A second chance to make a first impression.

Jema quivered beneath the intense stare of the master of the house, standing in his office with interlocked shaky hands. Silently, she hoped he would be lenient.

The master had erupted in fury upon discovering her asleep with the baby in her arms the previous night. She had just managed to get the little one to sleep and decided to rest briefly in the chair, unintentionally dozing off before returning him to the cradle.

Jema faced the consequences of her actions, her stay in the mansion hanging by a thread. Fearful of Madame Evana's wrath and particularly apprehensive about the actions of the imposing man before her, she averted her gaze.

Theodore maintained his stern look, seemingly satisfied that she didn't dare meet his eyes. He focused on his notebook, determined to finish the work on his desk before addressing her situation.

Squinting in contemplation, he struggled to place where he had seen her face before, but his memory failed him.

Once finished with writing instructions, he rang a bell on his desk, prompting Madame Evana to enter, bowing her head in acknowledgment as she awaited his directives.

"Master," she said, sneering maliciously at the younger woman.

"Have this mailed to Gregory Hobart," he ordered handing the letter to the elderly woman before clearing his desk.

Patiently waiting until the door was closed, he circled his desk before speaking to the fidgety woman before him.
"Ms. Author, have you ever been to a bullfight?" he inquired, the room filling with an uneasy silence. Jema remembered the rule not to speak back to the master.

"Have you no tongue to speak?" his voice stern and cold, growing increasingly agitated with the persistent silence.

Jema shivered and for the first time met his hard gaze, it didn't do well to soothe her fears. "No, sir."

"It's called a corrida de toros in Spanish and very deadly at that. Do you know why men like us pay to watch such dreadful games?... It's to teach people like you lessons," he explained, his words leaving her in shocked silence. Apologies lingered on her lips, but she found herself unable to speak.

His jaw tightened as he continued, "In a bullfight, one can learn tactics, stance, and timing amidst all the chaos. I promise you one thing, Ms. Author, I will strike when the rod is hot. You've barely lasted a week, and you've almost jeopardized your career."

Standing before her, he used his ballpoint pen to tilt her jaw up to his level. Her lips trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. "I won't terminate your contract, but I'll punish you as required," he declared with a firm resolve.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to put the child in danger, we were awake through out the night and I was going to keep him__" he cut in immediately.

"Another word from you and I'll reconsider your punishment. I haven't asked you to speak!"

Jema quietened, her heart pumping with vigor at his intimidating figure. She wasn't the type to cower beneath any man nor threats like that but there was something about Theodore Newman that weakened her.

Intimidated and rendered speechless by his gaze, she felt a profound sense of smallness and powerlessness leaving his office.
Despite the pain, she had made the resolution to depart from the mansion on her own terms. More so fueled by the desire to avoid further mistreatment over a minor error.

Upon hearing Madame Evana announce her punishment, Jema couldn't shake the sensation of being a schoolgirl receiving detention for rule-breaking. She couldn't help but chuckle at the prospect of limited meals and the restriction from seeing baby Sam for an indefinite period at the master's discretion.

Madame Evana paused to stare at Jema. "Have I suddenly turned a jester? Are there any funny lines within the words I've just read?"

"Most probably," Jema retorted, shocking both her and Martha.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me Madame, you must be kidding me right now with that stupid thing you just read out. Have you all gone insane?" She seethed through clenched teeth. "Why am I being punished like a school girl? I have done nothing wrong—"

"—Oh yes you have! You risked the life of that little boy Jema and thank heavens who led the master right on time to save the day."

"What?" She gasped in bewildering surprise. "Saved the day you say? No I saved the day! When every single one of you went to bed and left him unattended to I was there with him, cared for him, rocked him on my two feet to sleep while enduring the painful aches throughout the night, so I saved the day!" She corrected, angry veins popping around her temples.

Madame Evana stared blankly at her, refusing to express more than she thought. "It's your job,"

"Then let me do my job! Why did you have me here in the first place?" She asked striding towards the older woman. "After taking months to convince me to take up this job and you won't let me do it. You think I'm inexperienced? You think I'm not trustworthy? I thought we were family?"

"Your mother was my friend,"

"And she always spoke highly of you, I wish she was alive to know it was all lies," Jema whispered in the softest tone ever before leaving her to her misery.

*******

Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she forced a smile that contrasted sharply with her former cheerful self when Jacob was still a part of her life. The once-thicker brunette hair now appeared diminished, and her almond-shaped eyes, once a source of charm, lacked the vibrancy of life. Instead, they were swollen, reddened, and weakened from frequent crying.

Her once perky nose now appeared distorted, as if stung by a bee, eliciting a self-mocking scoff. His betrayal felt like a sharp sting, draining the life from everything she once cherished. Without glancing down, Jema rubbed the bulge on her belly—a bitter reminder of what he left her with. He abandoned his family, the woman to whom he had sworn loyalty, without a word or trace.

Regret gnawed at her as she wished she had never encountered him at the train station. She longed for the days when he didn't stir butterflies in her belly, regretting the moment she said yes to him. In a heartbeat, he crushed her tiny world when he walked away.

A sudden pain below her bellybutton made Jema yelp, causing her to grab the sink for support. Her vision blurred, and her legs wobbled. Attempting to sit on the floor, she slipped, the sound of her hips hitting the floor jolted her back to life.

Startled awake, Jema discovered her shirt was soiled with what she assumed to be breast milk. While the nightmares triggered another let-down, it wasn't what had disturbed her. The shrill cries of Baby Sam pierced the tranquil night, reaching her room. The persistent cries raised concern; fearing the nurse needed assistance, Jema worried, as it was unlike her not to soothe the baby.

Jema gently knocked on the door and pushed it open to find Lilian in pajamas, with ruffled hair and eyes that needed a full days sleep. She stood by the cradle looking utterly disgruntled, as if on the verge of tears. She appeared in desperate need of a break.

"Jema, thank goodness you're here. I'm about to pass out. He doesn't seem to want anything specific. I've fed him and checked his temperature, but he's not running a fever," Lilian explained in distress.

"Did you change his napkin?"

"Yeah, five times already, he's not feeling any crankiness down there it's just..." she pulled at her hair in frustration. "I need rest." she admitted.

"It's okay, I'll take it from here." Jema assured, causing the other girl to sigh in relief. "I owe you one,"

"Sure, goodnight."

She observed the little boy in the cradle, tears streaming down his eyes, Jema marveled at the volume of noise emanating from such a tiny being. Cupping him gently in her hands, she placed him on her chest. Rubbing soothing circles on his back and hummed "Sweet Molly Malone" in hopes that the melody would bring comfort and lull him into sleep.

"Hey lil man, why are you crying in the middle of the night? Did Lily not treat you right?" She asked when she pulled him up, with his legs dangling in the air.

His curious eyes watched her, he seemed to love it when she spoke to him because he soon forgot his cries.

"Or have you missed me so much?... if you did then you'd have said so instead of tearing the whole house down with your menacing cries." She offered a cheeky smile at his expressive face.

"I'm here now dear so don't cry anymore, I'm not gonna leave your side again alright? No matter who it is, I'll always be here for you." she assured and rested him back on her chest. It didn't take long for him to get back to his cries.

Sitting on the cushion, Jema released a grunt, expressing her exhaustion. "Oh, Lord, rescue me tonight," she whispered.

Wondering about the cause of the baby's restlessness and incessant crying, she couldn't be certain. But she was determined to find out, Jema pulled her shirt up, adjusting the baby at an angle near her left nipple. He latched on eagerly, suckling hungrily as they both sought comfort in the moment.

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