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Serenity sighed in sudden regret. Not at being different. Nay, she would never regret that, but what ached inside her was her inability to agree with her father’s wants and desires where she was concerned.
When had they become so different?
There had been a time once when she and her father had been close, inseparable. Atime when he had agreed with her about such matters as women taking on an important role in the emerging American utopia. Of women being well educated.
Her mother’s death had changed all that.
Still, he did support her writing in his own way. In spite of his complaints and harsh remarks, he did publish her stories, and those he refused often found their way into theDispatchanyway. And though it irked him when she published a story behind his back, he had yet to banish her from the office for it.
Maybe it was foolish of her, but she liked to think that in some way he was proud of her and that was why he allowed her to continue working for him.
“Here,” he snapped, laying more papers on the desk before her. His brow drawn into a stern frown, he crossed the room to the coat tree to retrieve his hat and overcoat. “I need those edited by the end of the week.”
“Yes, Father,” she said quietly as she watched him shrug on his overcoat.
He gave her one last imperious scowl before reaching for the brass doorknob.
Rubbing her eyes beneath her spectacles, Serenity nudged her cat from her lap and sat forward.
“And get rid of that blasted stray!” he snapped an instant before he slammed the door shut behind him and braved the pouring rain.
Pris lifted her nose in the air and gave an indignant sniff as if she’d understood his order.
“It’s all right, girl,” Serenity said. “You know I’ll never get rid of you.” With a haughty flick of her tail, Pris headed off toward the back of the shop.
Suddenly the sharp scent of ink stung Serenity’s nostrils, distracting her from her father’s words.
Serenity froze. Surely she hadn’t smudged ink against her cheek or eye again. Not today of all days! Not with a party that very evening.
It had taken a month for the last smudge to wear off her skin. Mr. Jones, the baker, had thought it a black eye and had given her father dirty looks for weeks.
She laughed at the thought. Though gruff, her father would never hurt her. At least not physically, though there were times when his caustic remarks did sting as much as a blow.
If only she could find some way to prove herself to him. To prove to everyone that Serenity James was just as capable a writer as her brother.
“Oh, Pris,” she said to her cat. “What I wouldn’t give to have a great lead. To find the one story that would also rivet the entire country!”
She sighed in sudden defeat as she watched her cat sit in the corner and clean her right paw. “Who am I kidding?”
Wiping a towel soaked with turpentine against her cheek, Serenity swept a glance to the work surrounding her. “Dreary. My whole life is nothing but dreary drudgery. I can editmen’sarticles, but no one trusts me to write them.”
She would probably live and die right here in this office, shuffling paper, reading exciting stories about exciting people, while the only excitement she could look forward to was a few fireworks on the docks during celebrations and holidays.
And if she werereally lucky, she thought sarcastically, Charlie Simms might join her.
She shivered at the very thought of the gangly coopersmith who could never take a hint that she had no interest in him. He was nice enough, but he had the type of wandering hands that kept her hopping.
And breath that would shame a frightened polecat.
Sighing, she set her towel down on the desk and gazed longingly out the bay window covered with droplets of rain, toward the docks filled with people who had lived incredible lives. People who had seen incredible sights.
Oh, if she only had a tiny bit of the courage her idol Lady Mary Wortley Montagu possessed. To marry for love and travel the world, learning languages, visiting harems!
What she wouldn’t give to be swept away from her endless monotonous cycle of home and work. To find a dashing dark pirate who would come and spirit her away to far adventures the likes of which she could barely conceive.
Serenity laughed at her immorality. Her father would have an apoplexy if he even suspected she held such a notion.
“If only it could really happen…”
