The Prince's Pea: an Everland Ever After Tale

by Caroline Lee

  “What’s that?” When Mr. Prince finally met her eyes, his own were empty.

  She hated she was causing him this pain. “That life isn’t about money or how nice your house is. It’s about who you spend it with.”

  They stared at one another for a long moment, before Penelope confessed the rest. “I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to return to New York or even travel to Denver to meet you. I didn’t want him to have to choose between those two completely different lives.” She unclenched her fingers long enough to smooth out imaginary wrinkles on her green dress. “I would’ve told you, I’m sure. I owe you so much, I would’ve told you…but it was Draven’s arrival in town, and his threat to tell you for me, which reminded me of my duty.”

  From behind her, she heard a grunt, which made her flinch.

  Draven spoke. “I could see from the way you looked at that boy, you needed a kick in the backside to get moving.”

  A flicker of interest crossed Mr. Prince’s face. “How did she look at him?”

  “Like a woman in love. She pulled a gun on me, Andrew. Handed that baby to your son and stepped in front of him and pulled a gun on me.”

  The older man’s lips twitched slightly as he looked back at Penelope. “Your boutique pistol? I’m not surprised. You’re quite the talented markswoman.”

  Penelope’s eyes widened at the compliment, and she barely managed to nod her thanks, before Draven’s deep rumble startled her again.

  “He’s got guts, I’ll give him that. He had no idea what was going on, but he was determined to protect her. Stood in front of Miss Greene here, even though he must’ve been remembering what happened the last time he faced down an armed man.”

  Micah had been shot, disfigured. She wasn’t surprised Draven knew Micah’s history, but she still ached to hear it. Micah must’ve been so scared, but he’d still stood up to Draven. For her.

  Mr. Prince was nodding, and his speculative look appeared more unnerving than his anger had been. “You’re right. That does sound like he’s got guts. And it sounds like he cares for Penelope here.” Then, in one sudden movement, he sat forward. “And it sounds like you care for him, don’t you?”

  She’d gone to Everland to reunite father and son, and to reconnect with an old friend. She hadn’t meant to fall in love, but somewhere between seeing him cradling baby Antonia and watching him stand up to Draven, she had.

  Penelope swallowed. “I’m sorry sir, but yes.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because I know I’m just a clerk. I don’t have a right to care for your son.”

  The older man hmmm’d under his breath. After a long moment—a moment she spent squirming under his thoughtful gaze—he finally said, “But you don’t care for my son, do you? You don’t think he should even have the chance to be my son. You care for your childhood friend, who has shown you a life you never expected. That’s the case, isn’t it, Penelope?”

  She closed her eyes briefly. Oh, God. How could she hurt him this way? Especially after the way she’d hurt Micah.

  But she said the only thing she could. The only thing which would keep him from losing more respect for her. “Yes, sir.”

  “So what I want to know, young lady, is what you’re planning on doing now? What are your intentions, now that you’ve made decisions about my future—and Michael’s as well—without consulting either of us?”

  “I hurt him,” she blurted. “I don’t know how I can make it up to him, and I don’t know if I can tell him the truth, since I hid it from him for so long. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me. But I have to try.”

  Pushing against the arms of her chair, she surged to her feet. Staring down at Mr. Prince, she came to a decision. She then hurried across the room and scooped up her rifle case, clutching it to her chest. It was her most prized possession, the one thing she was most proud of. It represented an unusual skill she’d been able to cultivate, and the regard she had toward her wealthy employer.

  But it also represented her old life. Now that she’d been a part of Micah’s—however briefly—she knew she couldn’t go back to New York. She couldn’t ignore the joy she’d felt, working beside Micah and his family. She wanted—needed—to find some way to be part of his life.

  So she thrust the rifle case into Mr. Prince’s arms. “I’m quitting. You’ll never know how much your respect and regard has meant to me, sir, but I can’t go back to that life.”

  “I see.” He stared down at the case as if he could see just how much it meant to her and hurt her to return it. “You’re going to run back to my son, aren’t you? You think a life toiling sunup to sundown is going to be better than the luxury in the city?”

  She didn’t bother giving him an answer, because they both knew what she would say. Instead, she swallowed thickly. “Goodbye, sir. And thank you.”

  She was almost to the door, when he called out one word which stopped her.

  “Wait.”

  The command was harsh, the way she remembered his voice on days when the production line was out of commission, or he’s gotten disappointing distribution news. Her reaction—turning back to him—was instinctual. “Sir?”

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  God help me, I do. “I never understood what love was until I saw Micah again, sir. I do love him, and I know my lies and my stupidity probably ruined any chance I might’ve had for a life with him…” She lifted her chin. “But I have to try.”

  He met her eyes, but she couldn’t read his thoughts.

  “Well then, Miss Greene, good luck.”

  By the time she closed the door to his suite behind her, Mr. Prince had already started a conversation with Draven. She didn’t know what they were planning, but it wasn’t her business anymore. Mr. Prince had untold wealth and influence available to him. He would go to Everland as quickly as possible, to try to sway Micah to his side, and she knew it.

  Penelope somehow had to get there first. She had to explain why she hadn’t told the truth right away. She had to make Micah believe she’d done it with his best interests in mind. Had to explain her feelings for him…

  And pray he believed her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “This is it, huh?”

  Micah used two of Rojita’s precious remaining books to hold down the curling corners of the rolled-up design Skip had dropped off earlier. He smoothed down the paper, his palm caressing his friend’s pencil marks which showed the six upstairs bedrooms, the fancy indoor lavatory, the modern kitchen. “This is incredible.”

  “I know,” Rojita said. She was bustling around the other side of the Sheriff’s office’s tiny table, mixing up a batch of biscuits to go with their supper. “And to think it’ll be right here on Andersen Avenue! We’re not going to be stuck outside of town anymore.”

  Micah snorted. “The old place was ramshackle and falling apart. It was just as well we were outside of town where no one could see us. But this…” He traced the railing of the wraparound porch. “This new orphanage is going to be gorgeous.”

  Nodding, Rojita leaned over and pointed with the tines of a flour-covered fork. “And did you see back here?” There was an outbuilding marked in the plans, with a bunch of writing. “Skipper said that’ll be your new shop, right there on the property. Since you and the men were able to save so many of Abuelo’s—I mean, your tools—you shouldn’t have any trouble starting over.”

  Starting over. That’s what he was doing. That’s what they were all doing, but Dios mio, Micah felt it the keenest. A month ago he’d had a life, a purpose. A family, a home. Alright, he still had those things, but he didn’t have Pea. He’d gained something special and wonderful, but then he’d lost it again.

  Losing Pea, knowing he’d shoved her away with his harsh words and impatience, had been harder than losing the home he’d grown up in.

  The last few days had been exhausting, but mostly because Micah had forced them to be exhausting. At dawn, every day, he’d been out at the fire
site—their old home—salvaging whatever he could from the ruin—a cooking pot here, a porcelain ewer there, a set of Tom’s shoes he’d left under what had been the front porch, anything which could help them start again.

  He did it, focusing on the future, so he didn’t have to think of the past, of what he’d lost. Of Pea.

  “Just think of how fine those bedrooms are going to be, with their matching curtains and quilts.” Rojita was smiling as she scraped the bowl, musing aloud. “The kids will love not having to share a room for once. Well, with you in the main room, each of the older boys can have their own room, and we’ll have to ask the twins if they want to share or not. That would mean the baby could either have her own room, if they want their own rooms and Blue does too, or she’d have to double-up with someone…”

  Antonia chose that moment to wake from her evening nap, her distinctive come-and-get-me squeal rising out of the basket in the corner beside the jail cell.

  “Could you feed her dinner?” Rojita asked, nodding to the boiled carrots she’d set aside earlier. “It’s a lot easier before the kids come in.”

  I’ll say. Hank’s office was really just one big room—a desk, a table, some storage, and the cells. The apartment was upstairs, but there wasn’t enough room up there for everyone to eat, so Rojita did some of the dinner preparation downstairs. Still, she’d cleared off half the table for him to study the new orphanage designs this evening, and it was nice to have a few minutes with her before the chaos of dinner began.

  The baby was wet, of course, so he cooed at her as he changed her diaper. Antonia had the most wonderful laugh—high-pitched and infectious. He loved her as much as he loved Pea. In fact, it was almost as if his feelings for both of them were wrapped up together. It was impossible to think about loving Antonia, without remembering Pea’s arms around the baby, Pea’s lips as she blew raspberries for the baby, Pea’s low voice singing the baby to sleep, Pea’s eyebrows…

  Well, just Pea’s eyebrows.

  It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table again, the house plans rolled up and put aside, and the baby sitting happily in front of him, that he picked up the previous conversation where it had been felt off. “I’ll take the back bedroom in the corner and put Jack and Tom in the room next to me.” He laid one forearm across the baby’s legs to keep her upright while he mashed the carrots for her. “That way, you and Hank can have the big front bedroom.”

  It wasn’t until he was focused on Antonia’s second bite—most of which ended up on her chin when she tried to grab the spoon and feed herself—that he realized his sister hadn’t responded. He looked up to see her focused on rolling out the biscuits, very clearly not looking at him.

  “Rojita?”

  “Hank and I aren’t going to move into the new orphanage, Micah.”

  The news hit him like a punch in the gut. Starting over? Ha.

  “What do you mean you’re not moving in with us? We’re a family. We belong together.”

  She kept rolling and cutting. “And we’ll still be a family, even if we’re not living together. But these last few days, living here…”

  Rojita paused and looked around the office. The downstairs might be spartan, but the little apartment upstairs—where Micah and the kids were sleeping on pallets laid practically on top of each other—was cozy, and it was where the town’s Sheriff belonged. Since Hank had taken the job as soon as he’d married Rojita, he’d just moved into the orphanage with the rest of the family and Deputy Sheriff Nottingham had the apartment now, but had agreed to move in with his mother for the next few weeks to give them all a place to stay.

  His older sister sighed and finally met his eyes. “We like it here, Micah. I’ll always be a part of the orphanage, teaching and cooking and cleaning even, but in an apartment like this one…” She shrugged and went back to her biscuits. “We could have our own family here.”

  Antonia chose that moment to spit carrots back at Micah, and the conversation was paused while he wiped them both up. Rojita wanted babies of her own? Well, why not? She shouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life caring for all of them, not if she wanted to be a mother herself.

  “Besides,” she said slyly, “you’ll need the biggest bedroom for your wife.”

  “Wife?” He kept his attention on the baby.

  “I heard while we were gone, you and Miss Greene got pretty cozy. I heard she was over at the orphanage every day, and the two of you were quite smitten.”

  When he looked up, she winked at him, and he scowled in response. “You heard wrong. She went back to the big city, where you said she belonged.” Where I told her to go.

  But Rojita just shrugged. “Everland is a strange and wonderful place, little brother. There’s no telling what might happen.”

  “Yeah. Like an orphanage catching fire in a freak accident.”

  She chuckled. “Exactly. Although the building was horrible, you have to admit. We’ve been talking about renovations for years, but I guess we just needed a kick in the pants to make it happen. This could be a blessing in disguise.”

  “A blessing?” Pea is gone! “We’ve had to give Skipper every last dollar Abuelo saved, just to pay for this new building. We’ve got nothing left.”

  To his irritation, Rojita just shrugged.

  “We’re strong and capable, Micah. Not everyone has a secret stash of money to fall back on whenever they needed help.”

  “Neither do we. Not anymore,” he muttered, staring down at the carrots.

  “Listen.” His sister finished arranging the biscuits in the pan, then propped her hands on her hips. “Accidents happen. I understand you’re bitter and angry about this one, but you told me you believed it was an accident. You still do, right?” She waited for his begrudging nod. “Then we should be rejoicing everyone made it safely out of the fire and that you, Miss Greene, and Jack managed to save so much. This is a miracle, Micah.”

  She was right. He knew that. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s just…”

  “Just what?” she prompted when he trailed off.

  He coaxed another spoonful of carrots into Antonia. “It’s just I’m worried, alright? I’m glad I can keep working, and I know Hank will keep giving us what he can, and the town’s been incredible, providing so much for us.” He kept his attention on the baby. “But I’m worried about how we’ll survive. Six kids now. And with you moving out, and just me…”

  He couldn’t finish, and she knew him well enough by now to know not to push him. Besides, he was just lucky she hadn’t mentioned that damn-fool “wife” idea again.

  “Plenty of people have six kids and survive just fine, Micah. You, Hank and I…we’ll make it work. We’ve been making it work for years, and only using Abuelo’s money for emergencies.”

  He grunted. He knew she was right, but that didn’t make him any less bothered. And the worst part was, he knew this ball of hurt in his stomach, this anxiety, wasn’t about the money at all. It was about the fact he was having to start over. Without Pea.

  Dios mio, he could kick himself for letting her go.

  “If you’re really so concerned…”

  He watched from the corner of his eyes while Rojita wiped her hands on her apron.

  She hesitated a moment, but finally said what was on her mind, “You could always telegraph your long-lost father.”

  His eyes snapped up to hers. “What?” he croaked out.

  For the first time since starting this conversation, Rojita looked uncomfortable. She shrugged and shifted her weight. “I found the leather satchel with our other things.” She nodded at the smaller cell where the family’s remaining meager belongings were stacked. “The newspapers and the photograph…it’s obviously you.” Her expression turned sad. “That’s your father, Micah. He’s been looking for you for years. Decades.”

  While he was trying to put into words an explanation for why he didn’t want anything to do with Andrew Prince, Antonia stole the spoon from his hand and began to pound it against
the table. He moved the bowl of carrots out of her way, and took the damp towel Rojita hurried to fetch. Wiping the carrots off the baby’s face and chest, he did his best to avoid his sister’s eyes.

  “Micah, he obviously loves you. Do you remember him?”

  Yes. He remembered more than he expected—the way his father smiled proudly at him, the way his father used to read a book to him every evening in the nursery before Mrs. Potsdam put him to bed. The way Father would take him to the factory and tell him about all the machines, even though Micah was too young to understand.

  He remembered the way Father had hugged him that afternoon, before putting him in the carriage with his nanny on their way to their country estate. He’d been loved.

  But all of that had been taken from him, thanks to a blow to his head and his missing memory. Pea had come into his life then, and had filled it enough until Abuelo had taken him to live in Everland.

  Prince Armory, the fancy life back in New York…that was her world, not his. She’d said she’d always wanted a father like Andrew Prince, her mentor. Well, as far as Micah was concerned, she was welcome to him. He hoped they’d both be very happy and leave him here where he belonged.

  Antonia burbled happily as she slammed the spoon against the table, and Micah smiled despite his heavy heart.

  “Micah?” his sister prompted. “Tell me.”

  “I’m afraid,” he blurted, then clamped his lips on the confession, not wanting to say any more.

  “Afraid of him?” she gently asked. “Or of the situation?”

  He took a deep breath and stared at the baby’s round, happy face. “Those papers…they said he wanted his heir back. They said his son was going to inherit his business and ‘take his place in society.’ “

  “And you don’t want that,” Rojita guessed.

  “This is my life. I don’t want to leave.”