My Work

Two of my short stories were included in this book. To purchase click here

Princess of Sweetwater

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By Tess DeGroot

Prologue

Santa Sierra, 1872

Princesses don’t cry. From behind the tapestries, Victoria fought the tears that threatened. The countess couldn’t have meant what she said.  

            “Countess Josephine,” Victoria’s mother said, her pale hand on her chest. “Don’t say such things.”

 “I’m sorry, Princess Teresa.” The dark-skinned woman paced the room. “But Nurse and I are tired of looking for her.”

Victoria knew the countess was upset. The rhythm of her speech changed to what Victoria had been told was called Caribbean.

“She can find her own way back from wherever she is.” Josephine sighed. “I wish she’d start acting like a princess.”

“She’s only six. Give her time.”

            The doorman announced, “Baron Fernando Duran, Your Highness.”

            Footsteps, precise, like her father’s guards.

            “Welcome, Cousin Fernando,” Teresa said. “Thank you. It pleases me to have you instruct Isabella Victoria.”

            “My honor, Your Highness,” Fernando said. “When do I meet my little cousin?”

            Victoria peeked through the space between the tapestries, so that was her tutor. The man had a funny beard, just a mustache and whiskers on his pointed chin. She decided she liked it.

            “I’m sorry, Fernando, but your student is hiding,” Teresa said. “Josephine, where did you lose her this time?” 

“This time?” Fernando lifted an eyebrow.

            “My daughter—” Teresa caressed the strand of pearls that hung around her neck. “She likes to explore and often chooses the most inconvenient times to do so.”

            “She couldn’t have gone far.” He walked toward the tapestry. Victoria watched his eyes scan the wall hangings. Did he know Victoria was hiding there? She held her breath.  “Cousin Teresa, might I suggest you and the countess look for her in the rose garden? She may have gone there.”  

            “Fernando, of course.” Teresa nodded. “Come, Josephine.”

            “But—”

            “Come.”

            When the door closed behind the two women, Victoria pushed her back into the wall, her eyes squeezed tight, wishing Fernando to follow her mother. Victoria opened her eyes at the swoosh of the wall hanging pushed aside. There in front of her, the man knelt on one knee, his pale gray-blue eyes level with hers. “Princess Victoria, I am Fernando Duran, your tutor.” He reached out his hand to her.

            She put her hand in his. “You found me.”

            “Little cousin, I will always find you.”

            Tears threatened again. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “Pro . . . Promise?

            He smiled. took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a little squeeze. “I promise.”

Four years later . . .

Victoria sat on the floor playing with the pearl necklace her mother had given her the day before. Her mother had been on bed rest for weeks now, when would the baby come?

The sun poured through the window and glinted off the emerald clasp, it made her recall her mother’s words, “Be strong, be obedient, and above all trust Fernando.”

The door swung open. Fernando walked toward her. His precise footsteps faltered.

“Your Highness.” There was a catch in his voice. “Victoria.”

“Mother?” She stood and reached out to him.

Fernando took Victoria into his arms. “Your mother is no longer with us. But your brother lives.”

Victoria’s body shuddered, she screamed into his chest.

“Little cousin, we’ll get through this together.” He kissed her forehead.

When her tears subsided, he released her from his embrace. “I’m sorry, your father expects you dressed and downstairs for supper. Remember, it is in our weakness we can find courage.”

Victoria put on her mother’s necklace. “It’s okay, dear cousin. I’ll be ready.”

Be strong—no tears.

Be obedient—do as I am told.

Above all, trust Fernando.