Page 12 of Firefly

“Of course, I should have guessed.”

As they sat, scratching Xs and Os into the dirt, he continued to think. He had very few options, fewer still that would yield fruitful outcomes. When Elizabeth asked what his problem was, he explained he needed to find a job at night, but one that only required occasional assistance.

“Play the stock market,” she said, as if that was the natural solution.

He pondered the idea, though, and the more he thought of it, the more weight it held. If he could secure a few hundred dollars, he could find a solid investment and turn it around. But where would he find that kind of money?

He asked the question aloud.

“Ask your Pa.”

The answer sent a wave of pain crashing into him. His Pa, who now thought him dead was finding his own peace. How different things would be if only Simon had listened to him and not enlisted in the army? He could have stayed to run the paper, married Rebecca, and saved her from her father’s machinations. Instead, he had died at the hands of Alexander and was forced to serve him for eternity.

“If only I could,” he said on an exhale. “My pa believes me dead.”

Elizabeth nodded. She understood these things far too well. She had died long before Simon. He knew that much, but talking of death with a child left him feeling unsettled, so they kept their topics light most days. She had been his only companion in the in-between, and as far as he knew, they were the only two who had evaded death.

When the day faded and his return to Earth was imminent, he steeled himself for what he would find.

Gasping as he sat up, he glanced around the dark room, taking in floral wallpaper decorating a small space, making it feel even more cramped. He ripped back the thin blanket and moved with preternatural speed up the stairs, stopping at the door to Rebecca’s room.

Her steady heartbeat was a balm to his soul as he reached the side of her bed and breathed a deep sigh, watching her chest rise and fall under the blankets.

Sarah sat up in her crib, raising her arms. He glanced down at Rebecca and then at Sarah, who looked at him expectantly. Her piercing eyes were twins to Rebecca’s father’s, and something in her stare made him shiver.

“Rebecca,” he whispered.

“Pick me,” Sarah said into the silent space, thrusting her arms out more forcefully.

“Shhhh, you’ll wake your mama.”

“Pick me!” she said louder, her voice bordering on hysterical. Simon moved around the bed, pulling the small girl into his arms, and the sheen of wetness in her eyes cleared as she nestled into him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, staring down at her perfect cherub face. She nodded. “Let's get you something to eat. Can I check on your mama first?”

She nodded again, and he leaned down, shuffling Sarah into one arm as he rested two fingers gently against Rebecca’s throat. Her skin was warm and alive, and her heartbeat was strong. She was only sleeping; she would need her rest to recover from so much blood loss.

Taking Sarah down to the kitchen, he sat her in a chair before the long butcher block counter and opened the refrigerator. He found several prepared dishes—waiting for the cook—and several dozen eggs.

He closed the refrigerator and went to the pantry, pulling out a jar of peaches and a jar of preserved apples from the shelf. Tipping his head outside the pantry, he held them both out. The pain in his wrists burned, but he swallowed the discomfort, painting a smile across his face.

Sarah squealed with delight, and he wondered if these weren’t appropriate late-night snacks for a child. Still, he wasn’t sure who had cared for her while Rebecca slept.

As he spooned heaps of preserved fruit onto a plate and handed Sarah a fork, he became even more concerned as she bit ferociously into the fruit, tearing at each piece like a wild beast.

“Maybe I should cut those for you,” he suggested, but the ferocious look she gave him had him backing away.

When her plate was clean and she had licked her fingers, he brought her a cup of water and watched her gulp it down. The poor thing was ravenous. Setting her plate in the sink, he returned with a wet cloth and wiped her sticky cheeks and fingers.

Turning over her wrist to wipe the mess from her palms, he hovered over a birthmark shaped like a star. It was an exact match of the birthmark Rebecca bore in the same spot on her wrist. He ran a thumb over it, marveling at its likeness.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he scooped Sarah up, darting for the door. He wasn’t fast enough, though, and Astaroth appeared in the doorway, blocking his exit. He bared his teeth at the demon, tucking Sarah into the corner of his arm to shield her from the creature.

“Sssimon. I wonder what Alesssander would think of you caring for a child.”

“You’ve done enough damage, demon. I was only feeding her a snack. I’ll be down to see Alexander shortly.”

“Sssee that you are.” Astaroth didn’t wait for Simon’s reply, disappearing and leaving his path clear.

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