The Rose of Birmingham | ᴘᴇᴀᴋʏ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇʀꜱ

Thirty-Six | ʀᴏꜱᴇ

"...Jack, having safely reached the ground with his treasures, ran to the shed behind his family's cottage," Rose read aloud from Charlie's book of fables. "There he retrieved an axe. Dashing back to the beanstalk as swiftly as his little legs could carry him, he chopped down the towering plant, which prevented the giant from descending after him. Jack and his mother were safe. And as they were now in possession of a sack of gold coins and a goose that laid golden eggs, they were very, very rich. So, they lived in safety and comfort, together, for the rest of their days. The end."

Charlie, who was seated next to her on the sofa so that he could see the illustrations, let out a little sigh of content. He leaned against Rose's side, his arm slung across her waist.

Rose closed the book in her lap. "So ends the adventures of our daring boy Jack," she said, wrapping an arm around Charlie's petite shoulders. "I do love a happy ending, don't you?"

Charlie smiled and bobbed his head. "His mumma is proud of him?"

"Oh, very," Rose said. "He saved their farm."

"She gives him kisses and bedtime stories?" Charlie asked, looking up at Rose's face.

"I'm sure she does," Rose replied. "Every day. She really loves him an awful lot, you know?"

"Because he's brave?"

"For many, many reasons," she said, stroking the hair off of Charlie's forehead. "He's a kind, selfless, darling little boy, after all. Just like you."

"I never met a giant," Charlie said, his tiny voice matter-of-fact. "I'd be scared."

"On the contrary," Rose differed softly. Her mind went to Thomas and his hold over all of Birmingham. "You have met a giant. King of the giants. You're the bravest boy I know."

Charlie tucked his head against Rose's shoulder, and she pressed a little kiss to his forehead. Any time spent with Charlie was a welcome reprieve among the rest of her interactions. She was able to take him at face value, unlike all the others with whom she was acquainted, save Daphne.

After her surprisingly successful interlude with James Gallagher that morning, Rose had gone to St. Mary's Church to see the refugees. Once there, she'd assisted a few of them in combing through the newspaper adverts for possible job postings, then she'd helped to serve lunch. She'd considered visiting Daphne, but knew her cousin was at work and likely slaving away on her article covering the benefit for the Grace Shelby Institute. It was of no consequence, however. She would see Daphne another day.

Rose released a long, soothing breath. Charlie's little body felt warm and comforting as he snuggled next to her. He pulled the book of fables from her lap onto his and began perusing the illustrations.

Miss Pimms was seated across the room next to the wide parlor windows, diligently working on an embroidery sampler. "You have a lovely voice for reading aloud, Miss Rose," she said. Her eyes were fixed on the delicate needle and thread, but her plump face smiled. "I can see why the little master prefers your readings to mine."

"Oh, Miss Pimms, I hope you know I don't mean to overstep," Rose said. The amount of time she spent acting as Charlie's nanny could quite easily be seen as intrusive to the stout au pair. "I'm well aware of your capabilites in performing your job duties."

"Overstep?" Miss Pimms echoed. She glanced up and snorted a laugh. "You haven't! Even I love listenin' to you tell a story. You step in whenever you want. I have no issue with playin' second fiddle."

Rose smiled at the nanny from across the room. "Thank you for that. I suppose I'm just hopelessly smitten."

"Don't blame you for an instant, Miss Rose," Miss Pimms said. "He's the most well behaved boy I've ever been hired to look after."