Chapter 2 - THE BOY WHO KEPT A PAPER BOAT
“Little Sparrow?”
Fay stared at Rafferty Cain.
The name seemed to reach across decades and touch a place inside her that poverty, exhaustion, and grief had never managed to erase.
She remembered a monastery.
Gray walls.
Rainwater collecting in stone gutters.
And a boy who refused to cry even when fever made him shake.
But that boy had been called Rafe.
Not Rafferty Cain.
“Where did you hear that name?” she whispered.
Rafferty did not answer immediately.
He looked at the paper boat lying between them.
Then at Fay's face.
“You used to make these for a boy who couldn't sleep.”
Fay's lips parted.
“You remember?”
His gray eyes filled with something she had never expected to see in a man like him.
Pain.
“I kept one.”
Silvano shifted near the doorway.
“Boss?”
Rafferty barely heard him.
He was looking at the girl who had once sat beside his narrow monastery bed, folding paper into impossible little boats and promising that someday both of them would sail away.
Twenty-five years earlier, Rafferty had been a lonely child at Saint Brigid's House.
He was ten.
Fay was six.
Her mother, Marguerite, worked in the monastery kitchen and occasionally brought her daughter when she couldn't afford childcare.
Fay was small, stubborn, and forever carrying scraps of colored paper.
She had noticed the boy who sat alone beneath the staircase.
He never joined the games.
Never asked for anything.
And never smiled.
One winter, he became dangerously ill.
The sisters did what they could.
But during the long nights, it was Fay who slipped into his room and told him stories.
Stories about boats.
Storms.
Brave captains.
And a place where nobody was ever abandoned.
She called him Captain Rafe.
He called her Little Sparrow.
Then one spring morning, Rafferty was taken away.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Fay waited for him for weeks.
Eventually, her mother told her the boy had gone somewhere safer.
Fay never knew whether that was true.
Now, twenty-five years later, Rafferty was holding her upright in a corridor where she'd been forced to kneel for hours.
He looked at her swollen knees.
His expression hardened.
“Who did this?”
Fay shook her head.
“Please don't make trouble.”
“Fay.”
She looked up.
He had never said her name before.
Yet somehow it sounded familiar.
“Who?”
Before she could answer, Celeste appeared at the far end of the corridor.
“There you are, Rafferty.”
She stopped when she saw him supporting Fay.
Her smile disappeared.
“What is she doing?”
Rafferty rose slowly.
“That's what I'm trying to understand.”
Celeste glanced at Fay.
“Oh, the waitress. She ruined my dress.”
Rafferty looked at the dark stain on Celeste's gown.
Then back at Fay.
“And?”
Celeste laughed lightly.
“I taught her a lesson.”
Silvano's face darkened.
Rafferty said nothing.
That silence frightened Celeste more than anger would have.
“What lesson?” he asked.
Celeste lifted her chin.
“Respect.”
Rafferty looked at Fay.
Her hands were shaking.
Her knees had begun to bleed through the thin fabric of her uniform.
He turned back to Celeste.
“You made a woman kneel on stone for hours because of spilled wine?”
Celeste's smile tightened.
“She was careless.”
Rafferty took one step toward her.
“Did you order her to remain there?”
Celeste hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“Yes.”
Rafferty removed the engagement ring box from his pocket.
Celeste stared.
“What are you doing?”
He placed it on a nearby table.
“Ending a mistake.”
Her face went white.
“Rafferty.”
“The engagement is over.”
Silvano inhaled sharply.
Celeste looked from one man to the other.
“You can't be serious.”
Rafferty's voice was cold.
“I've never been more serious.”
Celeste's expression twisted.
“You're choosing a servant over me?”
Rafferty looked at Fay.
Then back at Celeste.
“I'm choosing not to marry someone who enjoys humiliating people.”
Celeste's eyes flashed.
“You'll regret this.”
“Perhaps.”
He turned away.
“But I won't regret tonight.”
Fay tried to speak.
“Mr. Cain—”
“Rafferty.”
She blinked.
He softened his voice.
“Please.”
She looked down.
“I don't want to be the reason—”
“You aren't.”
He crouched beside her again.
“Celeste made her choices. I'm making mine.”
Then he looked at Silvano.
“Get a doctor. And find Mrs. Odette.”
Silvano nodded.
As they helped Fay toward the sitting room, Rafferty picked up the blue paper boat.
He held it carefully.
Then whispered:
“You promised we'd sail away.”
Fay looked at him.
Tears filled her eyes.
“And you promised you'd come back.”
May you like
He stopped walking.
For the first time in twenty-five years, Rafferty Cain had no answer.
