Prologue:
Rain streaked the window pain that Sara stared through, her eyes mirroring the same water streaks that slid down the window. The day had been dark, almost too much to bear. Sara was eighteen, and on the day of her very birthday, her father had a stroke and died shortly after.
There was only one time she ever remembered feeling so lost in the world, and that was the first time she thought he had died in the war. But this time, she was able to see him lying lifeless on the hospital bed, and heard his last whispered words. And somehow it hurt much more seeing him dying then just hearing about as she had years ago.
Memories of her father was now flashing through her mind, heart and soul. She remembered dancing with him on the ship on her way to New York, remembered how she always awaited for him to tuck her into bed. And, how he had been there every day for her until she finally became a young woman…
"Sara…" She heard Becky whispered from the doorway, her voice comforting with a hint of her own pain for the loss. Sara's father had been much like a father for Becky as well.
"He's gone, Becky," Sara whispered, and for the first time, she felt like her world had just shattered. Despite how much her father had made sure that in death his money and house would go to her, and even though Sarah still knew she had Becky there to help her through the loss—she still felt so utterly alone.
She had a dream, and her father was helping her reach it, despite all the limitations that held her down. She wanted to become a writer for children, and had one particular book she had been trying to get published for almost a year. Many critics said it was uniquely written, and captured the reads into a world of enchantment… and then came the hesitance.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Crewe, but we do not except women writers."
"He's in a better place now, Sara, he's happy."
Sara wiped her tears from her face and shook her head. "I want to believe that, but I just can't go on without him." She turned from the window seat and faced Becky, "I need to give up on my book."
Becky's face contorted into pure shock, and then she shook her head vigorously. "No, no, you can't!"
"The publishers only want Men, Becky. My father was the only person who could have made a difference!" She sat down and faced the window again, losing strength in the argument and in herself.
Becky was quiet a long moment, and through the reflection of the window, Sara saw the awkwardness that her friend was feeling. She sighed and curled up against the window, and watched people hurrying in the streets and out of the rain. "Don't give up, Sara. Please, if you lose your strength, then I lose mine too." Becky finally said, "I'm a colored citizen, and I know you don't see it that way, but everyone else does. I get treated badly, and get judged wrongly, but I have been able to keep walking because of you."
"I'm sorry," Sara whispered, bowing her head so she did not have to look at her friend.
"Find someone, Sara. There has to be someone else that will help you." As Becky turned to leave the room, she stopped and whispered. "Please, don't give up. If anyone can show those publishing companies all women are princesses and worth just as much as the men… It's you."