The bed shook as her father coughed.
Was he laughing? It’d be so like him. Her head shot up.
He smiled. “If I had a choice, I’d stay alive.”
How could she be so selfish? She wiped her eyes. At her age she should have known better. Ten was quite old, after all, but right now, she felt like a baby—his baby, and he was leaving her.
She scooted closer, desperate to take in every word, clinging to him over the bedcovers.
He ran his finger down the bridge of her nose. “Don’t cry anymore. You must be brave.” He gulped in air. “You will live with your uncle Horace, your mother’s brother, and he will take care of you. I’ve arranged for him to provide for your needs and your education.” He turned his head and panted for breath then expelled a long wheeze.
His face turned bright red against his light blond hair while he coughed. He was so thin, and his skin so pale. He no longer looked young and full of life like that day on the ship’s deck.
He cleared his throat. “Just do as your uncle says and be a good girl.” He coughed. “It’s a shame . . . he never married,” his words came out in spurts, “then he would . . . have a wife to mother you.”
“I don’t need a mother, Papa. I just need you.”
“You have to be strong.” He wiped a tear from her cheek. “No more tears.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“I wish I could send you back to Amsterdam. But no one is left. It’s just you and me.”
Just you and me.
“Oh, Papa!” She wailed. How could he leave her alone? “Please don’t give up. Jesus will heal you! He’ll make you better.”
“It’s not the Lord’s will.” He fought off another attack.
She waited and watched him battle for breath, his blue eyes now watery pools of gray. His words made her heart, like the ship, sink even further. He wasn’t just going away for a short time, he was going away forever. Her throat hurt as she fought back tears, trying to stop crying.
He looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get over this, little one.” He wheezed. “Just know I’m proud of you. If only I had more time . . . more time to teach you.” He coughed. “Remember, I may be leaving, but the Lord is always with you. You won’t be alone.”
“Yes, Papa.” She hugged his chest again, trying to swallow the knot that formed in her throat.
She wouldn’t cry.
~*~
The heavy tray quivered as Anna set it on the small table in the study. She felt his gaze on her, watching her every move. When she first met Uncle Horace, he reminded her of Mama. They had the same eyes. Even though she’d never met her mother, she recognized the similarities from photographs. She’d felt less troubled when she’d noticed the likenesses, but immediately learned that those outward similarities where all that existed.
Anna picked up the porcelain teapot and tipped it over a cup. The hot liquid gushed out from its weight. She caught the long spout with her hand, burning her fingers and filling the cup much closer to the brim than she’d intended.
Her gaze darted to her uncle, who thankfully grinned at the lovely Mrs. Craw, missing the slight blunder. She set the heavy teapot back on the tray next to the dishes, her hands trembling and her arms aching. With clammy fingers, she lifted the cup and saucer then held it out for Mrs. Craw.
“No. Sugar!”
Startled, Anna jerked to the sugar, sending the cup over the saucer and onto the hem of Mrs. Craw’s gown. The dishes clattered on the table as she grabbed the tea towel to wipe off Mrs. Craw’s dress.
“You horrid little creature!” Mrs. Craw slapped her, sending stings of pain across her cheek.
Anna put a hand to her face and turned to Uncle Horace who sat across from them.
His eyes blazed, and a frown darkened his threatening face.
It had been two months since her arrival, and she still hadn’t found a way to please him. She held her breath.
He stood from his chair and lunged toward her.
Anna raised her hand to block his swing, but he grabbed her arm, yanked her to her feet, dragged her out of the room and down the carpeted hallway. “You stupid child. I ought to throw you on the street for what you’ve done.”
The stairs leading down to the entry hall appeared before her. She clung to his arm.
He pried her loose. “Get off me, you little terror!” He tore her hands free and threw her down.
She missed the first step then tumbled down the others. Her shin caught between the rails of the banister, and she jerked to a stop. Pain shot through her leg as she dangled from the rail halfway down the stairs.
Uncle Horace turned to Mrs. Craw as she came up behind him. Her large hoop skirt swung up far enough for Anna to see her bloomers. “My husband believes I’m taking a stroll in the park.” Hands on hips, the woman glared at Anna. “How am I going to explain this tea stain?”
Anna’s hands trembled as she leaned up to pull her leg free. Would Uncle Horace come after her again? She grasped the rails and climbed to her feet.
“I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” He marched down the stairs, black eyes blazing, and grabbed her by the hair.
She screamed and shuddered. “Papa!”
He dragged her through the hall. “Papa’s not coming. He never loved you anyway.” They passed the grand parlor, and he shoved her into the small bedroom behind the kitchen.
She tripped but caught herself on the bed.
“Gather your dresses. All of them.”
With quivering hands, she opened the wardrobe and collected all her garments. There weren’t many, since her uncle had only allowed one trunk of her belongings when she moved in.
“Take that off,” he said, pointing to the dress she wore.
Anna hesitated.
“Now!”
She got out of her dress as quickly as she could. Heat crawled up her neck to her cheeks as he stood watching. Glimpsing herself in the mirror, she noticed how thin and naked she looked.
Carrying her dresses, ready to surrender to whatever punishment he chose to deal out, she came to the door in only her chemise.
“Come,” he said.
Favoring her bruised leg and trying not to trip over the dresses, she hobbled behind him back up the stairs. It was difficult keeping up with his long strides.
When they returned to the study, Mrs. Craw stood glaring at her with thin lips turned up as if in smug satisfaction.
Uncle Horace snatched the dresses out of her arms.
One at a time, he tossed all her lovely gowns into the large fireplace. The flames exploded and then calmed as they melted away the beautiful silk and crinoline fabrics.
“Nay,” Anna whispered as she sank to her knees. Her father had given her those dresses. They were all she had.
“There are maid’s uniforms hanging in your wardrobe,” her uncle said, beads of sweat covering his flushed forehead. “You will wear those.”
“They don’t fit me, sir,” she whispered, thinking about the adult clothing that hung there.
“Wear them!” He clenched his teeth. “Now go.” He pointed to the door. “I don’t want to see your sniveling face again.”