Free Happily Ever After by Tanya Anne Crosby Page B

head down again.
    Eager
beavers these young apprentices were—annoyingly eager, at that!
    “But
sir ... it’s just that... you’ve a telegram!”
    Harlan
lifted his head once more. “A telegram?”
    The
boy nodded and came forth, offering it.
    “Well,
don’t just stand there! Give it to me!” Harlan demanded.
    The
youth handed it to him and scurried out before Harlan could dismiss him. That
simple disrespect irked him.
    He
opened it.
    It
said simply: missed the boat. your
telegrams are on board. they’ll be burned first time they use the stove. don’t
want your blood money.
    It
was from Shorty.
    Letting
out a string of oaths, Harlan bounded up from where he lay, fury engulfing him.
“Suffering idiot!” he shouted, and ripped the telegram in half.
     
     
    Sophie
knew they were working hard on deck: She could hear them laboring without rest
and without complaint as she sat on her bed and sketched diligently.
    The
camaraderie between the men was easy and full of banter, and she found herself
feeling quite the outsider among them ... and not a little bit envious.
    She
couldn’t help it.
    She
couldn’t remember ever having such an easy fellowship with anyone at all, not
her parents, not her friends, not even Harlan. Always she had been on her best
behavior, afraid to show anyone anything other than what was proper, or what
was expected.
    And
in truth, she’d had reason to be afraid. She was an anomaly, wanting things
that were hardly conventional for a woman of her position.
    Though
she wanted desperately to make her parents proud, some little part of her had
admired Harlan’s rebellion against his father. His parents had wanted him to
become a lawyer, to replenish their coffers, since his own father’s career had
nearly broken them. Harlan had defied him, following in his father’s shoes,
despite the protests, and some little part of Sophia had wanted to follow his
example.
    Some
little part of her still did.
    While
Sophie had snuck out to search for ferocious shark’s teeth with the little boys
of her age, her friends had all been busy learning their manners and reciting
the beatitudes. As adults they had become so very somber—no giggling with
their heads together over anything at all, while Sophie still dreamed of
attending the university and studying Plato’s Ethics or the origins of nature
and the limits of human knowledge.
    But
it was an impossible dream.
    Her
father would never permit it. Their world was an unforgiving one, and a woman’s
duty was to be a proper showpiece at all times.
    How
dare Harlan belittle the interest she had shown in his work!
    How
dare he make light of her intellect!
    It
was as though he didn’t believe her capable of meaningful thought.
    It
was as though he had entirely dismissed her because of her gender.
    She
had thought he respected her more, but she was a fool for believing it, because
all the signs had been there. She had only refused to see them.
    She
didn’t want to be a wretched showpiece; she would die inside. But she would
certainly become one if she married Harlan.
    All
her friends—every one—as mistresses of their own homes seemed to
have metamorphosed into their mothers, ready to raise their daughters in the
same manner in which they had been brought up. She looked into their eyes and
saw but a remaining flicker of that curious fire every child is born
with—boy and girl alike. For a time, it had nearly smothered within
herself. She could see that now.
    Only
now, when she should be weeping with grief over Harlan’s betrayal, did she feel
truly alive for the first time in so long.
    She
could feel.
    And
smell.
    And
see.
    And
it was quite likely melodramatic to think so, but she could do these things
with far more clarity and intensity than she had experienced ever in her life.
    She
sighed wistfully, feeling restless.
    She
had completed the first sketch of Jack and set it aside, determined to capture
his essence on paper. Somehow, every time she finished one,