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“There is nothing mutual about this, except, perhaps, my silence.”
Cast out by her parents because of teenage pregnancy, Elizabeth Simmons has worked hard to support her son. She finally lands a housemaid’s job with great pay and a free apartment. But Mr. Booth has selected Miss Simmons very carefully. Completely vulnerable to being exploited and controlled, she is precisely what he has in mind. But what Mr. Booth doesn’t know is that Miss Simmons’ ordinary exterior hides an extraordinary secret, one that can change their lives in ways they never imagined.
This short story contains mature content.
Elaine Jemmett
Elaine Jemmett was born in the city and raised in the country, the youngest child of three. She grew up a tumbling tomboy behind two brothers, and spent her free time rambling in the woods with the family dog, practising archery and horseback riding, and later, martial arts. Elaine graduated from Toronto’s York University with a degree in English Literature and worked as a legal editor, general editor, and author’s representative. The Legacy and the Lion is her first published novel. She lives in the country outside of Toronto with her husband, two children, and two adoptees – a gracious guinea pig and a curious cat. Visit Elaine Jemmett’s website at https://ElaineJemmett.ca to find out more about The Yusan Chronicles and Elaine Jemmett’s other works.
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Value - Elaine Jemmett
VALUE
ELAINE JEMMETT
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, locations, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright 2018 Elaine Jemmett
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-0-9953272-4-5 (epub). – ISBN 987-0-9953272-5-2 (mobi)
Published by Titonik Books, Canada, at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this eBook. This work remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
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For the oblivious
Contents
Start of Value
Author’s Note
About the Author
Books by Elaine Jemmett
Free Sample Chapter
The ceiling of the wine cellar is warped. It’s just a subtle undulation of the drywall, just a tiny thing. But noticing tiny things has gotten me into plenty of trouble over the years. I could try to believe that my current predicament began when I noticed the faux pearl buttons on Mr. Booth’s shirt, but that’s hardly the case. Really, it started when I noticed Jerry Eldridge’s fingernails. They were spotlessly clean, buffed, and filed to precisely the same length. I’d never seen the like, and I was to delight in those perfect fingernails many times during the year of Jerry.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Jerry, or noticing the flaw in the ceiling. I should be thinking about my problem. Because Jordan is in the house, right now. And Mr. Booth has met Jordan. And Mr. Booth is not stupid. He might discover what Jordan is. That exposure could trigger a cascade of shock and resentment, icy words, packed bags, the future in ashes.
Chloe’s laugh bounds downstairs. It is a blast of cheer, her laugh; the trumpet of a life thoroughly enjoyed. It usually makes me smile, but not tonight. Instead it takes me back to the first time I heard it. This is during my job interview. I make a joke out of an embarrassing moment and Chloe laughs. Mr. Booth does not. I can tell that she likes me and he doesn’t, and I’m sure I’ve blown my chance at great pay and a free apartment.
Five weeks later I’m living in that apartment, over their massive garage. I’ve cleaned the Booths’ kitchen and seen Paige off to bed. It’s dark when I get back to my rooms, and I draw the curtains. When I’m closing the last one I see a flash of red at the bottom of the driveway – the tail-lights of Chloe’s car.
A knock sounds. Miss Simons, I’m here to do my nightly check.
Every night Mr. Booth checks every door and window, not trusting the security system. I don’t know why I’m scared, but I certainly am. He wastes no time in confirming my fears and backs me against the wall. His fingers dig into my wrists and he kisses me so hard I’m sure my top lip is splitting against my teeth. It’s all right,
he says, as if it is.
I don’t want to be kissed by him. I don’t want to be pinned against this wall by him, and I especially don’t want his hand burrowing under my dress. No,
means nothing. He’s sure he is entitled.
He pushes up, bullying his way into dry, unwilling me. Don’t tell me you didn’t want this,
he whispers. I saw you looking at my chest.
I was looking at his buttons. They were shiny-white and lovely and I thought they looked odd on a man’s shirt.
When he’s finished he strokes the tears from my face. The intercom buzzes and it’s Paige,