THE GUARDIAN Book One The Misfit Series

Copyright © 2017 by Karris Callahan

ISBN: 978-1-63524-785-5

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE Escape!

CHAPTER TWO Princess Cassandra: Home Again

CHAPTER THREE New in Town

CHAPTER FOUR Hiding Place

CHAPTER FIVE Chance Encounter

CHAPTER SIX A Tour

CHAPTER SEVEN Glass Windows

CHAPTER EIGHT Raindrops

CHAPTER NINE News

CHAPTER TEN Princess Cassandra: A Time to Mourn

CHAPTER ELEVEN Clouds

CHAPTER TWELVE Job Search

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Princess Cassandra: Council Meeting

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Monkey’s Cage

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Hope

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Princess Cassandra: The Streets

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN An Interview

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN An End to War

CHAPTER NINETEEN Princess Cassandra: A Decision

CHAPTER TWENTY A Plea

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Missing

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Princess Cassandra: In Disguise

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE A Friend

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Princess Cassandra: Chambermaid

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX A Day in Town

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Princess Cassandra: The Guardian

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Family

A special thanks…

CHAPTER ONE

Escape!

1945

Cassie! Cassie Carlson, you get down here!

Cassie heard the voice calling her, but chose to bury her head in her book instead, allowing her groan to be muffled in those printed white pages. She rolled off her bed and with slow, dragging steps made her way to the top of the stairs. There, she found her mother staring up at her from the bottom of the staircase. Mom was dressed in her factory clothes with her hair tied up in a bandana, one hand on her hip, the other hand reaching up and pointing towards the kitchen.

Why is the table still a mess with the lunch dishes?

Cassie defiantly crossed her arms and said, That was Belinda’s job! I cooked lunch, she was supposed to clean up.

And where is Belinda now?

Cassie shrugged her shoulders and said, I don’t know...in town probably.

Well I don’t care whose job it was, you need to get down here and clean it up before it’s time to start dinner. It should have been done hours ago, and I expect it to be done when I get out of the shower. Then you can help me make dinner.

But what about Belinda? Cassie asked angrily.

I asked you, not Belinda, her mother snapped back, refusing to give in.

Cassie stormed down the steps and past her mother, clanging the dishes together as she hurriedly piled them into the sink and started the water. It isn’t fair! Belinda gets to go out and have fun when I have to stay here with the kids and then do Belinda’s work. Just then the culprit glided through the door, pausing as she noticed Cassie cleaning up. Cassie looked up at her sister and said, Mother is not happy because you didn’t clean up like you were supposed to.

Well that’s not my fault, you should have done it while I was gone, Mother has enough on her plate without having to worry about cleaning up the kitchen.

My fault? It was your job! If you are so worried about her then why don’t you start helping and stop pretending to be so super around all your friends?

Belinda leaned in close and said threateningly, If you ever try to talk to any of my friends you will regret it. If I didn’t hang out with them, I wouldn’t have any friends!

Why do you think I don’t have any friends Belinda? Because I always have do your work! Just wait, they won’t last, even a pretty face won’t be worth anything if you don’t have any money.

Belinda glared at her saying, Well we would have money and I would still have all my old friends if Dad hadn’t dragged us to this old-fashioned town. Then she spun on her heel, her shiny blonde hair bobbing as she left the room. However, their mother caught her on the stairs and marched her back into the kitchen to help with dinner.

Cassie dried the last dish and grumpily began setting the table as she listened to Belinda gush about her afternoon. Oh Mother, I had such a swell time! We went to the movies and the actor was simply divine! Jane wants me to come over tomorrow so she can show me her new dresses she bought. Her mother was nodding and smiling at everything Belinda said, adding a comment here and there.

Cassie felt sick. As she reached for another bowl it slipped from her grasp and smashed to the floor, shattering to a thousand pieces.

Look, what you’ve done now, Cassie! You are always making more messes for Mom. Feeling foolish Cassie looked at her mother and saw her rubbing her temples as she stared at the broken bowl, one of the few they had owned.

Finally her mother spoke, Cassie you need to be more careful. I can’t afford broken bowls. Clean it up before someone steps on the glass. Her mother’s tone was scolding and Cassie couldn’t take anymore so she bolted for the door.

Cassie! Cassie! You get back here and finish your chores!

Although the screen door slammed behind her, it didn’t block the angry screams. Cassie jogged to her bike and, peeking over her shoulder, was reassured to see that her mother hadn’t followed. Even one hour away from bickering siblings and the weariness of feeling that she was never good enough for her mother would help.

They only want me to do their work! She muttered under her breath. At eleven years old, she had three older and three younger siblings. Cassie was stuck in the middle: too old to play with the younger ones and too young to be seen as equal in her older siblings’ eyes. She spent most of her time on her own. The only time her family missed her was when there was work to be done.

In her annoyance, Cassie jabbed her foot at the kickstand with enough force to send rocks from the driveway flinging in all directions. With a quick jog she propelled her bike forward and hopped onto the seat, pedaling her way down their long gravel driveway. Turning onto the country road she picked up speed, Cassie’s brown braids wiggled back and forth as her body moved up and down in rhythm with her pedaling.

When she was satisfied that she was far enough from her home that no one would follow her, she stopped to catch her breath. Balancing her bike with her toes, she stared out across the field to her left. The crops could be seen for miles as they gently swayed against the wind’s touch. Suddenly Cassie felt a longing to be free, to dance in the wind like the field before her.

She was tired of fighting the worries that burdened her heart every day. What if her father was killed and never came home? What if her mother decided she couldn’t do it anymore on her own? What if Cassie and her siblings drove each other further and further apart until a sea of anger separated them? Every day Cassie saw a thousand possibilities of how her family could be ripped apart and it scared her more than anything else in her life ever had.

They might fight a lot but they were all she had. There was a small part of her, a tiny hope, that someday they might learn to love each other again.

Her father had enlisted and left for war two and a half years ago. He had served four years in the armed forces when he was younger and said it was his duty to help his country again when they were in need of experienced men. Every day since he had left things had gotten worse at home. It had started long before he left for war but his absence seemed to heighten the struggles and make the fears more real.

These fears revealed themselves in nightmares too, that haunted Cassie every night when she closed her eyes. The worst part was that she had nothing to distract her from her worries. When she was at home she was surrounded by them and when she was at school or away from the house she had no friends to share her fears with – no one to make her laugh instead of cry.

Cassie looked down at her stained t-shirt, fraying skirt, and the hand-me-down shoes, which had been worn so many times by her siblings before her that the scuff marks had turned the faded gray to black. Who wants to be a friend with someone like me? Who wants to be friends with someone who works every spare moment of her free time? Who wants to be friends with someone whose mother was a shut-away?

No one. That’s who.

Cassie reached up and fingered one of her braids; she had grown so tired of hearing her mother’s words, Curls are from the devil. She braided her hair every day, hoping that her mother would look past her curls and approve of her daughter. But the curls never stayed tamed, which only led to her mother spouting that Cassie couldn’t change who she was.

Pain worked its way deeper into Cassie’s heart as tears brimmed in her eyes. Why couldn’t her mother love her? What was wrong with her that wasn’t wrong with the other six children? Maybe her mom was right. She was so messed up nobody would ever love her.

A tear broke loose and rolled down her cheek. Ignoring the tear she peddled harder as anger boiled up in her heart, flowing over and covering the hurt. Fine then! she yelled aloud to the wind. If that’s the way it’s to be, then so be it! Reaching back she yanked the hair ties from her braids and her hair fell free, brushing her cheeks for only a second before the wind caught it and unbraided the messy curls.

Cassie wondered how angry her mother would be when she returned. At a minimum, there would probably be more chores for her. She was hungry but she didn’t want to spend another night around the table listening to her siblings bicker and her mother scold her for not being responsible. She hoped that if she stayed out long enough, she could eat dinner by herself.

As she considered these things she felt sadness pressing in. There was only one place she really wanted to be, so she leaned forward and entered her one sanctuary... her imagination. She became the only person she wanted to be known as – Princess Cassandra; the one who could face anything and overcome any fear.

Gone was the squeak-squeak-squeak of her rusty bike as it was replaced with the hoof beats of her midnight black Arabian; gone was the scratchy feel of her tattered clothes; instead she felt only the soft touch of her red silk gown against her skin. Gone were the unruly curls that no one thought were beautiful, for this princess had beautiful, waist-length tresses that formed into wavy curls, now streaming behind her like a banner in the wind. Gone was the country road that sent dirt flying in her face; instead she breathed the clear sea air as she galloped along the shoreline, waves lapping at her Arabian’s hooves.

This was freedom.

CHAPTER TWO

Princess Cassandra: Home Again

From long, long ago

My horse skidded to a halt as I yanked on his reins. Jumping down from his back, I tossed the reins to the stable boy waiting at the entrance and without another word ran up the steps that led into the palace and through the echoing halls.

He’s back! My heart cried, He’s back! I raced along without any consideration to being proper. Voices came from the hall that led to the servant’s area and I skidded to a stop much like my horse had. Pausing just around the corner I became motionless, intent on hearing what they were saying. If there was anything I had learned in my life at the palace it was that servants knew everything. Their words reached my ears and my heart seemed to crash within me; as if refusing to believe what was being said about my father.

No! The voice in my head screamed, No it can’t be, he can’t go, he can’t leave me! Even as I resolved that the servant must be mistaken, I resumed my frantic run. The hem of my red satin gown pooled around my legs like the fiery blaze burning in my heart and my loose ivory sleeves swished in rhythm with my dress as my arms briskly kept pace with my fast movements.

Cutting to the left I ran down the hall, my vision flickering with each large window that I passed. My commotion had already alerted the guards and they stood at the door – javelins raised and eyes alert, watching for trouble. In my haste I hardly noticed their relieved looks when they saw it was me. They stepped aside from the door as I burst through.

Once I was through the doorway I halted and heard the thud of the heavy doors being closed behind me by the guards. Looking straight ahead, I saw only the silhouetted shape of my father as he faced the large window that overlooked the courtyard. He was a strong man, tall and slender, but strong never-the-less. Yet as I watched him, I saw only weariness in his posture. My anger subsided some as I quietly approached him, my satin slippers skimming over the plush carpet. Daddy, I whispered.

He turned at the bidding of my voice and I found tears brimming in his eyes. My own tears began to well up as I pleaded, Daddy please tell me you are not leaving again. Please. You can’t go, I need you!

Cassandra I must! I have no choice. I go for Rolandah. I go for you.

The sobs that came from me could not be stopped as my knees began to tremble. He quickly reached out and pulled me to him and my body sank against his as I cried out my tears. When the last traces of my sorrow were my red cheeks and puffy eyes, he knelt in front of