Link: Lost Faith Title Page and Description

CAUTION - emotional pain/open emotional wounds

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Lost in the sorrow of her memories, Erica didn't even notice the boy who stood in front of her.

"Helloo?" he said for the third time, waving his hand in front of her sad and distant eyes.

Snapping out of her reverie, Erica finally looked up at the young man in front of her. He was heavyset, but not obese, and his short flame-red hair topped his round face, fitting with the outlandish hat he wore. His costume was The Mad Hatter from the live action film that had just been released earlier that year; a mad assortment of colors and patterns of cloth. "Um... hi." she responded shyly.

"Ah'm Mike Junior." he said, holding out his hand after wiping some cake crumbs off of it. "Mamaí and Daid air th' ones giving this party. Ah don't thin' Ah've seen ye' here a'fore. Are ye' new?"

His accent was an odd mixture of Irish brogue she'd heard from the boy's father earlier and the typical northeastern accent she'd started getting used to from the people she'd met since arriving. Taking his hand and giving it a soft shake, she replied, "My... my name's Erica... Hargrave." She pointed at her aunt, still dancing with John William. "That's my aunt Heather."

Mike sat next to her. "So ye' must be'n Faith's cousin, then. Ah heard Daid talkin' ta' Mamaí about ye'. He says ye' must be from Eire."

She shook her head, her short braids and ribbons tickling her shoulders. "Do you mean Ireland? No, I'm from Southern California."

His eyes widened. "Ya' mean like Hollywood? Did ye' ever see any famous TV or movie stars?"

Shaking her head once more, Erica giggled. "No! I'm from Newport Beach... that's fifty miles from Hollywood!"

The boy's face dropped. "Oh. S-sorry. Ah din' mean ta'..." His voice trailed off and he hung his head embarrassedly. "Ach! I kin be such a awful eejit! Ye' must be thinkin' Ah'm some kind o' thick!"

"Not at all!" Erica comforted him. "It's just a question!"

Anxiously, he looked over at the girl. "Say, would ye care ta' dance? Ah'm nay very good, but Ah won't be steppin' on yer feet!"

Stiffening, Erica remembered what Faith had told her about refusing a dance. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she took a breath and nodded. "Alright, but I'm not very good, either. I just know the box step and waltz."

He stood and held out his hand to her. "Well then, we're matched!"

Taking his hand, Erica let him escort her to the dance floor. She assumed the position Faith had taught her, only to see Mike start to assume the lead position backwards.

"Ach! S'cuse me!" he mumbled as he reversed positions.

She smiled at his nervousness, comforted that he was as uncomfortable as she was, and waited for him to start. She watched him listening for the beat and counting to himself. At the start of the next measure, he began with a simple box step that fit the three-four beat of the song. Moving in a slow square, she could see he was focused on nothing but counting, his eyes looking down to the left and his lips counting silently. Trying to make him more comfortable, she tried distracting him.

"Hey, Mike! I bet we look weird! Dorothy dancing with the Mad Hatter?" she joked. "I bet some people might think I'm Alice!"

His concentration broken, he looked at his partner for the first time since they'd begun. "Huh? Ach! Ah suppose so!" Looking around at the other dancers, he nodded toward her cousin. "Get a load o' them, though... a vampire an' a nurse! Wot? She th' one what gets his meals fir 'im?"

Erica laughed and nodded toward another pair. "Look at them! A cowgirl and a zombie! Too weird!"

The two spent a minute pointing out odd pairings before Erica turned to look at him directly. "Hey, Mike? Did you notice something else?"

"Wot?" he looked back.

"You stopped counting, but we never stopped dancing!" she grinned.

Blushing, Mike looked down. "Aye, Ah told ya' Ah wasn't very good!"

"But you never stepped on my feet!" she giggled.

Eventually the music ended and most of the dancers made their way off the floor. The two were headed back to their bench talking about the Dempsey's ponies when they ran into a group of three older boys blocking their way.

"Well, if it isn't the little Mick-ey!" the tallest of them said in a snide tone. Turning to Erica he flashed a charming grin at her. "Is this oaf bothering you, Miss?"

Looking him over, Erica could tell he was handsome, athletic, and thought it made him irresistible. Furrowing her brow, she took Mike's hand, making her dance partner's eyes bug out. "No, he's not! Who are you to ask?"

The boy straightened up and looked at his buddies incredulously. "Who am I? I guess you must be new! I'm Chet... Chet Mansfield!" he stated as though that should mean something to the girl. His face turning cruel, he then glared down at Mike and lowered his tone. "And you were just leaving! Right, pipsqueak?"

Her grip on Mike's hand tightened and she put her other hand on his shoulder, just as she started to feel Mike start to move away. "If he is, then we both are, dork! Come on, Mike!" Erica pulled on his arm and almost dragged him toward the bench they'd been sitting at as the three boys stood stunned. Her blood boiling mad, she could feel the adrenaline pumping and the overwhelming desire to knock Chet's block off.

"Erica!" Mike hollered. "Ah thin' yer pullin' mah arm oot th' socket!"

She stopped and looked back at the three boys who started talking and then looking over their shoulders at the two. "Sorry, Mike." Erica said as she tried to calm herself. "I just can't stand smart aleck guys that think they're God's gift! Oooo! It burns me up! I wish April were here! She'd tear those wise guys up one side and down the other!"

Confused but curious, Mike asked, "April?"

She sighed as she turned her back to the boys and interposed herself between them and Mike. "She's my best friend back in Newport Beach. I really miss her and wish she was here right now! I'm not usually that brave! In fact, I've never stood up to a bully in my life!"

"Well, Ah thin' yer awesome!" Mike smiled at her. "No one tells off Chet like that! All th' girseach think he's dotey!"

She tilted her head the way she'd adopted from Faith as she resumed slowly leading him back to their bench where Faith and her aunt were sitting once again. "What's a girseach? And what's dotey?"

He trailed along, glad that she was no longer pulling on his arm, but very aware that she still held his hand. "Wot? Ach! Girseach is a girl and dotey means cute." Mike swallowed hard and gathered his nerve. "L-like you! A dotey girseach ta' be sure!"

Erica paused a moment as she slowly realized that she had managed to get this poor boy all wound up over her. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You think I'm cute? No! I'm just ordinary. Faith is the cute one!"

"Nay, Erica!" he shook his head. "Ah thin' yer class! I know Chet'd sure like ya' ta' be his cailín!" Realizing she was about to ask, he explained. "If somthin' is class, it's really good, like awesome... and um... someone's cailín... is... um... their girlfriend." Mike blushed as he added, "Ah know Ah wish ye' ware mine." His eyes looked down as he finished, certain that this pretty new girl was about to laugh in his face.

What it did do was make Erica stop and cause her jaw to drop. No one, boy or girl, had ever shown her any interest that she knew of. While Erica knew she liked girls, it gave her pause as she tried to imagine dating this cute and interesting boy and had to repress a shudder. Closing her mouth, she tried to let him down gently. "Um, that's really sweet of you Mike. If I liked boys, I'd probably want to be your... um... cailín? Is that it?"

Mike nodded. "Aye, that it is." Sure that she was just trying to get rid of him, he asked point blank. "Do ye' not date boys, yet?"

"I don't date at all, yet." she shook her head. "But when I start dating, it won't be boys." she tried hinting a little more bluntly.

After a moment's contemplation, his eyes opened wide. "Oi! Yer aerach?" Seeing her confused look, he explained once more. "Um... ye' like girls?"

"Nothing personal." Erica nodded unashamedly.

Noticing she was still holding his hand, Mike looked down at them in confusion. "Then why did ye'..."

She laughed as they resumed their slow walk back. "Because I still like you! Better than that snob Chet, anyway! I just don't like like you! You're interesting and nice... for a guy." Finally reaching her aunt, she released his hand. "Aunt Heather? Faith? Do you know Mike?"

"Nice ta' be see'n ye again, Mrs. Hargrave. Faith." He bowed slightly to her aunt. Turning to Erica, he smiled. "Thank ye' fir th' dance, Erica. Kin Ah be gettin' ye' a drink? Or cake?"

Smiling as she sat by Heather, Faith on her aunt's other side, Erica answered, "Thank you, Mike. Punch would be... um... class!" Seeing the boy smile at her use of Irish slang, she watched him speed off to the refreshment table.

Watching the exchange with interest and more than a little concern, Heather turned to her niece. "So, did you enjoy dancing with Mike?"

"It was OK, I guess." Erica shrugged. "I more liked talking with him, though. He's a nice guy. He started teaching me a few Irish words, and he also likes some of the same things I do... horses in particular."

Her aunt leaned down and whispered a gentle warning into her ear. "He seems to be quite taken with you, Erica. How does that make you feel?"

"It's fine." she shrugged. "I know he does. He told me. I told him I don't like boys though, and he was fine with it. He didn't seem to care, anyway."

Still worried, Heather watched the Dempsey boy rushing back with Erica's punch. "I don't think he cares, sweetie. In fact, I think he doesn't care so much, he's still taken with you in spite of it! You need to be careful, dear. You could easily hurt his feelings."

Mike handed Erica a plastic cup with an orange punch in it. "Yer drink, m'lady!" he said while bowing to her with a toothy grin.

She took the drink with a shy, "Thank you." and sipped it, the flavor similar to orange soda and tickling her nose. When another song began, she saw Chet making his way up to the foursome. "Oh, no!" Erica mumbled.

The popular boy stopped in front of Faith and bowed to her, extending his hand. "May I have the pleasure?" he asked smoothly, glancing sideways to Erica who was trying to bore a hole in his head with her glare.

Smiling, completely unaware of Chet's earlier cruel remarks, Faith took his hand. "I'd be delighted, Chet!" she said as she stood.

Watching him with her head lowered, Erica's eyes were thin as slits as he escorted Faith to the dance floor. "Oily snake!" she muttered.

Heather looked from her daughter to her niece. "Who? Chet Mansfield? He's a fine boy, Erica!"

She glared at them starting to dance. "He's a two-faced, oily snake that thinks he's all that! He probably only asked Faith to dance to get under my skin... the jerk!"

"I'm sure you're mistaken." Heather scoffed. "Did something happen between you two?"

"Chet the Chump threatened Mike." Erica snarled as she crossed her arms angrily, her eyes never leaving the bully across the room. "Oh, not in a blatantly obvious way, but he made it clear that he wanted Mike to leave me alone with him! As if!" Mike only just taking a seat next to her, she turned to him. "Mike? Would you like to dance again?"

The boy turned white as a sheet as he stumbled back to his feet. "Um, sure Erica! Ah'd be happy ta'!" Extending a hand to her, his fingers were nearly crushed as Erica gripped them tightly and stood back up.

"Excuse me, Aunt Heather." she fumed as she took the lead in dragging the boy back to the dance floor. Assuming her position, she waited for Mike to take his, but was surprised when he stood there silently. "What's the matter, Mike?"

Shuffling, he looked at her. "Ah git th' fealin' tha' ye' don't sah much as want ta' dance wi' me as much as ye wan' ta' show up Chet."

Realizing he was right and how that must have made him feel, understanding how right her aunt was, Erica calmed down and looked at the floor. "You're right Mike, and I'm sorry. I actually would like to dance with you again... if you like... but I understand if you would rather just find someone else."

Mike smiled as he shook his head. "Nay, Erica. Ah wouldn't." He stepped up close and took her hand, letting his other slip around her back, starting to waltz with the others.

She seriously tried to keep her focus on Mike, but every time Faith and Chet moved into view she couldn't help but look over his shoulder at them. Realizing she was still being unfair to Mike, Erica made herself listen to what he was saying, mostly talking about his parent's ranch and their horses. After a while, she found it easier to listen and comment and wasn't even noticing her cousin any longer. When the dance ended, they started back to her aunt, but were stopped when Chet cut in front of them.

"Oh, sorry Mick-ey." Chet snidely faux-apologized. "You're so short and round, I thought you were one of the tables!"

Finally overcome with anger and loathing, Erica had reached her boiling point. Rearing back, she poured out all her pent-up emotions into one act, letting fly with an amazingly fast and strong right jab into Chet's lower abdomen that doubled him over. "Serves you right, jerk!" she screamed at him with all the fury in her heart pouring out freely.

Quickly, they were surrounded with adults trying to find out what had happened. Faith turned and watched her cousin descend into complete panic. She tried to make her way over to Erica, but couldn't reach her before the terrified girl ran for the barn door.

Just reaching the forming crowd to find out what was going on, Heather spotted her daughter. Grabbing Faith's arm, she pulled her aside. "What happened?"

"Erica punched Chet in the stomach! Laid him out, too!"

Closing her eyes, Heather tried to compose herself. Taking a deep breath, she looked around just in time to see Erica run out the barn door. "Wait here." her mother ordered as she hurried off after her niece.

Faith stood by numbly as her mother and Mike both ran after Erica.

His small size allowing him to move more easily through the crowd, Mike reached the door and was out and hot on Erica's heels before Heather had even made it halfway. "Erica!" he called out after her. "Slow up, girseach!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as Erica ran through the cold evening air, not even caring if she drew attention. When she heard Mike's voice call out to her, she collapsed to the ground and began to cry in earnest. She wasn't hurt physically, no one had even laid a finger on her, but her stomach was balled up like a rock, as though she had been the one punched in the gut.

Running up to her, Mike quickly removed his multicolored coat and dropped it over her shoulders while she sat kneeling on her hands and knees in the frozen dirt. "Erica?" he asked concerned. "Air ye' a'right?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, Mike! I'm not! He just... he made me so mad when he insulted you! I don't even know why I did it! I just..." Tears began to flow once again just as her aunt approached.

Mike looked over at Heather as she crouched down next to her niece. "Sweetheart? Are you alright?" she woman asked concernedly.

Looking up at her, Erica shook her head. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Chet was the one that got punched! By me! I punched someone!" she cried in stunned disbelief at her own actions.

Slowly, she helped Erica back to her feet. "Yes sweetie, but obviously something is wrong or it wouldn't have happened." Heather knew exactly what the problem was. Her niece had begun to see Chet, a boy that rubbed her the wrong way, as an object of all her pent up rage and frustration with the world. Just as she'd tried to transfer to herself the target of Eric's anger, Chet must have done something to cause Erica to pour it onto him instead. "Did he do something to you? Or to Mike? Did he say something?"

Beginning to shiver as she nodded, despite Mike's coat, Erica tried three times to answer, but it just wouldn't come out of her mouth, as though the ability to speak had somehow been robbed from her.

Shivering without his coat, Mike tapped Heather on the shoulder. "Ah thin' Ah kin explain, Mrs. Hargrave." he offered. "We ware makin' oor way off th' dance floor when Chet cut in front o' us an' made a rude remark... towards meself." He lowered his head ashamedly, thinking he was the cause of Erica's grief.

Heather gathered the two in her arms and started toward the main house. "I see. Why don't we go in and get warm. Then we'll talk. Alright, sweetie?" Erica nodded as she fought back another torrent of tears.

Entering his home, Mike ran to the kitchen. "Mamaí? I need some hot cider!"

Emma Dempsey stood up from crouching in front of the oven. "Where 'air yer' coat, boy!" she barked at him. "You'll catch yer death runnin' around out there half-naked!"

The twelve-year-old rolled his eyes at his mother's protectiveness. "Mamaí! First, Ah airn't half-naked! Second, Ah needed ta' give mah coat ta' Erica. Third, that's why Ah need th' hot cider. Where'd ye' put it?"

His mother put her fists on her hips. "Erica who? An' dun be givin' me none o' yer' lip, boyo!"

Seeing the cider bowl on the counter behind her, he grabbed three cups and tried to make his way around his mother while he explained. The more he talked, the more his mother's face melted from angry to concerned. "Mamaí! Kin Ah git by ye'? They'll be waitin'!"

Moving to the side, she was flustered. "So am Ah te' understand tha' the boyo insulted ye' and she's th' one tha' put him doon?" Mike nodded as he was about to scoop up a cup of cider when his mother's hand whacked him in the back of the head. "Eejit! Ware were ye'? Hidin' behind her skirt?" Taking the cups from him, she shook her head. "Git back in there an' see ta' oor guests. Ah'll be takin' these ta' Heather an' her niece!"

Running for the living room where the two went after coming in after him, he nodded towards his mother. "Ye' dun need ta' tell me twice!"

As Mike rejoined the two in front of the fire, he stood back and waited while Erica sobbed into her aunt's shoulder. It looked odd due to their costumes, but heartbreaking. For the life of him, he couldn't figure how such a small thing could cause so much anguish for her.

Emma entered and pushed past her son. "Heather? Here, take these." She offered the cups of hot cider. "Is th' girseach ta' be a'right?"

"She'll be fine." Heather nodded. "Just a stressful situation that released a lot of pent up anger and hurt." Seeing the confusion on Emma's face, she explained. "Erica's mother just died a month ago, and her father was killed with my Richard while serving. That's why she's come to live here with us."

The Irish immigrant's heart ached for Erica. "Th' poor girseach!" she exclaimed in a near whisper.

Just then, Michael came in from the cold along with an irate looking man. He nodded at his wife before approaching the two ladies huddling by the fire. "Mr. Mansfield is wantin' ta' talk wi' ya', Mrs. Hargrave." Pausing a moment he added, "If ye' can spare a tick."

Releasing the broken child, Heather rose graciously and turned to Chet's father. "I want to sincerely apologize for Erica's behavior, Mr. Mansfield."

Roger Mansfield stepped in front of Michael to confront her. "That heathen of yours made a laughing stock of my boy!"

Crossing arms, Emma scoffed. "Ha! 'Bout time someone did, ye' old fahrt!"

Flummoxed, he tried to respond, but Emma tore into him. "Tha' boyo air a brat, Mr. Mansfield! Ye' shoulda taken' him o'r yer knee a few times ta' beat th' cocky oot o' him! But what kin ye' expect... th' apple ne'r falls far from th' tree!"

Her husband's eyes widened. "Emma! Now look here..."

Emma glared at him, stopping him mid sentence.

"You have no right to tell me how to raise my son!" Roger stiffened.

Storming in front of him, Emma glared up at his frightened face. "Ah have every right ta' call em' like Ah see em' in mah own gaff! Yer' brat ware tormentin' mah boy! Erica stood up ta' him an' I say, 'good on her'! An' last Ah say, 'Git!' Ye nay be welcome in me gaff nay more! Oot!" She pointed past his shoulder toward the door making Roger flinch, sure that she was about to slap him out of her house.

Roger left in a huff before Michael turned to his wife. "Tha' ware nay hospitable, Emma!"

She grumped in return. "Some kinds o' loud-mouths ought not deserve hospitality, Mister Dempsey!" Turning to Heather, her voice softened to a hush. "How air she?"

"Upset, but really she'll be fine." Heather sighed. "I think it would be best if we were on our way, though. We don't want to disturb your other guests any further than we already have and you can't stay here all night. You have a party to see to."

"Now none o' that!" Emma shook her finger. "Ah'll grab th' roast, Michael kin take th' cider, an' we'll all go back ta' th' party ta'gether!"

Sitting in front of the fire, only dimly aware of her surroundings, Erica's thoughts were a cloud of jumbled memories, all conflicting with her assumed identity. Even as she kept telling herself, I'm Erica Hargrave! I am! memories of her mother's funeral and half remembered nights waking up crying at the death of her father clashed together with her new life, threatening to send her spiraling off into madness.

Slowly coming back into herself, Erica heard the last of the conversation. Finally, she calmed down and stood up. Turning to Mike, who never left her side, she slowly handed him his coat.

"Thank you, Mike. I hope I didn't embarrass you."

Taking his coat back, Mike shook his head. "Ach! Nay, Erica! 'Tis fine. If anythin', Ah'm grateful to ye' fir standin' up fir me."

"An' next time ye' kin stand up fir yerself!" Emma shot her son a glare. "Ah'll nay have a wee scared rabbit fir a Mack!"

Squaring her shoulders, Erica defended the boy. "It's not like that, Mrs. Dempsey!" Looking over at Mike, she smiled. "Mike was trying to avoid being rude to one of your guests. Chet really didn't do anything. It was just words. I shouldn't have overreacted. It's my fault."

She approached Erica and took her in her arms. "Thank ye' jus' th' same, girseach! Mike could be usin' more friends like you!"

While the four made their way back to the party, they talked about the ranch and how they'd gotten by during the power outage. Entering, a noticeable hush fell over the guests until Michael broke the tension.

"Air this a party air not!" he bellowed happily. Waiting for Emma to put down the roast, he took her by the hand and escorted her to the dance floor. In doing so, the mood shifted back to being light and entertaining.

Faith almost ran over to her mother. "Mamma! You should have seen Chet! His daddy took him out of here crying and holding his stomach!"

Lowering her gaze, Erica blushed. "I... um... I didn't punch him in the stomach, though."

Turning to her cousin, Faith's eyes widened. "You did so! I saw you!"

The embarrassed girl shook her head. "I hit lower than that." Looking up at the shocked faces around her, Erica held up her hands defensively. "I didn't mean to! It's just... well he's a lot taller than I am and... well..."

Heather had to restrain herself with every fiber of her being to keep from laughing out loud. Faith cocked her head, not understanding the subtle difference for a boy between a gut punch and one in the groin. Mike shrank back and crossed his legs, trying not to think about what had happened to poor Chet.

As the evening wore on, Erica noticed that while her aunt and Faith were asked to dance several times, all the boys avoided her like the plague and looked at her with a mild amount of fear in their eyes. She noticed too that the girls avoided her, casting dirty looks her way as though she'd committed some unpardonable sin by hitting the cutest boy around, making him leave early. Mike in contrast, doted on her all evening, getting her drinks, snacks, and even asking her to dance several more times.

When it came time for the games, Erica teamed with her aunt for most of them, their matching costumes making a cute pair. Other times she paired with Mike or sat them out while Mike would regale her with stories about his parents' lives in Ireland. She loved listening to him. His accent wasn't too thick, so she could follow his elaborate stories; sure that at most only half could be true.

Later, as people started telling ghost stories, the lights were turned down and Erica noticed that most of the younger guests started pairing up boy-girl. Unsure what to do, and seeing Mike alone and not wanting him to feel left out, she sat with him and held his hand. Innocently, she really started thinking of him as a good friend and only wanted him to be happy, and her presence seemed to make him quite happy. She never noticed the lovelorn looks he gave her as they sat in the dark close together, fingers intertwined.

At long last the evening came to an end and people started saying their good-byes and departing. When it was their turn, Heather smiled and hugged Emma warmly. "Thank you for a wonderful evening! I do want to apologize again for Erica's behavior. Just know that it's not typical for her."

Dismissing her apology with a wave of her hand, Emma snorted. "Ach! Go on then! It's fine! Perhaps it'll make th' brat think twice aboot bein' such a snot ta' others! I jes' wish it had been me own Mack who'd done th' deed!"

Erica hugged the elder Michael and thanked him for the food and games. Then turning to little Mike, she saw him shyly blushing and extending out his hand to shake hers. Steeling herself, she pushed past his hand and hugged him, making the boy unsure what to do about it. When she planted a kiss on his cheek, he turned three shades of red and stopped breathing, which made Erica giggle. Finally his father whacked him on his back, forcing the boy to resume breathing.

"Yer lettin' this girseach git ta' ya boy! Better be watchin' that!"

She smiled at Mike. "Thank you for showing me a good time, Mike." Dropping into a posture similar to Emma's when she was bawling out Mr. Mansfield and an Irish brogue she'd started picking up through the night, she added, "An din' be worrien' aboot gettin' ah cailín! Ye'll be havin' plenty o' time fir that, yet!" She was happy to see it made him laugh, along with his mother and father.

Starting toward the car, Heather took both girls in her arms as they walked. No words were exchanged, but Erica could tell that her aunt was pensive, which made Erica wonder what she might do to punish her for fighting, especially since she'd started it.

Fredrick held the car door for them as they climbed in and sat. Once they were underway, Erica looked across at her aunt and cleared her throat.

Heather stopped her musings and looked over at her niece. "Yes, sweetie?"

Gulping, Erica took a breath. "I know I'll need to be punished for hitting Chet, Aunt Heather. I'm ready."

"But I'm not, sweetheart." she shook her head. "I honestly don't know what to do about it." she added, looking out the window at the dark of the night.

Faith, who'd been uncharacteristically silent, finally spoke up. "So where did you punch him, then?"

Breaking the tension like an explosive, Heather couldn't stop herself from laughing out loud this time. Her laugher triggered the other two to start laughing and soon Heather found herself trying to explain to her daughter what it meant for a boy to be hit where Chet had been struck. By the time the three had reached their home, Erica was in much better spirits and her aunt was more sure than ever what she needed to do about her niece's unresolved anger and pain.

Franchesca was at the door and took Heather's coat while Fredrick parked in the garage. "Did you have a good time, ma'am?" she asked rotely.

Cocking her head, she nodded slightly. "Yes... we certainly had an interesting time. Thank you."

Helping Erica off with her coat, Cook saw the girl blush and turn away at her aunt's description of the night. "What happened?"

"Erica punched Chet Mansfield in the groin!" Faith blurted it out while Fredrick came in and took her coat. After a few minutes of explanation, mostly from Heather, the two girls ran upstairs to wash and change for bed, it being well after their normal bedtime.

Holding her hand out toward Fredrick, Franchesca inquired in a growl, "Well? Where's my camera?"

Handing her the device, he silently nodded at the maid.

"Did you get any good pictures?" she asked as she started to look at them.

"One of monumental importance and impact." he replied as he hung his own jacket and started putting on his butler's coat. "When you find it, you might consider just erasing it as it could be used in evidence against Miss Erica, should the Mansfields decide to sue."

Franchesca furrowed her brow and quickly started scanning through the photos, finally coming to a stop on a picture that made her draw in a breath. There in front of her, recorded for all time, was sweet little Erica with her fist buried in Chet's upper groin.

Looking over Franchesca's shoulder, Theresa nodded. "Good for her!" she shouted.