A month later, Deirdre was cleaning the larder when she realized she’d missed her menses. A few days after that, a rank biliousness relieved her of her appetite. She’d rinsed with vinegar water after she and Robbie hadbeen together the last time. Had been drinking her tea. But the signs were unmistakable. She was with child. Panic set in as she realized what it meant, and the true nature of the promise Gentry had made to her:
In fifty years, I’ll return to reap what I have sown.
Deirdre was certain Gentry had possessed Robbie on that bridge. Spilling his seed into her. Now, this child—whatever it might become—was growing inside her. She was tempted to take dire measures as Anneliese had to prevent its birth, but she could not bring herself to destroy what was half her own. Instead, the drive to nurture the life growing in her strengthened every day. She would not let Gentry lay claim to what was hers. She would find a way to protect her child.
Deirdre told no one about the baby. Not even Hannah. Her breasts grew heavy, pendulous, and tender. Her wherewithal ran low. One frigid afternoon in December, as Hannah lay soaking in the bath, Deirdre raised a question. “Would you think about hiring more help, Hannah? It’s becoming hard to manage things, just the two of us. Perhaps one of the girls from town might come by once or twice a week to help? Just for the day.”
“Oh?” Hannah sat up, water splashing over the edge of the tub. “Who did you have in mind? It has to be someone who can keep my secret.”
“I saw Ebba Nilsson at the mercantile a few days ago. Ingrid’s younger cousin.”
“That strange child? Does she still not speak?”
“No. Not English, anyway. That’s why I thought she might be suitable.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt, if you think she’ll keep quiet.”
Deirdre went to fetch Ebba from the Nilssons’ farm that same week. Maja came to the door, her careworn faced creased with deepwrinkles. She offered Deirdre a seat by the fire and a mug of spiced tea. Deirdre tried not to look at the rag rug in front of the fire where she and Ing had often played with their dolls as little girls. Losing Robbie had hurt. But not as much as losing Ing. She’d been tempted to go back up the hillside to apologize for the harsh things she had said. But the thought of seeing Robbie again made her blood boil. Her hatred—and her pride—ran far too deep.
A few moments later, Ebba stepped into the room. She’d grown taller, and had lost some of her fey, childlike whimsy. She’d be a handsome woman, someday. She shyly came to Deirdre’s side, and Deirdre offered her hand. Ebba took it and smiled. “Tack, Deirdre.”
“She’s been good help to me with Ingrid gone and Petr abed with a fever,” Maja said, swaying heavily to the hearth. She plucked the lid of the crock and stirred the hearty-smelling pottage within. “But, if Mrs.Bledsoe pays her well, the money will help us more.”
“Hannah pays more than what’s fair,” Deirdre offered. “Ebba will have money to spare and enough to save for a healthy dowry, someday, too.”
Maja nodded brusquely. “Good, good. Off with the two of you, then.”
It would be the last time she’d see Maja alive. A week later, Petr died, and Maja sickened from caring for him. She was dead within a week. The eldest Nilsson boy, Erik, followed soon after. By taking Ebba from the Nilssons’, Deirdre had not only given her work but had likely saved her life.
Ebba was a hard worker. She seemed to hear Deirdre’s thoughts before she spoke them aloud and would rush to her side to help in whatever task she needed. When Hannah’s time came, one late February afternoon when the sun blinked dimly through the trees, Ebba helped boil water, gather linens, and sopped Hannah’s brow as the labor pains became fierce. Deirdre coaxed Hannah through the pushing, but unlike little Collin, this baby came headfirst and easy into the world.
It was a girl—fat and healthy, with a mass of red hair and an angry little face to match. Hannah was distant. She refused to hold or even name the baby, so Deirdre named her instead: Valerie.
When Ebba was emptying Hannah’s chamber pot a few mornings later, she found an empty bottle of laudanum and brought it to Deirdre. In a panic, Deirdre flew upstairs, woke Hannah from her catatonic sleep, and shoved her fingers into Hannah’s mouth until she vomited.
Hannah apologized, over and over, her voice slurred and heavy. “I just want to sleep, Deirdre, why won’t you let me sleep?”
When Deirdre found her the next day, cold and still and pale as the grave, she shook Hannah, slapped her face. Cried her name, over and over, and even pounded her breast in a vain attempt to start her heart. It was too late. Hannah was dead, just as she’d seen in her vision on that stormy night months ago.
Before she sent for the coroner, a revelation came to Deirdre, growing and spreading like a quick-rooting tree. A way she might undo the past and the desperate promise she’d bound with her blood.
Deirdre handed little Valerie to Ebba. “Take the baby to the carriage house and keep her quiet,” she told Ebba. “No one can know she’s here. And no one caneverknow who she belongs to. Do you understand me, Ebba? Especially Mr.Bledsoe.”
“Yes, Deirdre. I will be secret,” Ebba said, speaking the first words Deirdre had ever heard her say in English.
The next day, Deirdre found an attorney’s calling card beneath the blotter on Mr.Bledsoe’s desk. She went to the post office straightaway to send a telegram. When Billy Bledsoe came home four days later from California to bury his wife, his black hair had gone white, and Deirdre never knew the man to smile again.
THIRTY-ONE
GRACELYNN
1931
I don’t get far. Just as I reach the edge of Sutter’s holler, all the strength goes out of me. My side howls with pain. My knees give way and I collapse in the underbrush on all fours. Sheriff Murphy and his men approach, crunching through the underbrush. This is it. This is where it ends.
“She’s over here, Sheriff.” That’s Hosea Ray. “I think she’s hurt.”
“Good! Little bitch stabbed me!” Adams bellows. He stalks over and yanks me up by the elbow. I spit in his face. He wrinkles his nose and clenches my arm so tight I just know he’s gonna break it.
