Chapter 2

I clenched the crumpled fifty dollars in my pocket, lifted my head, and looked at my father. “Dad, I've eaten your food for eight years, and I've worked for eight years too. I don't owe you a thing. Today I'm going to fetch my uncle, and if you won't claim me as your daughter, then don't.”

My father shook with rage, and his pipe cracked down against the flagstones.

He kicked out at me. “You ungrateful thing! I'll beat you to death, you traitor of a little animal!”

I dodged to the side. His foot met nothing, and he nearly pitched over the threshold.

The commotion in the yard woke the stepmother in the back room. She came out with a jacket thrown over her shoulders, leaned against the doorframe, and cooed her fake little counsel. “Oh, come now, why work yourself up like this? If she wants to go, let her go. Who can stop a person set on getting herself killed!”

I knew exactly what she wanted. She was hoping I'd go fetch my uncle so she'd have her excuse to keep me out of the house for good and save the food for her son.

I had no patience left for their play-acting. I pulled open the gate and walked out.

Just then my father's cursing carried out on the wind. “Cordelia, if you leave, don't come back! As far as I'm concerned, I never had a daughter like you!”

I didn't turn around. That suits me fine, I thought. As far as I'm concerned, I never had a father like you.

I followed the rutted dirt road toward the edge of the village.

The sky slowly brightened, dawn washing half of it red.

As we'd agreed, I gave Merlin Lambert, who drove the ox cart, ten dollars to take me to the prison.

Merlin looked at me and sighed. “Cordelia, the way your father is, once you go, you likely won't ever be able to come back... You sure you won't think it over?”

I sat on the straw in the cart, gripping the forty dollars left in my pocket, and gave a small smile. “Merlin, if I can't come back, then I can't. There's nothing in that house worth holding on to anyway...”

Hearing that, Merlin let out a long sigh and dropped it. He drove the cart out of the village.

3

The sun was nearly overhead by the time we finally reached the prison gate.

I bowed to Merlin, pressed the ten dollars into his hand, and stood at the gate to wait.

Before long the iron gate rattled open.

I searched the faces one by one, eyes wide.

I looked for a long while before I finally saw that familiar figure.

My uncle was much thinner than before, but his back was still straight as ever.

When he saw me, he froze for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

The same smile I knew, his eyes curving.

He walked over quickly and asked, “Cordelia, your father didn't give you a hard time, did he?”

I gripped the forty dollars left in my pocket, and the words caught in my throat and wouldn't come out.

I let the tears well up in my eyes.

I fought with everything I had to keep them from falling.

I knew my uncle didn't like to see me cry.

He watched me holding back the tears, and he lifted his hand and gave my forehead a light flick.

“Look at you, all grown up. You've learned to be strong.”

That did it. My tears spilled over all at once, dropping one after another.

My uncle said nothing more. He just clapped his hands lightly.

A moment later a green jeep drove straight up in front of us.

I was stunned on the spot.

In all my life, it was the first time I'd ever seen a car.

I opened my mouth to ask what was going on.

But he spoke first. “Sweetheart, they've taken the class-enemy label off me, and your grandfather's family name is cleared too... Don't you worry! With me here from now on, no one can bully you ever again. Come on, ride back to the village with me. We're going to set things right!”

I stood beside the jeep, clutching the hem of my clothes, and for a long moment I couldn't take it in.

Never in my dreams had I imagined my uncle would be exonerated, or that I'd ever ride in a car.

“What are you standing there in a daze for? Get in, we're going back to the village...” My uncle pulled the door open and reached out to haul me into the car.

The driver was a young man in a jacket. When he saw me he gave a proper little nod and said, “Miss Henson.”

It startled me so badly I ducked behind my uncle.

In all my life, who had ever called me Miss?

In the village, they either called me “the jinx,”

or “the unwanted stray girl.”

My uncle saw me standing there so uneasy and hesitant, and he smiled.

He patted my head gently. “Don't be afraid. Our Cordelia was always the eldest daughter of the Henson family. You'll have to get used to it...”