*****

All of Spanish Town was quiet, as it should be during the early hours of the day. Men, women, and children slept peacefully in their beds, content with their life.

Catherine leaned against the window, the glass cooling the skin on her forehead. She sighed, watching as her breath briefly fogged up the window. How could they be so content with such a constricting lifestyle? Each and everyone of them had a set place in society, a set of unspoken rules they followed until they were finally reclaimed by the Maker.

Maybe that's why her father left….

'He tried to be someone he wasn't.'

What was he then? Who was he? Cat knew very well she would not get any answers out of her mother. The conversation they had earlier had been a strange, indeed. Catherine could not remember a time her mother had spoken so freely about her father. When she had been younger, and just discovering a conventional family consisted of more than a mother and daughter, her mother had avoided all her questions. And then there was the night she'd found out…

~~~~~

Catherine stomped into the house, her face flushed red with anger. That dim-witted, bigoted, old hag… The thirteen year old wished then that she had a list of curse words she could use. Dim-witted and bigoted weren't good enough insults for that witch! From now on she would pay attention when she passed the tavern. The next time she ran into Mrs. Long-

"Catherine, did you get the linens I need?" Her mother called from the kitchen. Cat marched through the door and slammed the basket holding the fabric down on the table. Anne spun around from where she was cleaning vegetables.

"Catherine, you will control that temper!" She scolded.

"Why don't you tell me about my father?" Cat demanded, catching Anne off guard.

"Do not use that tone of voice with me." Anne said, avoiding the subject like always.

"Mother! I am thirteen years of age. I am no longer a child. Why do you avoid speaking about him?"

"Catherine Byrde-"

"I need to know! What are you afraid-"

"HE ABANDONED US!" Anne screamed, then froze, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

Catherine felt like she had been slapped in the face. "Wh-what?"

Anne shook her head, turning away from her only daughter.

"Mother, please." Cat moved closer to her mother, hesitantly holding out a hand as if to touch Anne's shoulder.

"Your father left us when you were a few months old." Anne whispered in a strangled voice, ending the sentence with a soft sob.

~~~~~

Cat shook her head, her eyes focusing on the glass in front of her. She had never mentioned her father again. Over the years she had perfected ridding her mind of any thoughts concerning him. So why did he so stubbornly grasp her thoughts now?