and wish you to stay at our home. However, I’m well. I can rest while getting supper underway.”
“I can start,” Simon told her, surprising them both.
“I can't allow you to do that,” Cassie told him.
“Miss Alasdair, it would be a pleasure. I want to help. Besides, aren't you a little young to oversee supper. Aren't your step-siblings older?” he asked her as she stood.
“Yes, but mama asked me to do it. I’ve been cooking for a few years, and I'm seventeen. Plus, mama won’t be pleased to see a stranger at her stove. Please seat yourself and leave it to me.” Cassie reached for the jam jar as he protested and held it out of her grasp.
“You need to rest. Set yourself down and direct me to the pans.”
“No,” Cassie stood her ground and glared.
She appreciated his help, but being told what to do in her own home was pushing things. She was shoved around by Aven and Petunia enough as it was, not to mention Miriam. She would not allow this Simon person to do the same, even if he was trying to help her.
“Yes,” Simon stared into the green eyes which now seemed to resemble a cat ready to claw.
He was familiar with cats from his stay at his mentor's home. He hated cats. However, Cassie's eyes were quite bright and pretty, unlike Avinnie's and Horatio's. In fact, they looked a little sparkly, and he found himself staring at them.
Finding it hard to believe she was seventeen, since she certainly didn't look it, Simon cleared his throat and nodded. However, with the spark in her eyes and the tilt of her head as she bossed him around, Cassie did look older.
“No.” She took a step back and crossed her arms in front of her with only a tiny wince this time.
Simon caught it though. He saw her left eye twitch and her mouth tighten. Both of those things helped him hold his ground and the jam higher.
“Miss Alasdair, sit down.” He turned and grabbed a pan from the side of the counter and set it upon the stove. Making himself at home in her kitchen, Simon washed his hands at the wash bucket.
Feeling grateful she had brought up the buckets of water before gardening, Cassie hobbled up beside him and began to wash her hands as well.
“Has anyone ever mentioned to you how stubborn you are, Miss Alasdair?” he politely inquired.
“Once or twice,” Cassie replied with proper snootiness.
“Good,” Simon told her and resumed his preparations.
Cassie worked beside him. She wasn't going to let a guest who saved her do all the work himself. There were a lot of pauses, and even though Simon caught them, he refrained from commenting. Cassie began to like him for that reason alone.
Simon then began fixing the pancake batter she'd set out earlier. They worked several minutes in silence starting to create happy smells within the kitchen before she heard footsteps in the hallway.
The evil ones were arriving.
Cassie set the table and awaited for their entrance.
Now Simon would meet Petunia. He'd become enamored with her. She would treat him like dirt when she was finished with him, but he'd still worship her.
“Is this where you keep the salt?”
Cassie startled at Simon’s voice and inhaled sharply. Turning, she saw him holding up the glass shaker in the air. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“I thought so,” he told her before turning back to the stove.
“Please tell me you aren’t putting salt in the pancake batter?”
Simon chuckled and shook his head. “Not at all. I thought I’d be familiar with where it is for the potatoes. You’re making those too, right?”
She nodded w
hen he pointed to the handful setting on the counter. Frowning, she didn’t recall taking the potatoes out of the pantry. The fall must have taken more out of her than she realized.
“Got it. You can sit down, Cassie. I’ll be happy to work on this. It’s like being home again,” he said, while thinking almost.
“It’s fine,” she said, even as she heard the familiar creak signaling her step-siblings feet in the living room.
They were approaching, and soon, Simon would be smitten with Petunia and forget about her. The thought made her want to cry. He was really a nice person. She didn't know anything about him, except for the fact that he'd saved her from hours in the dark and was willing to help her fix the evening meal.
How many men would do that? Few, if any. Her new friend was about to become an old one.
Oh well, Cassie thought with a sigh as Petunia and Aven entered the room with smirks, which they lost as soon as they saw Simon.
“Who is this?” Aven asked rudely.
“My friend,” Cassie told them.
“You have a friend?” Petunia sneered in Cassie's face. “Well, hello, friend,” she sarcastically spoke to Simon.
Cassie was surprised at the taunt Petunia was giving to Simon, until he turned around. Cassie watched the transformation come over Petunia's face. She went from snarling brat to simpering sweetheart in two seconds.
“Hello,” Simon said to her in a cool tone.
Cassie glanced between all of them. His response was unexpected.
“It's sooo nice of you to help our little stepsister out.” Petunia continued. “She is so clumsy she needs all the help she can get. Aven and I positively worry about her.”
Petunia didn't see the look on Simon's face, or she would have stopped talking. Cassie saw it though, and so did Aven, who had started to back toward the sitting room.
“She just can't do anything by herself. I, for one, hope she grows out of her childish ways before she harms herself irrevocably. Seventeen is such a spinsterish age to be defective.” Her voice dripped false sweetness.
Cassie continued to feel the pain of her body's bruises, but it became muted compared to the sting in her heart. Petunia loved to put her down in front of others, especially men. Normally this would be the time the man in question would fall into Petunia's arms and agree with her about everything.
She waited for it to happen with bated breath and eyes fixed on Simon.
“I'm sure Cassie is capable of taking care of herself, just as I’m sure that if you and your brother were really concerned for her, you wouldn't have pushed her into the cellar. She could have been hurt or killed. You both were thoughtless.” Simon's eyes reminded her of something sharp and pointy.
The brown seemed to have darkened black around his pupils. Cassie felt afraid for a moment until she remembered his anger was on her behalf. She started to breathe again. Her ribs weren't as impressed as the rest of her.
Petunia lost her syrupy grin and took a step back as well. It was amazing to watch a total stranger have the air and manner to jostle Petunia.
Cassie wanted to smile and almost did. Almost. She knew she'd be in even bigger trouble once he left, if she did.
Probably time to step in now, she thought.
“However, I‘m fine,” Cassie told them with a smile. When they all turned to look at her though, she wished she hadn't said a word.
Simon's eyes burned like a black sun, Petunia pinched her lips - a clear indication of her fury, and Aven glared.
The giddy feeling of being stood up for and having a friend evaporated under their wilting gazes.
“Supper will be ready soon. I'm sure father will be here within the hour,” she continued. “Any requests?”
“Yes. Don’t burn anything. You might also want to clean yourself up before supper time.” Petunia gave one last dig, glared at Simon, and turned on her heel to leave the kitchen. Aven followed in her wake.
“That was a bit of excitement, I'll say. You sure know how to make friends. Although, I think they'll be plotting my death now.” Cassie tried for a light, airy tone.
Simon continued to look at her with those black eyes. Cassie bit her lip and waved a hand in front of his face, pulling her ribs at the same time. He saw her frown.
“Sit down,” he barked at her.
So much for us being friends, Cassie wanted to say aloud. A slight dizzy spell had her sitting in the nearest chair and letting out a sigh.
“Good,” Simon said, in a rather self-satisfied way and went back to work.
Cassie glared as he continued cutting potatoes and preparing a large mix of pancake batter. Then, she called to mind Petunia's rebuke: You might also want to clean yourself up before supper time.
Oh no.
5
Where did she go? Simon turned to examine the kitchen, checking its nooks and crannies.
Cassie had disappeared. Leaning back from the counter, pausing in his slicing, he caught her by the back door.
What can she be doing?
He backed up a few steps and saw her scrubbing some dirt from her face. Lips pressed together, he resumed his place in front of the stove and continued to cut the potatoes into the skillet.
Cassie was back a few minutes later with a clean face and tamed hair. Simon acted as if he hadn't noticed her absence and placed the potatoes and onion into the skillet. Heat sizzled, and he began to turn them.
“You did the pancake mix just right,” Cassie commented from his side.
“Thank you.”
The door opened, and a man walked through.
“Whoa-ha!” the man exclaimed in a surprised little way. “I see we have a guest,” he said, with a glance in Cassie's direction.
“Yes, this is Mr. Rupert,” Cassie glided forward a few steps and waved in his direction, wincing again.
Simon stepped forward with a smile and his hand stretched out. So, this little man was Cassie's dad? He could see the resemblance from their small builds to their bright green eyes. Where Cassie's green was sparkling, this older gentleman's eyes were a bit out of focus and hazy.
Their hands met in a firm shake, and Simon took a step back to observe the little man. The dimness appeared to clear from his eyes for a few minutes as he took the young man in, gazing at him from head to toe.
“Mr. Rupert, this is my father, Mr. Alasdair. Mr. Rupert insisted on assisting me with supper when I told him he could dine with us.”
“It would be a pleasure to have him have supper with us. It’s been awhile since we’ve had company,” her father said, and put his hat on the dresser in the corner.
“Thank you, sir,” Simon paused in stirring and smiled.
“He mentioned going to the signing camp in the morning, and I told him you were as well. I thought he could accompany you?” Cassie ended with the question, hoping she had done the right thing.
“Absolutely, Cassie, me-dear. I would be pleased to have you join me in my short journey, Mr. Rupert. Thank you for assisting my dearest girl. I sometimes worry she has too much upon her shoulders.” His voice was weak but cheerful, lines around his eyes and mouth joined together as he squinted and grinned.
“No worries, sir. Thank you for allowing me to stay here,” Simon replied with a slight bow, watching what was going on before him.
Cassie stood for a moment and just stared at her father. Simon spotted the astonished look on Cassie's face as he glanced her way. Her countenance had him tilting his head and watching her eyes. They were wide and looked wet, as if she were about to cry.
Cassie shook herself and took a short breath.
“Father, would you like me to get you your slippers and pipe?”
“No, Cassie, me-dear. I will attend to those myself. It smells as though supper is ready. Shall I call the others?”
“Yes, father. Thank you,” Cassie uttered.
Her father exited the kitchen, and she could hear him whistling. This had her turning toward the doorway. She stared at the opening her father had disap
peared through for a long time before continuing her work.
In silence, Simon followed her lead. They had set the table with full plates just as a woman, who must be her stepmother, entered the back door as well.
“Well, Cassie, I hope supper is ready to go, and you haven't burnt anything this evening,” were the first words out of her mouth.
She turned from hanging her bag and saw Simon. “Who is this?” Miriam asked, her tone stern yet considering.
“This is Mr. Rupert, mama. He has assisted me with supper as a thank you for offering him a place to sleep tonight. He, too, is going to the signing camp and will accompany father. Mr. Rupert, this is my mama, Mrs. Alasdair.”
Simon nodded and bowed to her while giving a “pleasure” in response.
“I see.” Miriam's tone took on a slight snotty quality as she assessed Simon's worth.
His clothing, looks, and stature spoke of influence. However, joining the war didn’t bode well with Miriam. She felt only commoners were the most eager to join. The tilt of her head exposed her face and showed her youthful appearance as well as her disinterest in learning more about their guest.
“Have Petunia and Aven been informed?” She asked next, as she seemingly dismissed Simon.
“Yes, mama.”
“Very well. Is your father in?”
“Yes,” Cassie answered, as her stepmother walked to the doorway.
“Well, I will go greet him and gather the children.” She swept out of the kitchen with a distracted nod and large bag tucked against her side.
“The chil-dren?” Simon sputtered.
He found his right lip curled up, and his eyes widened in response to her stepmother's attitude.
“Yes. They are her children.”
“Well, her children are old enough to know not to knock their younger sibling down a cellar. Has she taught them this valuable fact yet?” An angry note crept into his words.
Cassie shrugged, then gasped and sighed.
“I almost wish I didn't have to leave you.”
Cassie looked at his eyes. They were no longer black but rich brown. “You don’t know me. I can take care of myself.”
The Four Tales Page 5
