Time & Tide - Original Wattpad Version

Chapter Fourteen: In Which Jessie Rebounds

I wanted to find some way of paying my benefactors back. 

Reliance on Francis, and the result of his trying to settle my debt had taught me that while people here and now were filled to the brim with proper Christian kindness, money was a huge concern and taking care of the needs of just one extra body could be disastrously expensive. Reverend Jenkins' parishioners, having heard of my 'tragedy' (lost her family, almost forced into marriage with a monster, crippled, poor dear, how romantic!), arrived daily with condolences and company and gifts of food and snacks. 

They just wanted to gawk at the strange girl with the short hair and the funny accent, with one good hand and absolutely no manner - and I was okay with that because it made the time pass and Mrs. Jenkins laugh, and it filled her pantry with winter apples and haunches of pork jellied something-or-other that I didn't look too closely at.

But I wanted to be something more helpful than a sideshow attraction, so on the morning of my fifth day there, I went into the kitchen after their one maid had cleared the table, and grabbed the broom handle from her hand with my left one.

"Miss!" she said, absolutely horror-struck.

"Look... Miss... uh," I said, stupidly. Oh my god, what an asshole I was. I had never even asked.

"Martins," she said, with a little head dip.

"Miss Martins," I said with a nod. "Miss Martins, I might be a little gimpy, but I am perfectly capable of wielding a broom. If nothing else, I'm not going to be an extra burden on the Jenkinses."

"But it's not proper, Miss," she protested.

"Fuck proper," I said gleefully. "I'm going to sweep, and I'm going to help you do up the dishes, and then," I said with an eyebrow waggle at her horrified blush, "I'm going to make lunch."

"No, Miss," she murmured, but she was smiling. "It would certainly make my load lighter this morning, but you cannot."

"Fuck proper," I said again, just to watch the delicious way that Miss Martin's ears turned pink, the way her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

* * *

"These," I said triumphantly, "Are called hamburgers."

I settled the platter down on the luncheon table in front of Mrs. and Reverend Jenkins, my right hand tucked behind my back. "Did you... make these yourself?" Mrs. Jenkins asked, a slow blush creeping up her neck. The reverend was looking at the plate, clearly curious.

"There's a speciality of my homeland," I said, to acquit Miss Martins, who was standing silently beside the door to the room, of any wrongdoing. "I wanted to make them to show my thanks for your hospitality."

Both Jenkinses grinned and I showed them how to pick up the burger without a fork and knife. Miss Martin and I had already each had one in the kitchen, giggling as the ketchup had squeezed out the back of the buns and plopped onto our aprons. Of course, this ketchup wasn't at all what I was used to - it was made with mushrooms instead of tomatoes, seasoned with pepper and ginger and allspice. It still worked though.

"This is... really, rather refreshing!" Mrs. Jenkins admitted, chasing a leaf of lettuce around the inside of the bun with her teeth. "Quite amusing!"

"I'm glad you think so," I said, sitting at the table and enjoying the show. "I was afraid you would've thought it was undignified."

"Tosh," the Reverend said.

"Tosh, indeed," I agreed, happy to have found at least one household in England that didn't have a stick up its ass.