Cherry and Cinny- I hid there lurking, wincing, writing strange things that didn't mean much on paper. You peeked and you saw something. "Change," you said. "Keep it going, Happening." So I did and I thank you. I've got Lincoln's heart and you have mine.

Readers- You're beautiful, reading words I never thought you would. Don't look for a happy ending, child. You already found it in a treehouse, long ago.

See y'all on Monday!

UPDATE: Beta Lover Blueeyedcherry has written a beautiful piece on FicSisters for Birmingham. She never stops. I love you so. TY TY hun! Go check it out!

Chapter 12: North Star

"When you get real old, honey, you realize there are certain things that just don't matter anymore. You lay it all on the table. There's a saying that only little children and old folks tell the truth."

~Sarah Louise Delaney

(IPOV)

I couldn't even count the amount of times Father used the N-word.

He knocked several chairs over while yelling obscenities and telling me what a disgrace I was to the Swan name. Each threat was intentionally cruel and malicious, reminding me how I would never see Lincoln again.

"No daughter of mine!" he continuously repeated.

"I'll kill him, damn it!"

"If I so much even think you are seeing that fucking animal …"

I lied about where I was and how I escaped. I told him that I didn't see Esme run into the yard or know how she must have been the one to set Lincoln free. I lied and said that Jenks found me in town and made me come home.

The fibs rolled off of my tongue, each one more bitter than the last. I glared at Mother, standing there looking aloof and apologetic, and saying nothing.

Negroes weren't the only ones who knew their place. Mother had found hers too, and her feet were cemented in a pool of obedience and compliance.

My mouth ran dry as Father pointed towards the stairs, signaling me to go my room. I didn't think he'd allow me to leave ever again and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a bolt already installed. I obliged and crossed the marble floor, sulking and taking heavy steps weighed with my own guilt.

I slammed my door, finally taking off my kitten heels, and lay across the bed. My hair was a knotted mess and my dress was stained, but I didn't bother changing or showering. My heart throbbed and my eyes burned from crying so much.

I didn't have any tears left, just a small beacon of hope that ignited within me. Lincoln promised—no, he swore on his life—he'd meet me tomorrow in town. I didn't know how he'd do it or if he'd actually follow through, but I was holding on to his word like an oath made in blood. I trusted him more than I trusted my own family. He loved me without reason, when I wasn't even worth loving, and I loved him back for one of many reasons.

I felt it in every heartbeat, in every ounce of blood that flowed in my veins. Perhaps I was consumed, having never loved a boy, and maybe that left me naïve, but I didn't know anything else. After yesterday I would do anything to protect Lincoln. I didn't have the nerve to tell him that, but I would defy Father over and over again if it meant being with him.

I sighed, my eyes betraying me with tears, as I rolled over and hugged my pillow. I inhaled his faint scent, pulling it close to my nose. I closed my eyes, prepared to drift off into a fantasy land filled with dragons and castles and knights who truly existed in real life.

Perhaps I didn't know much about young love, but I knew Lincoln.

I exhaled, dreaming of the boy who had forever changed my life.

.

.

.

"Miss Scarlett?"

A soft knock thudded against the door and I stirred in my sleep.

"Miss Scarlett?"

Exhausted, I peeked toward the entrance of my room, where Jenks had opened the door and was holding a silver tray.

"Come in," I moaned. I wiped my face, sticky with sweat and dried tears, as Jenks approached the bed.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Miss Scarlett. Mrs. Swan thought it be time you eat some supper. I can't cook as good as Esme, but I did my best." He laid the tray on my nightstand, standing back with folded hands.

"Thanks, Jenks.."

"It's my pleasure, Miss Scarlett." Jenks nodded his head and spun on the soles of his black shoes. He'd changed into cleaner attire, clothing that was free of sweat, and his shirt was pressed and ironed. He wasn't wearing his gloves for once and his gray hair seemed even grayer today, as if one day in his world was like living a lifetime.

"You don't have to do that."

Jenks stopped, turning mid-way to look at me. His dark brown eyes and wrinkled skin reflected a man with more knowledge than my Father had ever acquired with his Ivy League education. "Do what, Miss Scarlett?"

"That," I said firmly, sitting upright in the bed. "Calling me Miss and treating me with respect. Helping my friends and helping me ..." I glanced down, ashamed of my actions.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked. "These old feet are worn out today."

I nodded, gesturing to the chair beside my bed. It was the same one I'd pulled up to sit inches away from Lincoln when I was too much of a coward to know any better.

"I was born a lifetime ago," he began, glancing off into the distance. "I was born in a shed, where my own maw and papa were slaves. It was miracle they'd stayed together, 'cause most Negros was separated, families torn apart. But somehow, my folks stayed together. My maw used to tell me I was born under the North Star, the one she prayed under for blacks to be free."

"What's your first name?" I asked curiously. I'd always called him Jenks. It hadn't mattered to me before, but now it seemed important.

Jenks smiled, the lines around his mouth spreading upward. "One day, when we ain't got silk and silver platters sitting between us, I'd be happy to tell you, Miss Scarlett."

I half-grinned because for once even though he was defying me, I knew he had his reasons. "Well, go on. You were born under the North Star …"

"Ahh, yes. Maw used to tell me, 'Baby, one day these white folks ain't gonna look at us as slaves. They gonna look at us like people with real blood and feelings and love running through us.' I ain't believe her 'cause she'd come back with her back split open and her face crushed in. She'd been raped, beaten, burned, and knocked out 'til we couldn't even recognize her."

"Oh Jenks! That's awful!" I gasped and felt such pity for him. I didn't know what I'd do if someone had treated Mother that way.

"Yessiree, it was tough times. You see, the President signed that paper, but it didn't mean nothing. Black folks didn't have nowhere to go. They were stuck in the exact place they were sold. My kin is buried on a plantation out in Georgia. I hope the good Lord lets me see them before I die."

A knot was stuck in my throat and I was close to crying all over again. I couldn't imagine how life was for him and frankly, I'd never asked. "I hope you do too, Jenks."

"Thank you, Miss Scarlett. The reason I'm telling you this is 'cause my maw was right. White folks will look at us with real blood and feelings and love. You know how I know that?"

I shook my head, silently fumbling with my comforter.

"'Cause of you, Miss Scarlett. In all of my 91 years, I ain't never had a white look upon me in pity like you did that one day Mister Charles …" He trailed off, swallowing. "But, you did. And pity? That's something. It means you're starting to feel. And you gave me them cookies and it was the kindest thing."

Cookies? Jenks was thanking me for cookies?

I gawked at him in astonishment. "Jenks, I treated you horribly! I am so sorry. I've pushed you and called you names and then you helped me save Lincoln and—"

I couldn't help myself. It had been an emotional rollercoaster and the waterworks flooded down my face. Jenks reached out his hand, smiling at me fondly.

"You hush that cryin', Miss Scarlett. No need to apologize. I think some folks are born racist and, well, others are taught. You're the latter and you've done more than enough to make it for it."

I placed my trembling hand in his and he covered it with his other one. "I want you to do me a favor. You keep loving that Lincoln boy. That's the kind of love that's gonna change this world. It's going to flip it upside down and when it does, I'm gonna stand at my maw and papa's graves, telling them there's a lil' white girl out in Alabama who done good. I'm gonna tell 'em all about you and them cookies and how you love folks like they're real."

I smiled through my tears and Jenks let go of my hand and stood up, brushing off his trousers. "Eat that soup 'fore it gets cold. You can't meet that boy on an empty stomach."

I glanced up at him, surprised by his comment, but Jenks just laughed. "Slaves were smart. They built homes so they could hear their masters coming with a vengeance. Thin walls here and thin walls at the Masen house, Miss Scarlett."

I blushed and Jenks grinned back, giving me a wink before walking out of my bedroom. He closed the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar.

We hadn't been fooling anybody. Jenks knew all along Lincoln was here. Instead of being angry, I reached over for the tray, setting it in my lap. The hot broth tasted spicy on my tongue and though it wasn't as good as Esme's, it was just right.

.

.

.

The next morning when I woke up, it was quiet. I showered and dressed in a pale green dress with swirled patterns, a matching ribbon, and tiny pearl earrings. I finally peeked out of my doorway. Jenks was standing at the bottom of the stairs, dusting. I assumed he had to fill in for Esme and hoped he wasn't wearing himself too thin.

"You can come on out, Miss Scarlett. Heard Mister Charles on the phone and he'll working late. Mrs. Swan's out at the agency looking for a new housekeeper and running errands. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

"I don't want to get you into trouble, Jenks."

He laughed, moving his feather duster along the railing. "Hard being old. Shame these eyes don't see like they used too."

I squealed and grinned, running back to grab my purse. Jenks could see plenty and I took that for my cue to leave. I jetted down the stairs, taking two at a time. "Thank you!"

"You tell that Mister Lincoln I said 'hi'."

I nodded, waving goodbye and heading out the front door. It was nice and bright outside, and I hoped that was a sign it would be a good day. Several neighbors waved as I walked down the sidewalk and I hummed to myself, nearly skipping along the way. I glanced around once in a while, hoping Mother wouldn't arrive home early, but it wasn't her. I thought of all the things I would say to Lincoln when I finally saw him and blushed to myself at all of the things I couldn't.

I was so busy in my thoughts that I arrived on the busy street corner sometime after 10 a.m. It wasn't too busy for a Friday, but the signs posted on the opposite side of the street alerted me of the impending change. Freedom Rally, this Saturday, beginning at noon.

There wasn't a single white store with the posters on its windows. It was as if they thought it would never happen if they looked the other way. I knew Lincoln had mentioned his father attending and I hoped he would be safe.

I had directed Lincoln to the only safe place I knew of, the Olden Golden Thrift Shop. I crossed the street and arrived there to find Nessie outside with a wooden broom, sweeping the sidewalk. She grinned when she saw me and swept debris into the street.

"Scarlett! How wonderful to see you again. Is your mother with you?"

I shook my head. "No ma'am. I'm, uh, waiting here for … a friend."

"On the wrong side to be by yourself, don't you think?" Nessie glanced at me worriedly and stopped sweeping to hold the broom under her arm.

"I think he'll blend in," I answered nonchalantly.

Nessie laughed, her brown skin almost sparkling in the sun. "He, is it? I should have known that necklace wasn't for you! Well, don't hang out here too long. Folks are riled up, just waiting on an excuse to act stupid. If you need anything, I'll be right inside."

"Thanks." I shifted nervously as Nessie went back into the store. I paced back and forth, counting the cracks in the sidewalk and ants crawling in rows. By the time I had finished, I glanced upward.

It was him.

Lincoln!

He was dressed in the same clothes of Father's I had given him long ago, and I hadn't even realized he took them the last time. He strolled down the white side, bravely walking with a hat I'd never seen before and a limp in his step. His face was still slightly bruised, even from afar, but he was as handsome as he'd always been.

He smiled when he saw me, tipping the worn brown hat with a hole on the side. He half-hobbled, half-ran to me, crushing me as he wrapped his arms around me. The hat fell off and beneath was a shaved head. "Scarlett!"

He placed both hands on my cheeks and kissed me passionately, making me feel dizzy on my feet. I closed my eyes just to feel every emotion and every part of him. I didn't think I'd ever get used to it—not him, not ever.

I pulled back first, laughing. "That's quite the hello!"

He shrugged, smirking with that beautiful cocky smile, and finally bent over to retrieve his hat. "I'm not even close to being done. C'mon!"

He grabbed my hand and we ran to the whites only side, crossing the street and flying past a hair salon and boutique. I huffed, trying to catch up in my heels. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see!" He yelled back, grinning and holding onto his hat with his free hand. We nearly knocked over an older couple along the way, but they moved over just in time. He crossed an alley and ran to a rusted blue door, jerking it open. I jumped through the entrance after him and it slammed shut.

The building was completely empty and dark except for the light piercing through the high windows. Lincoln dragged a steel beam from the middle of the floor and propped it against the door. He breathed heavily, excited we were finally together.

"How'd you find this place?" I asked, glancing around. "And where'd you get the hat?"

He held out his hand in a grand motion. "This, my princess Scarlett, is our newest castle. Courtesy of Jenks, might I add. He told me about this warehouse yesterday, but I had trouble finding it. That's why I was late. And the hat I found in the dumpster."

I laughed, wrinkling my nose. "That's gross."

"It's mine, that's what it is," he boasted proudly, spinning the hat to the floor. "As are you."

He lifted me in his arms, twirling me around in the musty, dark room. It didn't matter. It was a sanctuary, a place we could call our own with not a single dragon coming after us. I had my knight in dumpster armor and he was absolutely perfect.

"How'd you manage to sneak out?" I asked breathlessly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He kissed me softly, first my lips, then my nose.

"I didn't."

"What?" I asked astonished. What did that mean?

"I tried," he explained, "but let me tell you, my ma is no fool. She caught me climbing out the window, made me promise not to tell Pa, and drove me to the stoplight."

"She knows you're here?!" I couldn't believe it. Here I was, scared of every passing vehicle, and he just breezed down the street like it was nothing—and with Esme's permission at that.

"Not here here," he emphasized. "Ma thinks I'm meeting you for some shows. Or at least that's what she nodded at. Like I said, she's no fool."

I had a million questions but none of them seemed important at the moment. The whys or hows didn't matter; the only relevant thing was him. I smiled involuntarily. Everything about Lincoln made me happy. I felt overwhelmed in his presence, but the excited kind of overwhelmed, like the knots I got in my stomach on Christmas morning. Only he was the best kind of present, one I would treasure forever.

He seemed to read my mind and he lowered his mouth to mine. The room smelled stale, as if it hadn't been clean in years, but I barely registered the thought. His hands strummed down my cheeks, along my collarbone, and tickled me on my arms. I shuddered and he chuckled against my lips. "You're not cold, are you?"

I shook my head, blushing and hoping he didn't notice in the dimly lit room. "No. It's just you."

He groaned and our lips met once more, this time with a hunger he'd never revealed in the treehouse or in my room. He kissed me roughly, pressing his body against me and walking me backward until my back hit the cement wall with a thud. I waited for the excruciating pain, but his hands were behind my head to help cushion it.

Lincoln only parted our lips to breathe into my mouth, whispering my name. "I love you, Scarlett Swan."

I wanted to repeat my devotion, every word filled with meaning, until he grinded against me. I felt a large lump press against my belly button and gasped.

I was young and inexperienced and naïve in the worst way possible, but I knew some things. Alice made sure of it when I was 13 and she told me all about her and her boyfriend and the things they did.

And now it was happening to me.

I was caught between being excited and feeling faint. Lincoln pulled back, shaking his head and stuttering. "I'm sorry. I … uh … damnit! I just …"

I was just as embarrassed as he was, if not more, but I bravely sought his green eyes out in the shadowy light. "It's okay, Lincoln. I, um, was just caught off guard, I think."

"I'm a gentleman, Scarlett. I wasn't trying to make you do things," he whispered softly. "I just got too eager, that's all."

I'll say, I thought sarcastically. But inside, I was thrilled it was because of me.

"You don't have to stop," I murmured shyly. I liked it. Maybe it was the darkness giving me false courage, but it was all that Lincoln needed. He moaned and it sent shivers to places no boy had ever seen. He moved his hands from me and before I could protest what he was doing, he had unbuttoned his collared shirt and spread it on the hard, cement floor. There was something terrifying about this moment, but also something wonderful too.

He held my hand, guiding me downward and kissing me again. He tasted of soft mint candy and cigarettes, a combination that was such a reflection of him. We moved our lips firmly and when he guided me on my back, I didn't even protest.

Lincoln's tongue licked me along my jaw and traveled to the soft spot below my ear. It felt good and new and intimidating, with him hovering just over me. I ran my fingers down the t-shirt he still wore, just along his spine, and he pushed his lower half against mine. I tensed as a jolt shot through my body, one of need accompanied by aches that didn't hurt.

His hand moved slowly along my outer right thigh and he adjusted my leg so that it curved upward, with my knee bent. Lincoln thrust into me again, making my dress slide higher and higher up my legs. I was trying to relax, but everything about what was happening was making me squirm.

Lincoln paused, his lips lingering near my ear. "Too much?"

I was too busy enjoying the sensations, trying to figure out the strange feelings sparking in places I had never ever touched myself. I'd never tried to pleasure myself before, unlike Alice who was not ashamed to tell me what to do in perfect detail. But this—having a boy like Lincoln—was also new territory. I didn't get a chance to figure it all out as he bit-sucked the side of my neck and grinded into me again.

I gasped in his ear, clawing at his back so that he would continue. I understood this wasn't "making love," as my cousin so aptly named it, but if this was what it was like, I craved more. Lincoln's hand journeyed down to my left breast, which he lightly squeezed. He groaned in response, lifting his hips and pounding against my center.

"Lincoln!" I was barely able to half-scream his name when he sped up his movements, plunging against me again and again. An intense feeling made my legs tremble and my heart race and everything in me seem to multiply as he cradled and thrust me against the shirt-covered floor. My breath hitched as I felt chills run through and over me.

I'd never, ever had so much passion and adoration for someone as I had for Edward Lincoln. He made me want to be a better person for others, but he also made me want to be perfect for him. I nudged his lips until he kissed me again frantically. I couldn't tell if the heat was from me or him, but it didn't matter. My skin, my heart, and my lungs … everything burned for him. I moaned as our wet mouths moved simultaneously. I could feel him breathing erratically as he tried to keep up the kisses, but he couldn't.

"Scarlett … I …" Lincoln buried his lips and face in my neck and gripped me much too tightly. He groaned—thrusting, thrusting, thrusting at a maddening pace—before holding his body still against mine. He held himself there, shivering and trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Fuck! I am so …" He couldn't decide whether he should apologize or gasp for air. I giggled against him, thinking that I knew what had happened. I felt a sore throb at my center, but hearing him pant was worth the subsiding tingles. "It wasn't supposed to be like that."

I shrugged. I didn't know what anything was supposed to be like and I know he didn't as well.

"I think it felt like it was supposed to," I told him as he sat up, helping me pull the hem of my dress down.

"But you didn't, do, you know." He frowned at his pants and I had the sinking suspicion he was wet and uncomfortable.

I smiled, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"That's the best thing about having our own castle," I giggled. "We can do it again tomorrow."

I think I'd underestimated Lincoln Masen, because in his world, tomorrow was not promised.

I realized there was no point in arguing with him. After 16 years of hiding, he had every right to kiss me over and over again.

So when he rolled his eyes, called me Princess Scarlett, and pulled me on top of him as he lay on his back, I let him.

Tomorrow could wait.