A/N: I want to remind folks that this story using period typical attitudes, including language. CW: verbal abuse near the end of the chapter.

January 1927

After she agreed to the courtship, she continued to work at the bar. Well, she didn't really work there, but she still lied to herself anyway. She couldn't believe she was accepting a man's money to let him court her! Of course, Sam saw himself as providing for his intended. She didn't quite feel the same way about things. At mass each week, she wondered if she should repent for that. She didn't take holy communion for weeks.

Though, nothing really changed between them. They went out on runs together. On nights when they had no runs, she would make supper for them. Except now, sometimes they never went out back. He didn't always like sitting out back unless there was some good music. Apparently, sitting out there each night had been for her benefit.

Most nights, she came over and they listened to music for the evening and found things to talk about. He really did just like talking to her and asking about her books.

One night, he asked about the book she was reading. "Will you read it to me?"

"If you want." She started reading, and she noticed he watched her with a look of wonder as she read the words aloud. The next night, he asked her to read it to him again. When they finished that book, he asked her to read her next book to him.

She giggled. "Wow, maybe I should get a job talking on the radio."

"Why's that?"

"My voice must sound very good for you to prefer listening to me read instead of reading them yourself!"

The smile on her face died when she noticed a look of shame cross his face as he frowned. He looked away from her and rubbed his head.

His voice was barely above a whisper. "You have a lovely voice."

She swallowed thickly, realizing she'd never even seen a newspaper in the house. The only book she saw was his family Bible. "Sam, can you read?"

"Not very good." He refused to look at her. "Well, no. I can't. You're so smart, and I...I don't want you to think I'm an idiot."

"I don't think that. Not everyone gets to learn. That's ok."

"It's not ok. I'm not smart like you. I can write my name, but that's it."

"You run an entire business! You're smart!"

He chuckled. "I've got a head for figures but not reading."

"Didn't you go to school at all?"

"I needed to work for wages."

"Oh. You never talk about your family."

He smiled sadly. "Not everything bears a conversation. I'd rather talk about you. I like the way you tell stories, and if I can't read them, I'd just as soon hear them from you." Later, he would tell her how his father died in a factory accident. His mama took on a job, but she left for work one night to never return home. They were never sure what happened to her. His sister, Mandy, took care of him and his brother as best she could, but the children were on their own. His brother died in the war; his sister died in her child bed. After the war, he focused on establishing himself as a businessman by taking on the kind of work that wasn't necessarily legal-but the kind that really helped you get ahead.

The next night, she brought one of Jimmy's reading books. When she pulled it from her satchel, she asked him: "Do you want to try reading?"

He winked at her. "I'll try for you."

At first, Sam was frustrated that the book was meant for a child, but he struggled with it. However, his frustration gave way a few nights later as he started making out the words and reading sentences aloud.

When he read an entire page the next week, she smiled at him. "See, I told you that you're smart!" He beamed with pride. Weeks later, he couldn't stop grinning when he pulled out a newspaper and started reading it to her as she sat next to him, listening intently.

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February 1927

On St. Valentine's Day, he kissed her for the first time. When she arrived at his house, he presented her with a beautiful, hand-painted card that said "for my love," along with a single rose. She presented him with a sweater that she knitted for him. She'd spent weeks working on that sweater, having to unwind pieces of it and redo it. She anxiously awaited to see if it fit, hoping she got the measurements just right. He seemed to be about the same size as papa, so she went with that. His eyes lit up as he unwound the parcel.

"A sweater!"

"Yes, I wasn't really sure what else to get for you. I noticed you don't seem to have many sweaters. I wasn't sure of your measurements, so if it doesn't fit, I can make another one for you."

He smiled. "I don't have many sweaters." Of course he didn't. He wore those expensive suits all of the time!

He unfastened his vest and slid his shirt over his head. She was momentarily stunned and wondered if she should look away, but she was curious to see if her gift fit, and she'd need to know how exactly to make the new one if it didn't.

"Look at that! It's a perfect fit, and a perfect gift from my sweetheart. Thank you!" He caressed her cheek. He wore that sweater almost nonstop.

After supper, he put a record on and invited her to dance to "Someone to Watch Over Me."

She had never danced with a boy, or a man, like this with her hand in his and his arm around her back, swaying to the tune. She could feel him staring at her, and when she looked up, she found his eyes. The way he looked at her was like he could read her soul, if that were possible.

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to say something or remain silent. "This is a beautiful tune."

"A beautiful tune for my beautiful sweetheart." She giggled at that. "What's so funny?"

"You don't have to call me beautiful all the time."

"Why not? A man should always speak the truth, especially when it's to tell his lass how special she is." Her giggle gave way to a full faced blush as she thought of how his kind eyes and soft beard made him handsome. Should she tell him that?

They swayed around to that tune no fewer than five times. He kept restarting the record. She almost asked if he had another, but he seemed to like this one a lot. It was a rather nice song.

Dancing gave way to checkers as snow hammered down on the city. Within an hour, everything was completely white outside. He watched as she zipped around the board with her king, eliminating the last of his pieces.

"Damn, I can't believe you won again! You really have no mercy!"

She shrugged. "What's mercy in a game of checkers?"

He laughed, and then, she laughed. When he stopped laughing, he looked at her a little funny.

"What is it?"

"The sound of your laughter is what I imagine angels must sound like. Teresa, have you ever been kissed?"

"Well, a boy tried once, and it didn't go so well."

Sam blinked. "Tried?"

"One time, Mr. Minnelli's nephew followed me into a pantry. He grabbed my backside and tried to kiss me. I threw a baking stone into his tender spot and kicked him. He was on the floor groaning and crying when Minnelli came to see what was going on. I thought I was done for when Minnelli started yelling in Italian. Mrs. Minnelli came and got me. She said it was good that I protect my virtue but to remember that young men are tender in body and heart."

Sam bellowed out a laugh. "That's my Teresa!"

She blushed and smiled a bit. She hadn't told anyone that story before. She certainly didn't think she'd tell it and not be chastised for her behavior.

"So are you opposed to all kissing, or just boys trying to corner you? Because I'd like to kiss you. Can I do that? I really don't want anything thrown into my tender spot!" He was still laughing.

"Right now?"

He chuckled a little bit. "Yes, sweetheart. Right now. Come here, please."

She wasn't sure what to say or what to do. Somehow, she found the courage to stand from where she was kneeling on the floor for their game of checkers, instead of running away. As she reached where he was on the sofa, she sat next to him as he placed an arm around her shoulder.

"You want to kiss me?"

"Does that surprise you? If it does, then I'm not doing a very good job of showing you how I feel about you."

She didn't mind hanging around with him. He was nice to her and always ensured her comfort. In fact, he was fun and usually pleasant. He wasn't a hard man to be around at all.

Her cheeks were hot. "I suppose not." After all, it was the kind of thing that couples did.

"Am I making you nervous?"

She nodded. "Maybe you should just do it."

"You never have to be nervous around me. I won't hurt you or make you do anything you don't want to do, sweetheart. Are you sure I can kiss you?"

"Yes." Using the hand already around her shoulder, he tilted her head up to him and kissed her. At first, his lips were just pressed against hers. When she felt his tongue in her mouth, she gasped.

"Are you ok?"

"Your tongue was in my mouth."

He grinned. "I know. That's kissing. Just follow my lead, ok?"

He did it again. This time, she was prepared. On instinct, her tongue started to move with his as she noted the pleasant sensation of his beard scratching the skin around her lips. He kept kissing her for what seemed like an eternity.

He moved away, and she was glad that he did. Her chest felt like it was on fire. She needed to breathe. He continued to caress her jaw. "Our first kiss. Did you like it?"

It felt pleasant, but she didn't know if she liked it. Sometimes, she had a hard time understanding how she was supposed to feel about him. Since she left school, she didn't really have friends. He was a very good friend. In any case, she knew what he wanted to hear about the kiss. "Yes. Did you?"

He smiled at her sweetly. "I liked it very much. You make me so happy, sweetheart."

She felt her cheeks burning again. Really, she had no idea what she did to make him react this way to her. All she ever did was just play games or cards with him, drive the car, talk to him, or make supper. It was all normal stuff and no declarations of love from her, but he always acted like her presence was the greatest gift of all.

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March 1927

She'd never seen Sam's as packed as it was on St. Patrick's Day. Anyone who was anyone was there. Sam knew a lot of people and had a lot of friends.

She prepared food for the boys, and she left for Sam's immediately after to prepare more food. He asked her if she didn't mind making a feast for the boys for tonight since it was a day of celebration and it would be so busy. By the time she changed and sat at Sam's table in the bar, she was exhausted!

"Very good supper, sweetheart. Thank you."

She blushed a bit. She wasn't used to being thanked for cooking-or anyone complimenting her cooking except Jimmy. Like Sam, he seemed to like everything she made. "It wasn't a problem. Glad to earn my wage this week."

Sam laughed from his belly, making the table shake. "You earn it every week." He had a bottle of whiskey at the table. He didn't always drink, but it was a day of celebration. "You want me to have you a lemon water brought over?"

"Yes, please." It was her favorite drink.

She sipped on her water, but she was increasingly more curious about the whiskey Sam had at the table. Maybe it was because she was used to being here now, but it didn't stink anymore.

Sam saw her looking at the bottle. "Do you want a sip?"

She met his red eyes with uncertainty. What if she took a sip and ended up like papa? "I don't know. I was just looking at the bottle. It's...got a nice design."

He chuckled a bit. "It's ok to partake sometimes, Teresa. Here."

He handed her his glass. She took a sip. It didn't taste bad at all. She took another before giving his Sam his glass back. He smiled at her and refilled the glass, leaving it sitting between them. She took some more sips, feeling her cheeks get hot. A few sips later, her head was light and her chest heavy. Sam was talking to her, but she lost the thread on that conversation long ago. She just kept sipping the whiskey and listening to the Irish music playing, until she leaned her head against Sam's shoulder.

She felt him lift the glass out of her hand. "Sweetheart, I think you are drunk."

"Hmm?"

He laughed softly. "Let's get you to the front of the house before I have to carry you. I have to admit I'm a bit gone too."

He took her hand and pulled her up from the table. "Wait!"

He seemed a bit startled. "What's wrong, Teresa?"

"Dance with me!"

"When we get to the front house, we'll dance if you want."

"No! Dance with me here! You don't have this music in the front house."

He laughed at her, pushing her hair out of her face. "All right. If my sweetheart wants to dance here, we will."

"I'm your sweetheart."

"You are."

"Does that mean you're my sweetheart?"

"I really hope so."

"Hmm."

Her head was so heavy to hold up, so she leaned against his chest. He had such a strong chest. He could hold her up.

From there, the rest of the night was a blur. She remembered Sam helping her walk to the front house and placing her on top of the covers in his bed. He kissed her forehead after covering her with a blanket.

"You are my sweetheart, and I love you very much," he said sweetly into her ear before leaving her there.

"Maybe you're my sweetheart, too," she whispered.

When she woke, she had a headache and a stomach ache worse than anything she'd ever had before. How did papa drink that stuff all day long, every day? She never wanted to see it again! She'd stick with her lemon water.

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April 1927

On Good Friday, he asked to sit with her at mass. As they sat in his parlor listening to a record, he asked her out of the blue. "Can I sit with you at mass tomorrow?"

Her face went pale. "You want to sit with me at mass tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'd like to sit with you and your brothers."

Families kept together, but sometimes, couples courting sat together. On a normal day, no one paid attention to where anyone sat, but Good Friday was a big deal. Everyone in the neighborhood would be there. Everyone would see Sam sit next to her.

"It's Good Friday. Papa will probably be there."

He rubbed his beard. "I doubt he will." Papa had been to mass only a handful of times since mama died. "But I could-and probably should-talk to him."

She felt her heart racing. "What? Why?"

"Why? Because I'm courting his daughter. It's the polite and proper thing to do."

Polite and proper would have been to talk to him before he started courting her for his permission. Polite and proper would not involve them spending so much time alone together at night. No, he wanted to make things public.

"I don't want to make him angry."

"A courtship would make him angry? Of all things, you acting responsibly and taking care of your entire family would make him angry?"

"If he knows where I've been going at night, he will think the worst."

"Teresa, you don't want me to talk to your papa. You are trying to avoid my question about sitting together at mass tomorrow. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" She answered a little too quickly.

He readjusted in his seat. "You don't want to be seen with me?"

"It's not...mass is a big deal!"

He shrugged. "So is our courtship. Why shouldn't we be in public together?"

She looked down and picked at her fingernails. "I don't know."

"I know what this is. Are you ashamed to be in public with me because you think I'm an old man and people will laugh at you?"

"No."

"Funny. You said 'no,' but I heard 'yes.'"

"I didn't say that."

He caressed her cheek. "You know, sooner or later, you will have to be in public with me. I might be the same age as your papa, but I'm not that old. If he had himself together, he could be married again with more children." She scrunched her nose at that. She didn't know if she liked the idea of having another woman come replace mama. "Besides, anyone who would make fun of you is just jealous. I won't talk to your papa just yet, but I need to talk to him soon. I'd like to get married this year. After all, I'm not getting any younger."

He laughed as he kissed the side of her head. He wanted to get married this year, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever want to get married at all! She was supposed to be in love with him, and she still wasn't sure about that. That's why she didn't want to be in public together, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

At mass the next evening, he slid into the pew next to her and squeezed her hand. Jimmy, who was sitting next to her, leaned over to take in the stranger who'd just sat next to her sister.

Jimmy tugged on her sleeve, whispering. "T, who is that old guy sitting next to you?" She closed her eyes as Tommy and Stan started to snicker. Thankfully, everyone around them was still chatting and didn't care what was going on.

Though, Sam seemed to hear Jimmy's question. He reached around her, holding his hand out. "Hi there. Sam Bosco."

Her little brother looked at her in confusion for a moment before taking Sam's hand. "James Lisbon."

"It's nice to meet you, Jimmy."

"James. Only my friends call me Jimmy."

That got the other boys really going. "Tommy! Stan! Jimmy, that's not polite and not how we speak to adults."

Apparently, Sam was also amused as she noticed him smile with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, it's nice to meet you, James."

"I guess it's nice to meet you too, Mr. Bosco."

"Only my friends call me Mr. Bosco. Everyone else calls me Sam."

Jimmy furrowed his brows at that as she grinned a bit. "I don't think that's true, and we're not supposed to lie in church."

Sam looked at her and smiled. "Well, this kid is going places. You can call me 'Sam,' James."

"Then, I guess you can call me 'Jimmy.'"

She had never been happier for mass to actually start. She had no idea where Jimmy picked up something like that, but their papa would not be near as amused, or in a good humor, as Sam if he ever did something like that in front of him. He'd give both of them a beating.

As they began to sing a hymn, Sam tapped her hand.

"Hmm?" She looked over at him.

"Is that Mrs. Murphy over there?" He pointed to an older woman sitting up front.

"I think so."

"Well, is she asleep, or has she gone to be with our father in heaven? Should we check on her? That woman was like 90 when I was a kid!" She started laughing out loud and he smiled back at her. It was cruel, but the woman was very old. It was likely she had just fallen asleep.

Unfortunately, that drew the attention of Mrs. Grady, who was directly in front of them. She turned to look at them with a stern, reproachful gaze. She did her best to hold her laughter in and wipe the smile off of her face, as Sam puffed his face up like a little boy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. After Mrs. Grady returned facing forward, they faced each other, laughing quietly with their fingers touching. When she turned to face forward, she caught Tommy staring at her from the corner of her eye.

As they were in line to take communion, Sam asked to give them a ride home. She just gave him a simple nod. There was no point in telling him that it was a short walk to their house and causing an argument. He never liked her walking anywhere. The five of them piled into his automobile.

When they arrived home, she didn't want to linger in his car too long with the boys standing right there in broad daylight. "Come on, Jimmy. Let's get inside!" Tommy ushered the boys inside, stealing away her excuse for getting out of the car quickly.

"I'm sorry about Jimmy."

He waved his hand. "No need to apologize. He saw a strange man sit down next to his sister, and he wanted to know about me."

"Well, if he ever did something like that in front of papa…"

"He would knock him senseless I'm sure, but there's no need for that. Brothers protect their sisters." She just laughed at that. "What's so funny?"

"It just is." The joke was that her brothers absolutely did not protect her. She did everything, and they not only laughed at her, but they left her out here alone in the car with Sam.

"Sorry I got you in trouble at mass. What a tough crowd!"

She chuckled softly. "Well, you're good at trouble, Sam." Even if he was older than she was, sometimes, he still acted very youthful sometimes.

He grinned as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "That I am. Will I see you tomorrow?"

Her smile slipped a bit. She wasn't sure if she was ready for this, but she knew what she should do. "I'll make the run with you. Why don't you come for supper on Sunday?"

"I'd love that, sweetheart."

"Ok, I will see you then." As she reached for the door, he pulled her towards him, looking into her eyes. His eyes looked so happy. It was the strangest thing, but sometimes when his eyes were that happy, she started to feel happy. It was almost like a chain reaction where his happiness wore off on her. He brought his lips to hers for a chaste, but intimate, kiss. She thought about that kiss briefly as he got out to get the door for her.

On Sunday, he appeared at their door holding a bouquet of beautiful spring flowers for her. She smiled as she accepted them and thanked Sam. No one had ever brought her flowers before. She made a mental note to find out how to preserve them for as long as possible.

Papa was confused as to why he was there, but his confusion didn't extend much past the fact that Sam gifted him a bottle of whiskey before going off to talk with him. She remembered what Sam had told her: "For a bottle of whiskey, I could have his worthless daughter if I wanted her." Did Sam bring whiskey in exchange for her?

She tried to put that out of her mind as she busied herself finishing supper. She didn't know exactly how their talk went or what was said. During their meal, he clapped Sam on the shoulder and remarked: "I'm glad my daughter finally did something worthwhile. God knows she's terrible at cooking and maintaining a home, but I'm glad you like her. Good job landing this one, Teresa!"

She frowned slightly before fixing her face. Surely, Sam was used to seeing him drunk, but it didn't embarrass her any less. "Yes, papa."

He took another swig of whiskey. Sam frowned, simply looking toward her papa sitting at the head of the table. "I don't know. I like her cooking. I think you have a nice home."

Papa laughed before using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. "Well, you have to say nice things to her now, don't you? When she's your problem, you'll sing a different tune."

"Well, some problems are better to have than others, Tom." She squeezed her eyes shut, praying Sam didn't say anything further. Privately, he'd made his feelings about papa known.

"Aht aht! That's Father Lisbon to you, isn't it?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, no. I'm not going to call you that."

Papa simply shrugged and raised his glass. "Just keep them coming, and I don't care what you call me."

"Why would he call you father?" Jimmy spoke out, and she saw Stan hit him in the arm. "Ow!"

"Because your sister is laid up with him."

Tommy inhaled sharply. She heard Jimmy whisper "what does laid up mean?" as Stan shrugged his shoulders. Sam dropped his fork as she also gasped, her cheeks burning. "Papa!"

"Well, why else is a fully grown man here asking after you if you aren't laid up with him? Are you expecting yet?"

"Papa...I would never!"

"Ah! It's ok, girl. It happens. You'll just marry him. Let him buy the whole cow."

Her tears ran hot as they fell down her face. Sam grabbed her hand. "You know, if you didn't spend so much time laying around drinking maybe you would know your daughter better. You'd know what a wonderful, smart, good girl she is."

"Hey! This is my house! I'll speak the truth if I see fit. Why else are you interested in this girl if she didn't take her clothes off for you? I know how this works!"

Sam nodded his head. "It might be your house, and ordinarily, I'd never disrespect a man in his own house, especially not in front of his children. But listen here: you will not speak to her that way, and you'll never lay a finger on her again. Not if you expect to keep drinking at my bar or any others around here."

"Until you marry the little whore, she's my responsibility. I'll talk to her how I see fit in MY house. Now, if you or her don't like that, you can get the hell out."

"Is this really your house?"

She gasped. "Please don't."

"Don't what? Let your new papa talk for himself, Teresa."

"The way I see it, this is Teresa's house."

Papa laughed. "Sure it is. Since when? I maintain this family."

"Since I bought the house from the bank. You don't work, and she's struggling to make sure the house is kept up and paid for to keep you off the streets. It seems to me if she does everything here, then it's her house."

"You did what? I pay the bills here!"

"How? By laying around and drinking? You can't even pay your bar tab!"

"Sam, please! That's enough! We have cake! Who wants cake?"

Papa jumped up from the table. "Get the hell out of my house!"

"I think you mean 'Teresa's house.'"

"Nay. I mean my house, you filthy bastard. You think you're better than me because you have a little money? Get out and take your little whore with you if she pleases you so much."

"Papa…"

"I don't want to hear it, girl! I'm tired of you thinking you have some upper hand because you're selling yourself off to him. I won't have a no good whore living in my house. Get out!"

"Papa, please! It's not like that at all! Sam has never been improper."

He scoffed. "Sam, is it? Get out of my house."

"Papa!" Tommy intervened.

"Boy, shut your trap! I am your father, not the other way around."

"Why does T have to leave?" Jimmy was tearful. He had even less idea of what was happening or why than she did.

Stan admonished him. "Be quiet, Jimmy. Don't get involved."

"She's not your mother, boy. Quit crying and be a man! Nay, if your mother were alive she'd be disappointed in how you turned out, girl. Get your shite and get out."

She looked to Tommy with pleading eyes to help her, but he just looked away. She padded toward the room she shared with Jimmy and grabbed her belongings and her savings. As she grabbed her parka, she looked toward her father again, making one last plea.

"Papa, please don't make me go. I'm sorry for what I did." Only, she had no idea what she did to make him kick her out of their family home like this.

"Get out before I toss you out! I have no daughter no more!" He spat.

As she began to cry, she felt Sam's hand on her elbow, guiding her to the door. "Teresa, it's ok. Let's go." He looked over at papa. "You're done around here."

She knelt down to hug Jimmy, who was sobbing. "Please don't go, Teresa! Please don't leave me! Papa, please don't make her go!"

"Shut up, boy! Maybe it will be good for you to get away from your sister's skirts, so you can stop being so soft!" Papa had never been very fond of Jimmy, and sometimes, he could be cruel.

She held his cheeks in her hands. "I would never leave you, Jimmy. I'll be by to check up on you. You better be eating your vegetables. Tommy, take care of them. Stan, mind Tommy and watch out for Jimmy."

The boys nodded at her, and Sam ushered her out of the door. All she could hear were Jimmy's sobs as she left their little yellow house for the last time.

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She barely registered when they had arrived at Sam's as he started to help her out of the car. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go inside."

Nothing registered and nothing really mattered anymore. All she could hear were Jimmy's sobs as papa called her a no good whore and threw her out of their home. She had no home now.

"Teresa, do you have a night gown?"

She didn't answer him as he started to go through her bag. She could only stare into the room, thinking about what had happened. Why did papa make her leave? What did she do to make him hate her so much?

Sam kept talking to her, but she didn't really hear him. She wanted to go home and beg for her papa's mercy. After that level of disrespect, she would disavow this whole courtship business if that's what he wanted. When she looked down, she was wearing a nightgown that she'd never seen before. Then, she was in bed. She felt the other side of the bed get heavy. That's when she began to sob.

"Sweetheart, it's ok." He drew closer to her as he started to rub her arm. "Everything will be ok. I promise. You're safe here."

"Ok? My papa disowned me, and I don't have a home!"

"Of course you have a home! You can stay here with me. If you want, I'll see about getting a bed brought into the changing room. Or you can stay in here with me if you'd like."

She sat up and shrugged away from him. "Stay in here with you?! That's how I got into this whole mess! I wish I were smart enough not to get involved in anything like this. How could you?"

"How could I do what?"

"You made my papa so angry. I begged you not to say anything."

He sighed. "Teresa, you have never deserved to be treated that way. I could tell you that you're better off, but you wouldn't believe me. Not right now. You might want to think of me as the bad guy..."

"You brought him whiskey! He was doing so good. Why did you do that? Is it because you knew he'd say 'yes' to whatever you asked him? Did you hope he'd just toss me to you? Is this what you wanted?"

He continued. "You might think I'm the bad guy here because it's easier to blame me than him, but I'm not. I would never do anything to cause you pain. When you think through this, you will see that a weight has been taken off of your shoulders. You don't deserve to be disrespected that way, and I have half a mind to have McAllister go throw him out into a gutter tomorrow."

"Don't! Stop interfering! You've done enough to my family!" She thought of poor, confused Jimmy sobbing as she left, and her own sobs began again.

"Come here." He held his arms open to her. When she didn't move, he sat up to embrace her. "You're going to be just fine and so will the boys. I'll take care of you."

"I'm going to talk to my papa tomorrow. If he wants me to end this courtship, I will. My family means more to me than anything else. And I don't know if I want to be in a courtship with a man who would disrespect my papa that way. This was all such a big mistake! What was I even thinking?"

He sighed as he tightened his embrace. "Teresa...I don't want you to think that way. You'd rather run back to abuse than accept my love and protection. What's this really about? Jimmy? We can bring him to stay here, if you want."

"What I want is to go home with my family! I don't want my papa to hate me. He said he didn't have a daughter anymore. I have to go see him tomorrow and fix this. I have to do whatever he wants to make this right. I need to be with my brothers."

"And what do you think you will fix? How long has he been talking to you that way and hitting you while you run the entire household? You take it and hold your head up because you think good daughters should do that. Well, I don't, and I won't let you be treated that way. Like I said, if you want, we can bring Jimmy to live here-Stan and Tommy too, if they want."

"I don't need you to tell me how I want to be treated. It is none of your concern! These are family matters!"

"And soon, we will be family. I don't want to fight with you about this. I just want you to know that you have a home, one where you are loved, appreciated, and protected. I'm sorry you're hurting." He kissed the side of her head before pulling her down to the mattress. She fell into a fitful, restless sleep as he stroked her hair.