My Wild Irish Rose

Part 17

Anne walked to the post office on her way home from school. The postmistress didn't look up from her worn copy of Oliver Twist as she approached, so after a moment Anne stepped a little closer. "Ma'am?" she began.

"One second," replied the woman, her pudgy fingers fiddling with the page. Anne waited a long, excruciating moment, until the fingers found their way to the corner and folded it over, dog-earing the page and closing the book. Finally, she looked down at Anne. "Name?" she asked monotonously, clearly unhappy to be taken from the world of Dickens.

"MacEilan," said Anne, and the postmistress turned her dark eyes to the shelves. Only one letter was thrown on the counter, address down, and the postmistress opened her book again, brushing one caramel-colored frizz behind her ear, but failing to put it back in the bun atop her head. It only took the woman a few seconds to open her book again.

"Thank you, ma'am." It fell on deaf ears, but Anne said it anyways.

She picked up the letter and started to walk away, flipping the paper over to read the address.

Miss Emma MacEilan

Running Creek, Colorado

The handwriting was familiar, somehow, like an old friend, but not quite- well, friendly. It was then that another line of the neat penmanship caught her eye, written hastily into a corner.

Charles Petersen

Denver, Colorado

*****

"Emma!" Most of the time her calls would have been friendly, but this time Anne meant business. Emma had evaded the question of the mysterious Charles Petersen for far too long now. "Emma, I want to talk with you!"

"What's so urgent?" Emma appeared in the doorway as Anne approached the house. "Can't you wait until you're inside?"

In response, Anne held up the letter, now to the door. "Emma, this Charles Petersen- he's not just a friend, is he?"

"He's not."

Anne's jaw dropped. "Is he-" She was uncontrollably curious about her sister's correspondent. "Emma, what on earth is going on? Who is he?"

"Remember the doctor? How we paid him five dollars?"

"Of course," Anne replied, still confused.

Emma drew a deep breath. "Anne, he took much more than five dollars."

"What?" Anne scarcely dared to breathe. They hadn't been poor, but they hadn't been wealthy, either. Five dollars to the doctor had been a serious blow to the family's savings, but more gone? It would devastate them. "I counted just the other day," she whispered. "Emma, we still had twenty dollars in the box!"

Emma shook her head. "We did the other day. It was two days ago that I counted again." She looked Anne straight in the eye. "Anne, when I didn't hand you any money and said it was because we didn't need anything, it was a lie." Emma exhaled sharply, her fingers twisting around each other. "It was because I didn't have any to give you."

Anne rushed into the house, pushing Mary aside to get to the chest they kept their money in. A hand grasped her arm, and she looked up to see her older sister.

"What do you think you're doing, running madly around the house? Anne, 'tis not ladylike." Mary laced the last sentence with sarcasm, but Anne didn't notice. She tore her arm from Mary's grasp and opened the box, fumbling with the latch.

The box had never been full, but Anne had gotten used to the sight of a few coins and a small roll of bills. They were gone. The only thing left in the box was a sense of despair.

"How did this happen?" she asked, her voice trembling. When Emma didn't give an answer, she asked a different question. "How does this have anything- anything at all- to do with your jo?"

"That's what you think Mr. Petersen is?"

"Of course- well, 'tis what we assumed." Anne turned red. Mary didn't have a jo- why on earth would Emma? "What does it have to do with him?" she pressed, trying to get back on track.

"Mr. Petersen is the son -in -law of a rich old woman in Denver. For a while, when I went to school here years ago, he was visiting an aunt here. That's how we met- but he was much older than we were! A few months ago his wife's mother became ill. She needed a maid, and Mr. Petersen thought I'd be right for the job. With this-" she gestured to the still -open box "-we need money more than ever. This has to be his reply."

"Emma, we have Iain in Denver. You don't need to go too! We need you here for the harvest!" Anne couldn't believe what she was hearing. Emma leaving too?

"The harvest won't be for months! And besides, Iain can't send us as much money anymore. He's married now," Emma reminded her gently. She gently took the letter that Anne still held and opened it. Mary had gone outside somewhere, and as Emma read her letter, she noticed that only Lizzie sat in the house, calmly reading a book.

"Lizzie?" asked Anne, just for conversation. Although she didn't care much for money, what had been stolen was far more than mere coins.

"I don't want to be called that anymore."

Anne went to the little girl's side, grateful to have someone to talk to, but still a bit taken aback. "Well, what do you want to be called, then?"

"My full name. Elizabeth."

"Alright, Elizabeth, what brought this on?"

"The main character in this book is named Elizabeth, and I want to be just like her." Lizzie -Elizabeth- showed Anne the cover of her book. She must have gotten it from school, as the meagre collection that the MacEilans boasted didn't have a single title dealing with Queen Elizabeth of England.

"She was a real person, you know."

The girl looked up with a great interest. "Really?"

"She was a great queen a long, long time ago."

"That's wonderful!" said Elizabeth, then she sobered. "It was my mother's name, too."

Emma closed her letter before Anne could reply to Elizabeth. "Anne, I'm terribly sorry," she said, going towards the shelf where she and Anne kept their things. "I leave in the morning to work for Mrs. Remigrant in Denver."

Emma has a job now! Was it the doctor that took all of their money? I'm super excited to write the next few chapters!!

Also, Elizabeth will not be the final pseudonym of Lizzie Jones. I'm gonna have fun with this. It makes my day to have people vote and comment, please do that and tell me what you think!

~Megan