Stealing Cinderella(2)
Lavinia and Magnolia shed tears as they discard their matching gold bracelets into the heap that’s accumulating on the platform. Narcissa is equally teary-eyed as she delicately sets her ring on top of my father’s wallet.
“Now, the little girl.” One of the men steps toward us, and my father pushes me back.
“She doesn’t have anything. We’ve given you what we’ve got, now please just go.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” The scary-looking stranger tilts his head, examining me. “We’ll have to see for ourselves.”
My father shoves me back against the cold metal fence, shielding me with his body as I frantically tuck my necklace beneath the collar of my dress, hoping they won’t spot it. This was the last gift my mother gave to me, and I know that’s why he’s trying to protect it. But as their footsteps slap against the concrete, I consider that there might not be a choice.
Before I can make that final decision, both men lunge forward at the same time, yanking my father away from me. He doesn’t go without a fight, and when he knocks one of the men down, the other swings straight for his throat.
Papa stumbles back, coughing and sputtering as he brings his hands up to his throat. A scream pierces the air as he falls back onto the pavement, and it takes my brain a second to understand what that crimson liquid is on his fingers.
“Papa!” I collapse onto my knees and crawl toward him, terror vibrating through my entire body.
My limbs are too stiff, and everything seems to be happening so fast. Narcissa is frozen, her eyes unfocused as she watches me slip through my father’s blood. There’s so much of it, and I don’t know how to help him. When I bring my hands to his, warmth oozes from his wound into the crevices of my fingers. His eyes are glazed and weak as I clutch at his shirt, pleading with him.
“Papa, please be okay! Please, someone, help us!”
With what little strength he seems to have left, he curls his fingers around mine and offers me a sad, strange smile.
“I love you, Ella,” he croaks.
“No!” I cling to him, refusing to believe this is real. He can’t leave me. I won’t let him. But even as I tell him that, his body falls limp beneath me, his head lolling to the side as the life fades from his eyes.
“Please!” I look at Narcissa, a frantic, desperate energy making my voice too high. “You have to do something!”
Her trembling hands fall to her sides, and in the span of a few seconds, her face morphs from horror to hatred.
“I think you’ve done enough for us all, Ella.”
1
Ella
“That’s a good girl, Mabel.” My fingers dance over her glossy black mane. “Look at how far you’ve come.”
She dips her head and nudges me with her nose, offering me a cheeky little kiss. Mabel is a former racehorse who was abused at the hands of her owners, and when she first arrived at Hilliard, she was so skittish we feared she might never recover. But time and patience have given her space to trust again, and now she spends her days happily lazing around the English countryside. I love to work with her whenever I get the chance, and while I try not to pick favorites, I think I’ve developed a soft spot in my heart for the jet-black Arabian mare.
“I wish I could stay a little longer, but I have to go.” I nuzzle her face one last time. “Enjoy your dinner.”
She swishes her tail and turns her attention to the hay as I scurry off through the pasture, counting off the feed stations to make sure I got them all. When I get to the gate, Olivia is already waiting for me, shaking her head with amusement. She’s the owner of Hilliard Animal Sanctuary, and she’s been kind enough to let me volunteer my time here whenever I get a chance to slip away from home.
“All the other horses are going to get jealous if you keep giving her smooches.” She laughs.
A grin splits across my face. “I don’t pick favorites, and you know that.”
“Sure, you don’t.” She smirks. “Try telling that to your shadow.”
On cue, the tiny kitten appears and paws at my leg to get my attention. Alfred’s just a little ball of gray fluff with the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and I’d be lying if I said he hadn’t stolen my heart. When I scoop him up into my arms, he curls against my chest and starts to purr.
“Any word on the puppies?” I ask.
Anxiety swirls in Olivia’s eyes as she nods. “The vet wants to keep them for a while longer before he releases them.”
I scratch Alfred’s ears, contemplating what else I can do to help. A couple of weeks ago, someone dumped a litter of gravely sick puppies at Olivia’s doorstep in the middle of the night. They’ll require a lot of care upfront unless we can find someone willing to adopt them, which seems unlikely. The animals who need more attention rarely get adopted. Olivia is worried about the vet bills, and it’s hard not to feel helpless. It seems like every week someone else is asking her to save another abandoned animal. Meanwhile, the vet is pressuring her to pay off her existing balance before he provides any more care.
“I have five alteration orders this week,” I tell her. “One of the neighbors bought some dresses that need hemming. I’ll come right over on Sunday and give you whatever I earn from those.”