To say I was outraged would be an understatement. A girl couldn't get any peace in the city, but at that moment, when I had just had a deeply private conversation, I had never been more upset.

"You followed me?!" I nearly dropped my basket in both anger and shock.

"For someone who is so good and caring for people, leaving guests in your house is low," he said casually, leaning on the wall next to the door.

As much as I hated him, I couldn't help but admit to myself that he was handsome. He could be harsh, but he was kind as well. He held himself away from his comrades, but he still interacted, refraining from getting himself carried away. Tall, handsome, and with a gentle but stiff side. It was attractive.

I gently shook my head. What was I thinking? This is the same man that followed me from my own house, who stood by and held me away from my brother. He was on the opposite side of my family and stood for everything I was supposed to be against. I hated him No, those thoughts weren't real, I just hated him and the others in my house. I replaced my other thoughts with negative ones

He was manipulative, controlling, and strict. He cared nothing for anyone but himself. He showed that when he let the Colonel take away my brother. He showed it as he held me back from a proper goodbye. He invaded my privacy by looking through my things. There were many ways and reasons I could hate him, so I did.

"Me? Low? You're the one invading my privacy you imbecile." I wanted to slap that smirk off of his face as I spoke. So I raised my hand to strike him out of impulse.

Before I could hit him he grabbed my wrist and stepped close to me, lowering his voice, "I wouldn't consider that wise girl."

I jerked my hand out of his rather hard grip and stepped back responding, "For a soldier and an officer, you have no sense of respect."

I turned away and quickly walked back down the street towards my house. I could feel his eyes on me, then heard his footsteps start as he followed me. The small about of kindness I may have had towards him had disappeared as quickly as a summer shower. I hated him, I hated where he came from. That meant to me that I hated England, I hated my mothers family, and most of all hated everyone in my house. I walked back into my house, silently fuming, and hiding my emotions. That was one sure way to get in trouble.

Instead of walking home, I walked to my neighbor's house to see how she was doing. Layla was a dear childhood friend of mine, who was now married with two adorable children. I knew that if I had soldiers in my house, she certainly did too, and she'd have a harder time. And it was an excuse to get away from the occupants for a while.

I walked up her front step and knocked, glancing around the street to make sure Kirkland wasn't still following. But of course he was, but he was occupied with a fellow officer. I heard the door open and turned my attention to it.

"Charity!" she gave me a big hug before pulling away, "You haven't changed one bit since two days ago."

I chuckled in response, "It was only two days, nothing big can make me change too much."

"Oh you never know. Come on in, the soldiers are gone for the day so we have plenty of space." She stepped to the side of the door to allow me space.

I stepped into her house, setting the basket outside the door. I could hear her children in the back, arguing over something. I wouldn't consider myself high status, but Layla came from a poorer family, but had still made a living so had enough of everything she could need.

"I'm afraid you aren't the only one troubled with unneeded guests, Layla," I followed her into her dining room.

"Oh yes, I watched your house last evening, just as three had come here. I wondered who else was affected." She faced me, neither of us sitting down.

"Well, I came to ask if you needed anything or any help around the house," I gestured around the room, which still had dirty plate at seats and from what I could hear, the kitchen was more of a mess.

"Oh yes please! Thank you!" She took my hands in hers, "It's been so dreadful with not only the soldiers, but the children and both me and my husband. Oh! Preparing for seven people in this small house with what little we have." she spoke quickly as she did when stressed.

"Then let me help. Every morning I can come and help you clean, give you what food you may need, and keep an eye on the children," she was such a dear friend, and she was in a worse situation than I was. The least I could do was help.

All morning I helped her with cleaning the dishes, preparing lunch, cleaning the clothes, and various other things around the house. I went between my house and hers several times to bring food and other necessities to her, that I had, but was excess. We talked most of the time, telling each other our grievances and our joys, our new discoveries and what hadn't changed, and of course the daily Boston gossip.

The British now controlled the newspapers, looking over it daily for anything they didn't like. The number of ships in the harbor had increased over yesterday's afternoon, and so had the number of soldiers. Everyone in the city was struggling, to those that lived in the poor house, to the rich governor of Boston. There was a lack of good food and supplies for the citizens. All of the fresh items coming in from England and other colonies were either turned back or given to the soldiers and officers.

This news made me more upset, and as we talked and worked, I nearly forgot about Kirkland. I forgot about him until I left her house to go back to mine. I picked up my basket and waved her and her children goodbye and stepped out into the street. I was only one step closer to my house when I noticed him. Sitting on my front porch, waiting.

I walked past him and through the front door, biting back a comment. As I walked through the foyer into the kitchen, I noticed Brampton and Miller were gone, along with Hall. I froze near the fireplace, realizing what that meant. I was alone with Kirkland. As if on cue he walked into the kitchen, then into the dining room.

"I believe you have some cleaning to do Charity." He picked up a book he had found in the library and sat at the table.

I sighed to myself and moved to start cleaning but then stopped. There wasn't anything to clean. The plates were washed and put away along with the glasses and silverware, the fire was put out, the food I had used that morning was put away and in its place.

I couldn't stay mad at him, I just couldn't. No matter how rude he had been to me, how much pain his comrades had caused me and my city, he was kind. But I did have to wonder, why wasn't he doing his job?

He saw my look of confusion, "What's the matter?"

"Don't you have a job to do? Other than cleaning my house for me." I turned towards him.

"You are my job Miss Williams." He set the book down and leaned back in his chair.

As if I couldn't be more confused. Then it dawned on me. The reason he followed me to my mother's house, waited for me on my porch, and always seemed to stay around me.

"Am I on house arrest?"