temptation?
“Now, let’s get that cat of yours before the haint does,” he said.
Pushing through the unlocked door, Bailey walked into the dark building.
———
The creaking hinges sent chills up Molly’s back. She didn’t believe in ghosts. Not usually, but sunset in the questionable part of town wouldn’t be the time or place to learn she was mistaken. Boards creaked as she felt her way further into the house.
“Bailey, don’t go by yourself.” Molly tiptoed to the nearest window and slid the tattered curtains open, making use of the last of the sunlight. “Can you hear me?”
No answer came from the dark hallway.
The girl at the door peeked in. “He’s d-dead. The haints got him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” But why didn’t he answer?
Molly crept closer to the giant stone fireplace, trying to hide herself between it and whatever lurked in the shadows of the hall. Footsteps sounded, coming toward them. The child’s eyes grew large, and Molly backed into the fireplace to hide.
“Meow!”
Something landed on her neck.
“Bailey, help me.” Molly streaked across the dusky room screaming and swatting at her back. “Some beast has a hold of me. Get it off.” She touched something hairy and screamed again.
“It’s not a beast,” the girl cried. But if it wasn’t an animal, Molly’s ideas about the afterlife were shattered.
Bailey ran into the room and removed the life-threatening menace, but not before it hooked a slender claw in her neck.
Bailey handed the kitten to the little girl, who cradled it in her arms. She kept her grasp on the now fuzzy sticky bun, choosing to let the three-cent piece drop on the scuffed floor instead.
“You best keep your money, miss. If you don’t know the difference between a kitten and a haint, you might should spend less time in front of the mirror.” She spun on her bare foot and marched proudly out the door.
“The little ingrate.” Molly was appalled but bent to retrieve her coin nonetheless.
Bailey chuckled.
“I don’t expect you to be as insulted as I am, but would it pain you to hide your amusement?” she said. “Surely you don’t approve of such haughty behavior in children.”
“Absolutely not. Someone needs to take her down a peg . . .”
Molly nodded.
“. . . before she grows up and some poor fellow falls in love with her.”
Molly drew a heart with the toe of her boot on the dusty floor and then rubbed it into oblivion. “I thought you’d sworn off talk like that—to me anyway.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Talk like what? I’m merely discussing the failure of a child’s mother to teach her values. I didn’t say which child. There’s many a lesson to be learned when confronted with ill behavior.”
“You sound like Reverend Stoker.” Molly reached up and gingerly touched her hat. “Did that churl destroy my bonnet?”
“I’m more worried about the scratch. Let me see.”
He took her by the elbow and turned her from him. Molly felt his fingers trace a tender path from her hairline to her collar. She stood absolutely still, waiting until he was finished to breathe again.
“It’s too dark to see, but it raised a line. You’d better get some iodine on that before it scars.” He stepped away.
“Serves me right, venturing across the canal.”
“It’s not that bad. The McGraws have a nice house—and look at this place. Even a beginning blacksmith could afford this.”
“But you aren’t smithing anymore.”
“There are other jobs. I hear they’re looking for a bailiff.”
“Too late. I met the new man today.” It was the truth, but maybe she could’ve said it a little nicer.
Bailey seemed to pull from his inexhaustible reserve of optimism. “So I’ll find something else—butcher, baker, candlestick maker—they all have houses and families. You don’t have to live on San Antonio Street to be happy. There’s nothing wrong with starting small.”
Replacing an
“Now, let’s get that cat of yours before the haint does,” he said.
Pushing through the unlocked door, Bailey walked into the dark building.
———
The creaking hinges sent chills up Molly’s back. She didn’t believe in ghosts. Not usually, but sunset in the questionable part of town wouldn’t be the time or place to learn she was mistaken. Boards creaked as she felt her way further into the house.
“Bailey, don’t go by yourself.” Molly tiptoed to the nearest window and slid the tattered curtains open, making use of the last of the sunlight. “Can you hear me?”
No answer came from the dark hallway.
The girl at the door peeked in. “He’s d-dead. The haints got him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” But why didn’t he answer?
Molly crept closer to the giant stone fireplace, trying to hide herself between it and whatever lurked in the shadows of the hall. Footsteps sounded, coming toward them. The child’s eyes grew large, and Molly backed into the fireplace to hide.
“Meow!”
Something landed on her neck.
“Bailey, help me.” Molly streaked across the dusky room screaming and swatting at her back. “Some beast has a hold of me. Get it off.” She touched something hairy and screamed again.
“It’s not a beast,” the girl cried. But if it wasn’t an animal, Molly’s ideas about the afterlife were shattered.
Bailey ran into the room and removed the life-threatening menace, but not before it hooked a slender claw in her neck.
Bailey handed the kitten to the little girl, who cradled it in her arms. She kept her grasp on the now fuzzy sticky bun, choosing to let the three-cent piece drop on the scuffed floor instead.
“You best keep your money, miss. If you don’t know the difference between a kitten and a haint, you might should spend less time in front of the mirror.” She spun on her bare foot and marched proudly out the door.
“The little ingrate.” Molly was appalled but bent to retrieve her coin nonetheless.
Bailey chuckled.
“I don’t expect you to be as insulted as I am, but would it pain you to hide your amusement?” she said. “Surely you don’t approve of such haughty behavior in children.”
“Absolutely not. Someone needs to take her down a peg . . .”
Molly nodded.
“. . . before she grows up and some poor fellow falls in love with her.”
Molly drew a heart with the toe of her boot on the dusty floor and then rubbed it into oblivion. “I thought you’d sworn off talk like that—to me anyway.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Talk like what? I’m merely discussing the failure of a child’s mother to teach her values. I didn’t say which child. There’s many a lesson to be learned when confronted with ill behavior.”
“You sound like Reverend Stoker.” Molly reached up and gingerly touched her hat. “Did that churl destroy my bonnet?”
“I’m more worried about the scratch. Let me see.”
He took her by the elbow and turned her from him. Molly felt his fingers trace a tender path from her hairline to her collar. She stood absolutely still, waiting until he was finished to breathe again.
“It’s too dark to see, but it raised a line. You’d better get some iodine on that before it scars.” He stepped away.
“Serves me right, venturing across the canal.”
“It’s not that bad. The McGraws have a nice house—and look at this place. Even a beginning blacksmith could afford this.”
“But you aren’t smithing anymore.”
“There are other jobs. I hear they’re looking for a bailiff.”
“Too late. I met the new man today.” It was the truth, but maybe she could’ve said it a little nicer.
Bailey seemed to pull from his inexhaustible reserve of optimism. “So I’ll find something else—butcher, baker, candlestick maker—they all have houses and families. You don’t have to live on San Antonio Street to be happy. There’s nothing wrong with starting small.”
Replacing an
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