It appeared that Maisie learned her lesson after our encounter in the hall. Since I had to slap her, she did not scream. Her attitude changed, and she was pleasant during dinner. Clara was much more comfortable with the idea of having Maisie in the house, especially since she was not crying and begging to leave. After Miles brought Maisie upstairs, Clara spent all evening discussing the recipes she wanted to share with her new daughter-in-law. Since Emily died, I had not seen her so happy.
Clara had gone to bed, but I stayed in the living room. I poured myself another glass of whiskey. By the morning, the alcohol would have worn off and my mind would be sharp. Right now, I was the only one awake so I could afford to have my thoughts cloudy. Everything was coming into place.
The oil lamp sat beside my open novel on the table. I had read the story countless times, so I did not have to concentrate on the words. I could recite the majority of the plot by memory. My focus was on the delicious burn of whiskey.
My glass stopped halfway to my mouth when I heard the stairs creak. Initially, I thought it was Clara. She sometimes worried when I stayed up late, but she had learned not to bother me. Whoever it was did not walk down the stairs at a normal pace. Each step was spread out, and there was a pause between each creaky step. The person was unsuccessfully trying to sneak out downstairs. I ran my hand down my face and groaned. It had to be Maisie.
Was her pleasantries all an act? Was she trying to sneak out in the middle of the night? Why would she try to be difficult and plan on leaving?
I set my glass down next to the book and followed the noise into the kitchen. The moonlight poured in through the windows. Maisie's figure walked across the kitchen and over to the back door without checking her surroundings. She did not see me in the hallway.
"Maisie," I said.
She jumped and spun on her heels. Her hand covered her chest as she stumbled back a few steps. In the dark, I could not decipher the details of her face, but she let out a small gasp. Was she terrified? If she was scared, she knew her plans were wrong.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I could not sleep," she said. "I wanted something to drink."
I walked across the kitchen, but Maisie did not move. Was she still thinking about running away? If she tried, I was confident I would be faster. I grabbed a glass and my bottle of whiskey. Even in the dark and with a hazy mind, I knew where my alcohol was located. After pouring a glass, I waved my arm and motioned her to follow. She did not move.
"Come with me," I said.
"I should go back upstairs," she said.
"I thought you could not sleep."
Maisie let out a deep breath before stepping away from the door. She followed me down the hall to the living room. Once we were in the light of the oil lamp, I could see that she was wearing Emily's blue dress again. I smiled, knowing that Miles had not given her anything to wear to sleep in. There were doubts, but he went through with it.
I held the whiskey out toward Maisie. She looked up at me, confused. I pushed it closer to her, but she still did not take the glass.
"It's for you," I said.
"I don't drink alcohol," she said.
The corner of my lips tugged into a smile.
"It seems like you spent a lot of time in that tavern," I said. "I would be surprised if you never had some whiskey. If you prefer bourbon, I am all out right now."
Maisie glared as she took the glass. She tried to hide her trembling hands. I sat back down on the couch. Maisie stood in the doorway, watching me as I closed the novel. She looked down at the whiskey before walking into the living room. I moved down, expecting her to sit beside me on the couch. She sat on the rocking chair across from me.
"How do you like it here?" I asked. "Do not lie to me."
Maisie bit down on her lip and was unable to make eye contact. She ran her finger along the bottom of her glass. Her mind was choosing her words carefully. She was a smart girl.
"It's different," she said.
"It's better," I said. "You're safer here."
"I was safe before."
"No." I shook my head. "Maisie, I saw that man at the tavern. You were terrified of him. He was going to hurt you, but I kept you safe. I brought you here so that would never happen to you again."
Maisie sighed. Her shoulders were slumped forward. She could still not look at me because she knew I was right. I saved her from her life.
"You did not deserve any of that," I said. "You did not deserve to be abused by disgusting older men. You deserve to be with a family that loves you and will always care about you. Haven't you always wanted a husband and children?"
She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. Her finger did not stop running across the bottom of the glass. The circular motion of her finger must be providing some relief from her emotions. My words had an impact on her delicate mind. I had to keep reminding her we were giving her a family. We were a family. She would soon realize that she loved being here.
"This where you belong," I told Maisie. "This is the best thing to happen to you."
She shook her head. Her eyes remained closed. I leaned forward on the couch so my elbows rested on my knees. She mumbled words under her breath, but I could not understand what she said. I took a drink of my whiskey as I watched her struggle to deny her feelings. She knew I was right. I was always right.
"Maisie, look at me," I said.
She let out a shaky breath before looking at me. Her eyes were glassy with tears. Her chin was not raised confidently like usual. Instead, she seemed so much smaller as she was crumpling into someone new. Was she breaking down? We could shape her into the perfect person for this family.
"We love you," I said.
"You don't," she said. "We spoke briefly, and then you drugged me."
"It was quick, but I saw a lot," I said. "I saw you had a good heart, and your values were in the right place. Maisie, you must be aware that I saw more than just yourself. I saw your situation. I saw you were trapped in an absolute hell. You were unable to escape that life without us. I knew we could give you the love you deserve."
Maisie looked down at her glass. I smiled when she took a sip of the whiskey. Her face did contort in disgust at the burn of alcohol. I knew she was lying when she said she did not drink. Alcohol numbs the pain in the best ways possible.
"It was not that bad," Maisie said.
"Not that bad?" I chuckled before finishing my whiskey. "You were spreading your legs for every man in that tavern."
Maisie pushed back her shoulders and straightened her posture. She was able to maintain eye contact with me again. Her chin was held high in an attempt to appear brave. Where did this courage come from?
"For the rest of my life, I will be spreading my legs for your son," she said. "Is that a better fate?"
Her voice did not waver in fear. I scowled and balled my hands into fists. When she was afraid, her mind was easier to teach and change. Focusing on my breathing was difficult, but I did not want my anger to explode. My slap earlier today fixed her attitude momentarily. If this were going to last, I would have to make her feel loved and not scared.
"Do you not see the difference?" I asked. "Those were disgusting men that paid for your body. They did not care about you. They only cared about their own pleasure. Miles is not like that at all. He is going to love you and take care of you for the rest of your life. He is going to be your husband and he will be the father of your children. He is giving you a family."
Once again, Maisie broke eye contact. She was struggling to keep her brave attitude. How long would she be fighting us? How long would it take her to see that she was a Wilcox?
Maisie placed her hand on her stomach. Her gaze was focused on the whiskey. She swirled the alcohol in the glass before swallowing it in one gulp. Leaning forward, she set the glass down on the table before standing. She smoothed her skirt with her hands. I raised a brow as I watched her. She was incapable of looking at me in the eye.
"I should go back upstairs," she said.
"Why are you awake?" I asked, giving her a chance to confess.
"I was thirsty," she said. "Thank you for the drink."
She was going to maintain her lie. She would have snuck out the back door if I had not caught her. How far could she have gotten if I had not noticed? If she tried to leave again, I would have to put locks on all the doors. I would have to trap her inside until she realized she belonged in this house.
"I wouldn't go outside at night. It's not safe in the dark," I said. Her eyes widened, realization washing over her that she had been caught. "You won't get far before the coyotes tear you apart. It is a terrible way to go."
Maisie rushed out of the living room without saying anything. I sighed and leaned back on the couch. I listened to her footsteps as she went up to Miles's room. The door closed, and I smiled.
Miles's room was silent for the rest of the night. There was no screaming or crying.
This was going to work. I saved this family.