A Lesson in Love

Chapter 1

As soon as her eyes popped open, Ginny knew something was terribly different. No, she still hadn't returned to her real body. Something told her that she would immediately know when she had finally returned to herself. No, there was something else.

She sat in a small chapel, surrounded by more than a dozen other people. A preacher of some sort droned on in the front. He spoke with a meek voice, spouting on about someone being an honest and decent person.

That person, Ginny assumed after looking around, was probably the poor guy in the casket. The long pine box sat sentinel in front of the church, a lone reminder that life was short and unpredictable. No one escaped death's door.

Trying to be discreet, Ginny looked to either side of her in the front of the chapel. No one sat to her immediate right on the hard wooden pew. Across the aisle sat a stoic-looking gentleman and a stern-looking woman. Ginny hoped she wouldn't have to deal with the pair. To her left was a small woman sniffling into a handkerchief. Her dark hair was peppered with gray, and her hands were covered in dark spots.

Not wanting to turn around and inspect the rest of the crowd, Ginny listened to the preacher's voice.

Douglas was a favorite among the teachers at the Devlin Academy. His sincere appreciation for history was enjoyed by all his students.

Who was Douglas? Considering where she sat, was Douglas her husband? Her dead husband? It was difficult to know, but she suddenly noticed that she clutched a soft linen handkerchief and that her eyes were wet. Whoever it was, he had meant something to her new character.

God is mysterious. We can never know why He chose to take Douglas so soon after his beloved wife, Eleanor.

Well, one question answered. She wasn't the man's wife. A sister? A friend? It was always hardest before she knew who she was. Even after living so many different lives, in so many different bodies, Ginny was impatient to learn her new character. But, she had to wait until the master of her new universe graced her with the necessary knowledge.

The preacher went on for another fifteen minutes, talking about the man's life on only the most cursory level. Ginny wondered if the preacher had even known this Douglas fellow. Probably not. He had been employed by someone for the occasion.

The room was growing warmer and Ginny's clothing began to stick to her wet, sweaty skin. She needed this to be over so she could find a quiet place and wait to find out what she was to do now. Fall in love, of course. Again. Ginny tried to summon some enthusiasm, but she just couldn't. In her mind, she had just left Grant's arms after he was finally able to marry her. Alysanne was about to live out her happily ever after, leaving Ginny to create yet another one for another woman.

Heaving a sigh, Ginny scratched at her wrist; the coarse fabric was irritating her skin. The spotted hand of the woman to her left covered hers. Ginny looked, but the woman continued to stare at the preacher. Taking it for a sign of comfort, Ginny tried to settle for the rest of the service.

Finally, the preacher said, The casket will be moved to the cemetery now. For those of you joining us, we will be ready in a few minutes.

Remaining in her seat, Ginny watched as four men lifted the casket above their shoulders, and in a solemn procession, left the church. Ginny turned to watch as the door opened and bright sunshine poured in. She could see the blue sky in the distance, dotted with fat clouds. It looked to be a glorious day for such a sad occasion.

As she stared after the casket, the sour-looking couple from across the aisle came to stand before her. Ginny glanced up in time to hear the woman speak.

Come now, Samantha.

Her body rose on its own, as though it retained knowledge of who she was. After she stood, Ginny was slapped with what had bothered her when she'd first opened her eyes. She was short, shorter than usual. Of course, a romance novel heroine could be short, and a few of her characters had been, but this was weird. Ginny would guess her height to be not much above five feet. Her body was small as well. She had no breasts to speak of. She doubted many heroines came without some bosom.

Oh, well, it wasn't like Ginny had much say in who she was to become. Instead, she followed behind the couple, having forgotten the crying woman to her left. She turned around and noticed that the poor woman remained in the pew, still staring at where the coffin had been, and sniffling into her tissue. Without conscious thought, Ginny walked back to her.

Are you coming? she asked, concerned because her voice sounded funny to her.

The woman looked up and smiled. No, Sammy, I cannot go with you. Put your father to rest.

Father? Douglas was her father? Instead of arguing, Ginny nodded and turned to follow the other couple outside. Who was the woman she left behind? Not her mother, as the preacher had stated that Douglas's wife had passed before him. His mother, perhaps? She might be old enough, but then why would she not join them outside?

Ginny's head began to ache. Instead of running her mind in circles, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. After several more deep breaths, her stomach calmed and her head cleared. She was burying her character's father. The poor girl had lost both her parents in a short time. Ginny thought about her parents, in her real life. Were they mourning her right now? Had she not survived the dreadful accident that sent her to this place? With each question, Ginny's anxiety returned.

Picking up her speed, Ginny caught up to the stern-looking couple. The woman's back was ramrod straight, an obvious sign of a highborn upbringing. She wore fine clothes and an elegant hat. In spite of all that, she still appeared unhappy. Her straight, thin lips were pale, her nose was hooked like a witch. It occurred to Ginny who the woman reminded her of - the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. All that was needed was a green pallor and a straw broom.

They reached the open gravesite. There was a large pile of dirt sitting next to the open pit. On the other side, Ginny saw a recently dug grave with no headstone, only a perfect rectangle of brown dirt that had no grass growing on it yet. As Ginny stared at the spot, a hand squeezed her shoulder.

She is in a better place, the voice stated.

Ginny looked over her shoulder at the preacher from the church. Examining his features, Ginny thought he appeared kindly. She tried for a smile, but it was shaky at best. Ginny went back to watch the casket being lowered into the ground. Her breathing became labored and her vision blurred. She knew what was happening, but was in no position to stop it. The last thing she remembered, right before she passed out cold, was the stern woman intoning, What are we to do now? Then the world went blissfully black.

Chapter 2

Ginny awoke to whispers. It felt like they were all around her. A voice above her head sounded annoyed, while one at her feet was more compassionate. Another from across the room came off as reasonable, but leery. Having no idea what was going on, Ginny opened her eyes to see the players. Thankfully, she finally knew who she was and just how bad she was about to have it in this new life.

The annoyed voice was the stern woman from the church. Mrs. Cecille Devlin, wife of Oliver Devlin, headmaster and owner of the Devlin Academy. Her husband was the voice of reason, though Ginny doubted his wife ever paid much attention to him. The compassionate voice was the preacher, Reverend Hopewell. They all stood looking at one another, and no one even noticed that she'd opened her eyes.

Ginny closed her eyes again and thought about who she was. Her stomach clenched as she realized her dilemma. She was Miss Samantha Rylan, daughter of the recently deceased Douglas and Eleanor Rylan. Both had been in a terrible accident. A runaway horse and buggy had plowed into the pair as they walked home from town. Her mother was killed instantly, but her father had lingered for a few weeks before finally succumbing. Both had taught at the Devlin Academy.

As disturbing as that was, it paled in comparison to the rest. Ginny was currently occupying the body of a fourteen-year-old girl. She was in no position to find the man she was to marry because she was too damn young. What did it mean? Ginny could feel her head spinning and made an effort to stop it. She didn't want to pass out again. Not when she had so much work to do.

Ginny took a deep breath and sat up. Every eye in the room was focused on her, making her feel self-conscious. Though her mouth was as dry as dust, she said, I'm sorry for fainting.

No one blames you for being overwhelmed, my dear. It has been a trying day. Ginny recognized the preacher, not even needing to turn her head.

Oliver Devlin spoke next. Certain arrangements need to be made, Samantha. You cannot stay here at the Academy.

Ginny's head whipped around at his statement. It took another couple of seconds for her to understand why. Without any thought, she uttered, But you promised.

Glancing away, he murmured, You must understand.

Oh, for heaven's sake, Mrs. Devlin stated impatiently. It is a boys' school, Samantha. You cannot stay.

Turning her body fully around to face the ogreish woman, Ginny repeated, But he promised my father before he died. He told him that you would take care of me.

And we will take care of you. Just not personally.

Confused, Ginny focused once again on Mr. Devlin. What does that mean?

Coughing into his hand, he kept his eyes on the floor when he said, You will go to a girls' school.

A lump formed in Ginny's throat, one she could never mistake for anything but fear. A girls' school? she whispered, never taking her eyes from Mr. Devlin.

The reverend spoke up. It is a fine place, Samantha. You will be well cared for there. I know the headmaster and he is. . .

Ginny turned just in time to see the preacher's eyes look away. What was going on? Ginny picked herself up off the couch and walked to the door. She now recognized her surroundings as the home she had shared with her parents. Before anyone could comment, she was out the door. With each step, she walked faster, until she was running. She maneuvered around small buildings and hedges until she reached her destination. A tall, old tree sat in small meadow. Hanging from one thick branch was a swing. Ginny plopped into the swing and rocked gently back and forth.

She was tending to her father when Mr. Devlin had come by to visit. Though Samantha would not have realized it, Mr. Devlin had been there to ascertain whether Douglas would recover. He'd been kind and solicitous, but it had all been an act. When Douglas had begged him to care for Samantha, Mr. Devlin readily agreed. He had sworn that she would be welcome for as long as it took to find her a better situation. In her young, naïve mind, Samantha thought that meant until she was old enough to marry. A giggle escaped her mouth at the thought. Hadn't she just left a naïve mind? At fourteen, Ginny couldn't blame Samantha for seeing the good in people. It was always a hard lesson when a young person realized that the world was not such a kind place.

A girls' school, they had said. She would be cared for, they had said. Samantha might have believed their story, but Ginny didn't. It was the year 1813 and she was in a small town outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Her options were pathetically limited. Her parents had raised her to be a lady, just like her mother had been. They had hoped she would marry well and never know manual labor. They had educated her in all areas, not just those for young ladies. She was well versed in the sciences, mathematics, and geography. She learned what every boy at the Devlin school had learned, but it wouldn't help her one damn bit.

What a mess! There was little for Ginny to do but go where they sent her. With little money and no family, she was at the mercy of others. Samantha was an intelligent girl, but she had the street smarts of a cloistered nun. Was this why she was here? Was she to keep this poor girl alive until her hero appeared? Of course she was.

Ginny jumped from the swing and made her way back to the house. Her destiny awaited her. And she wasn't about to keep it waiting.

Chapter 3

The girls' school was located twenty miles outside Philadelphia. It had been a long and uncomfortable journey by carriage, as she'd been stuffed inside it with five other passengers. As Oliver Devlin reminded her before she left, it was at his mercy that she'd gotten to be a first-class passenger on the coach. As there were several people on top of the conveyance, Ginny quickly understood how lucky she was. During half the journey, it had rained. . . hard. As miserable as it was to be cooped up with smelly strangers, it could have been far worse.

She left with only a few changes of clothes, her mother's ring, and five dollars. No one knew about the money. Her father had told her about it before he died. It was all he had in the world. Ginny stared out the window as she thought about Samantha's parents – Eleanor and Douglas Rylan. Her mother, Eleanor, was British. Eleanor's father had held some aristocratic title, which passed onto Eleanor's brother when he died. Samantha's father had been a tutor. Her parents had met at some house party and fell instantly in love. Samantha's grandfather would never approve of the match, so they ran away and were married in Scotland.

When Douglas couldn't find a job in England, the pair boarded a ship bound for America. There they found the Devlin Academy. The school was small and desperately needed educators willing to work for next to nothing. The rich of Pennsylvania liked the idea of their sons being educated by a British gentleman and his lady wife. Douglas mostly taught history, but also assisted with science and mathematics when necessary. Eleanor taught decorum, making sure that the young men knew how to act like gentlemen.

The school flourished, mostly because of the Rylans. Not that Oliver and Cecille Devlin ever gave credit where credit was due. Her parents knew their worth and demanded more money. The Devlins never forgave them for what they referred to as British greediness. Regardless, the school continued to do well. That was until the accident. When Eleanor died, and Douglas unable to work, the Devlins hired new teachers. Teachers who were willing to work for far less. Most of the money that the Rylans had saved was gone. Gone to care for Samantha's injured father and pay off their living expenses.

The Devlins had shipped her off as soon as they could. The coach fare was the sum total of what Oliver figured he owed to his vow to Samantha's father. At least he was generous enough to put her inside.

The coach came to an abrupt stop, nearly forcing Ginny into the lap of the woman across from her. The door opened suddenly and an unshaven face appeared. He looked at each passenger in turn, finishing with Ginny.

You Samantha? he asked, showing off his brown, uneven teeth.

At first, Ginny wanted to shake her head. Instead, she simply nodded.

Come on, then. You get off here.

Ginny stepped down from the coach to the muddy road. By the time she turned, the creepy man had already retrieved her luggage from the back of the coach. Holding her bag, she followed the man to a small cart that sat off the main road. As she walked away, she heard the crack of the coachman's whip. The coach took off again and quickly disappeared behind some trees.

Turning back, she saw that her trunk was thrown haphazardly onto the back of the cart. The man never offered to help her up. Seeing that the driver's seat only allowed two occupants, and the other was filled by the single ugliest dog Ginny had ever seen, she gingerly climbed into the back and sat next to her trunk. The creepy man left without another word.

A half hour after they'd left the coach, Ginny finally asked, How far to the school?

The man gazed over his shoulder, giving her a perplexed look. School?

Ginny blinked several times and wondered if the man was simple. She decided to start again. I never introduced myself. I am Samantha Rylan. What is your name?

The man removed his hat and scratched his head. Name's Kane.

How do you do, Mr. Kane? she asked, hoping to ingratiate herself on her driver.

Nah, just Kane.

Oh, sorry. . . Kane. This was turning into a strange conversation. How long before we arrive at the school? she asked again, hoping that he might be more forthcoming. Ginny's ass had fallen asleep miles back and she longed to get off the bumpy cart.

Why do you keep calling it a school?

His simple question did horrible things to Ginny's stomach. What exactly did he mean? Did that bastard Devlin sell her to a whorehouse or something?

It's not a school?

Nah, just an orphanage. I guess they teach you something there, but it ain't no school.

Oh, that explained the confusion. An orphanage might not be a pleasant place, but it was better than a whorehouse. Ginny wondered if it wasn't just a workhouse. She would be forced to work long hours for no money. There was no use worrying about it, as she had little choice in the matter.

I see, she replied only to be polite.

Kane stopped the cart and shooed the dog off the seat. The animal, which Ginny surmised was part pit bull and part hell-hound, scampered off to the side of the road to do his business. Kane jumped down and came beside her in the cart. He pulled a canteen out and offered her a drink. The water was warm, but it tasted clean, so she happily drank her fill.

You listen to me, girl, he began when she handed back the canteen, you need to watch yourself. It can be dangerous there for a pretty girl like yourself.

Really? What... what do you mean, Kane? her voice shivered.

I mean that Frost is not a good man. Never find yourself alone with him, you hear? Kane climbed back up into the driver's seat and blew out a quick, loud whistle. His beast jumped up next to him and Kane started the cart again.

The man never uttered another word, leaving Ginny a lot of time to think about what he'd said. Frost was not to be trusted. He was a bad man. Never be alone with him. It all sounded pretty par for her course. After some of the shit she'd lived through, what was one more thing? But it wasn't one more, was it? She would survive, find love, and then jump into someone else's pathetic existence. What fun!

********

The pair arrived to a small town, filled with wooden buildings and well-cared-for gardens. It was a pretty, little town, which eased Ginny's anxiety slightly. How bad could the orphanage be in such a town? A sign announced the town's name: Honey Brook. The name was a testament to how sweet it was.

They passed through and made their way another mile or two down the road. Ginny watched as a large building came into view. It was a two-story wooden house, with lots of windows. It looked like a large estate from the front. There was a wooded area to the right side and a large, looping driveway in the front.

The cart stopped outside the front door and Kane pulled the brake and dropped down off the driver's seat. Ginny crawled to the edge of the cart and carefully lowered herself from the back of the cart. Her butt was still asleep, so she held onto the cart for a few seconds before retrieving her bag. Kane grabbed her trunk and plopped it at the front entrance.

When he climbed back onto the cart, Ginny said, Thank you, Kane. I appreciate the ride.

The man nodded and gruffly reminded, Remember what I told you and you should be fine. With a flick of the reins, the cart started forward and Kane disappeared behind the building.

Ginny climbed the steps and knocked. Within a second, the door opened as though someone had just been waiting for her to knock. A tall, bearded man stood just inside the doorway. He was older, maybe in his forties, with brown hair and beard. He wore small glasses on the bridge of his nose and brown, woolen suit. There was no smile on his face, just thin, straight lips.

You must be Samantha Rylan. His voice was raspy, like someone who smoked. A lot. Ginny couldn't detect any odor of smoke from him, so she wondered if he'd lost his voice from an illness. When Ginny was thinking of the mundane, it made her less anxious about her future.

Yes, sir, she replied, sensing that she was not required to expound.

Grab your things and follow me. The man turned and started into the house, giving Ginny very little time to put her bag on top of trunk and grab the handles on either side. It was large for her small frame, and she had some trouble getting inside the door.

Just as she finally passed the threshold, the man yelled, Be quick about it, girl. I haven't all day.

Ginny ran forward to catch up when the man stopped to turn around and glare at her. I have no idea what you are used to, but in this house, we close doors.

Oh, the medley of comebacks that circulated her mind. To this man, Ginny was a scared fourteen year old. In reality, she was a modern-day thirty year old who had little patience for the stupidity or rudeness of others. As much as she wanted to tell him exactly where he could go and how to get there, she knew she was in an untenable position. She had to play nice or she might find herself without a home.

Biting her tongue, hard, Ginny put down her unwieldy trunk and walked back to the door. Slowly, carefully, she closed the door until she heard the click of the lock. She then picked up her trunk and looked at him expectantly. Without another word, the man turned and made his way up the staircase.

They climbed to the second floor and walked down the long hallway. As they approached a door, it occurred to Ginny that she heard no other voices. If she was in an orphanage, one presumably for girls only, why didn't she hear anyone else speaking? At the very least, she should hear footsteps.

The man opened the door and walked inside. The room was small, with just enough room for six small beds. At the end of each bed was a trunk, with the exception of one. The man pointed to the bed impatiently and Ginny put her trunk down in front. When she turned to see what he wanted her to do next, he finally spoke to her.

My name is Mr. Frost. I am the owner of this establishment.

So this was the untrustworthy Frost that Kane had spoken to her about. Ginny didn't want to think why a man would own a girls' orphanage. The only logical explanation centered around some very bad things.

There are many rules you must follow here, Miss Rylan. First, you must always address me as 'sir.'

Psychology classes from a decade before came back to Ginny with a vengeance. The man was a predator, with a whole building full of prey. He was undoubtedly narcissistic with grandeur issues. He would justify his behavior as decent because he provided these girls with a home, food, and protection. Ginny had to swallow down the bile just thinking about it.

You will be expected to complete certain chores if you wish to eat. You will attend classes that will prepare you to live outside this home. Mostly, you will obey me. The punishment for misbehavior is harsh. Do not press me on this point, for you will not like what you hear.

He looked as though he expected something from her, so Ginny nodded. It must have satisfied him, because he turned around and left, closing the door behind him. Sitting on her trunk, Ginny examined her new room. Fear crept into her body, like a thief in the night. She was a little girl with no one to count on. She was to be surrounded by other little girls who might have been dealing with abuse for years.

Reaching down, Ginny grabbed the end of her skirt. Sewed inside the hem was five dollars. It was all her father had left and he'd told her to keep it safe. She hoped it would be safe, and she knew she would have to defend it with her life, as it was probably going to be her life if she had to get out of this place. After what Kane had told her, she thought she probably would.

Chapter 4

As it was late in the afternoon when she arrived, Ginny had only a few minutes alone before the other girls entered the room. Ginny examined each one as they entered, making snap judgments based on their looks or demeanor. One was painfully shy; another was a bully. The next one was surely a snob, thinking herself above the rest. Sitting quietly, Ginny waited until someone approached her.

It took only a few seconds after all the girls were in the room for the bully to walk up to her. The girl was dressed in all brown and wore the sour face of someone who didn't think much of life.

Who are you? she asked, voice laced with bitterness and contempt.

Ginny waited the span of a few heartbeats before answering, mostly to annoy the girl. Standing up, knowing they were about the same size, Ginny answered, Samantha Rylan.

Well, Samantha, all the new girls have to sleep on the floor. You have to earn your bed.

This was exactly what Ginny had hoped to avoid. Before she'd lived a bunch of other people's lives she probably would have shied away from the conflict. But not anymore. She'd been through too much and fought too hard to put up with some adolescent bullshit.

Mr. Frost neglected to tell me that. So I think I'll just use the bed until he tells me otherwise.

Quick as lightning, a fist punched Ginny in the shoulder. I am the one in charge in this room. Understand?

Glancing around the room, Ginny saw the other girls looking away, either embarrassed or afraid. Regardless, it was time for a regime change. When Ginny had played the part of vampire hunter, she'd learned some effective moves for dealing with riffraff. Before the girl had a moment to retreat, Ginny grabbed her hand and twisted it so hard, the girl fell to her knees. The other girls looked at her in amazement.

Do not ever lay your hands on me again, Ginny hissed close to the girl's ear. I don't want any trouble, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Do you understand?

Ginny waited for the girl's nod before releasing her. Falling backward, she crawled away on her bottom, wiping the tears from her eyes as she went. Ginny watched as her face turned a mottled red before the girl picked herself up and ran from the room.

I cannot believe you did that, one of the other girls stated from across the room.

Ginny shrugged. My name is Samantha. I arrived only a few minutes ago.

Figuring the other girls would introduce themselves, Ginny was surprised when they all turned and went to their bunks and sat on the edge. There was a distinct silence in the room that made Ginny even more nervous. In the distance came the clank, clank, clank of hard-soled shoes walking toward the room.

Mimicking the other girls, Ginny sat on the edge of her bunk, facing the door. The shoes stopped. There was a loud creaking noise as the door was pushed open. Ginny wondered why she hadn't heard it earlier. Was it supposed to add to the suspense of the moment? Was this some kind of sick, horror flick and the monster would now make his appearance?

Ginny held her breath until she saw a demure, petite woman enter the room. The woman could not have been above five feet, with soft, brown hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a simple white shirt and long, brown skirt that came to the floor, hiding the loud shoes. As she panned her innocent face around the room, Ginny watched as all the girls studied their hands in their laps. When the woman finally gazed upon her, she seemed surprised to have someone glancing back at her. She walked immediately to Ginny and looked down.

What is your name? she asked, her voice soft, but confused.

Samantha Rylan, Ginny replied, just as perplexed.

Well, Samantha, you have only been with us a short time, but you insist on causing trouble.

Ginny swallowed audibly. There was something truly not right about this woman. She appeared small and tame, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of serial killers and mass murderers. A chill ran up Ginny's back, but she had to stand up for herself.

May I ask your name, ma'am? Ginny asked, keeping her voice low and non-threatening.

Of course you may, the woman beamed a smile. It made the picture even more frightening. My name is Miss Lane. I am in charge of the dormitories.

How do you do, Miss Lane? It is a pleasure to meet you. Ginny barely got the sentence out without choking. The goose bumps on her arms made her shiver in fear. It wasn't normal to be so scared of such a woman, but Ginny's instinct was honed to a fine edge. She knew evil when she was staring up into its face.

Will you follow me, Miss Rylan? We need to speak in private. Miss Lane turned around and started walking to the door, her shoes echoing their clanking noise the whole way out. Ginny stood and followed, noticing that none of the girls would turn to look at her. Before she left the room, Ginny heard one of the girls let out a small cry of distress just before stifling it back.

Catching up to Miss Lane, Ginny followed the woman back down the stairs to a parlor off the main entrance. After Ginny entered the room, she saw the girl who had ordered her to sleep on the floor sitting smug-faced in one of the chairs. Miss Lane closed the door quietly behind her.

Please take a seat, Miss Rylan, she requested.

Ginny