The Family Origin

Chapter Nine: JOSEPH POV

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.