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The woman snapped, “Away with you, lad! You’ll not be stealing my family’s supper!”
Casey cringed at the woman’s virulence and backed away, her face flushed. But she was desperately hungry, so she looked for another prospect. The crowd of shoppers was thinning and some stalls were closing, so there were fewer choices.
Ah, that elderly man buying potatoes and onions and dropping them into a worn canvas bag. He had a cane hooked over his arm, so maybe he’d be grateful for assistance.
Approaching warily, she asked, “Sir, do you need help carrying your market bag?”
He turned to look at her, and his pale blue eyes had a power that seemed to scour her soul. She froze, wondering if she should flee.
But his voice was kind when he replied, “Aye, a bit of help would be useful.” He handed her the bag, which was heavier than she expected.
She hesitated and studied his energy again. Yes, he was safe as well as kind. Gripping the bag with both hands, she followed him down the street. It was almost full dark, and they walked several blocks before reaching a small cottage.
The man paused to unlock the door before turning to her. “You look like you could use a hot meal. If you come inside, I can give you soup and toasted bread.”
Hot soup and bread! The thought was almost too much for her. She briefly weighed her hunger against her sense of the man before saying, “I’d very much like that, sir.”
He opened the door and led her into a simple kitchen. A table, two chairs, several shelves containing utensils and simple food containers. Best of all, it was welcoming. Seeing the dim glow of hot coals on the hearth, she asked, “Shall I stir up the fire, sir?”
“Yes, please. My knees aren’t what they once were.”
She knelt by the banked fire and stirred it, adding more coal from the bucket and using the bellows to increase the heat. “I’m called Casey, sir.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Casey. I’m James Harris, usually known as Jamie, and I work in the dockyard office.” He lit a lantern, then swung a kettle over the fire. “Lentil soup with vegetables and a bit of sausage. It will take a few minutes to warm up. Would you like to toast some bread?”
She swallowed hard. “I would, sir.”
He unwrapped half a loaf of bread and cut several slices. “There’s a toasting fork hanging by the fire. Feel free to eat the first piece of bread before you toast any.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harris.” She wolfed down the first piece. It tasted so good!
She began toasting other slices. While the kitchen warmed, Mr. Harris poured two mugs of ale and set them on the small table. He said mildly, “It’s usual to remove one’s hat when dining.”
She froze a moment, then reluctantly removed her hat. Her host blinked before saying, “Your hair is a very pretty blond, but distinctive. Is that why you want to hide it, so you won’t be noticed?”
Biting her lip, she nodded.
“I know a simple hair coloring that will make your hair look an unmemorable brown,” he said.
“I’d like that,” she said in an almost inaudible voice.
“It’s easily done.” Since the soup was warm, he ladled out two full bowls and they settled on opposite sides of the table.
She’d never in her life tasted anything better than his lentil soup.
When she finished her bowl and three pieces of toast, Mr. Harris said. “If you’d like more, lass, help yourself.”
She froze like a frightened rabbit.
Seeing her reaction, he said softly, “You’re a young girl, and gifted. I’d wager you were thrown out of your home.”
Her voice was a croak. “H-how did you know?”
“I’m also gifted. As you’ve learned, many people resent those of us who have abilities they don’t understand. I was driven from my home when I was even younger than you are now,” he replied calmly. “I’ve helped others like you. My house is a sanctuary for as long as you wish to stay.”
As tears stung her eyes, she reached across the table and clutched his thin right hand in both of hers, sensing years of kindness and safety ahead of her. “Thank you, Mr. Harris,” she whispered. “And God bless you!”
CHAPTER 2
