She didn’t have a name for him yet. A name meant hope, and she hadn’t allowed herself to hope until after he was born. She’d given him life, and now she could give him a name as well.
Her eyes grew heavy. Her body was spent. The midwife had said she must sleep, but she wanted to wait until after her baby was beside her again, safe in her arms for the night.
In the spring breeze, the branch tapped a steady rhythm against the glass. She closed her eyes, listening for the midwife’s footsteps in the corridor, for the cries of her son. Sleep beckoned to her as she waited, the weight of exhaustion pressing down. She tried to fight it for only a few more minutes, but her body rebelled against her will, worn out from the labor of bringing a child into this world.
Hours later, she awoke when the chamber door flung open. Morning light flooded through the window and across her narrow bed.
Rising on her elbows, she expected to see the midwife holding her son, ready to be fed, but the missus stood at the end of her bed instead, wearing her cornflower-blue traveling gown.
“Get dressed,” she told Mallie.
Mallie looked toward the door. “Where’s my baby?”
The missus didn’t answer.
Mallie inched her legs to the side of the bed, trying to ignore the lingering pain. “I must feed him.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said as she opened the small dresser beside the window. “The baby didn’t survive the night.”
Mallie fell back against the wall, her body trembling as she tried to process the missus’s words.
Her baby didn’t survive? No—the missus must be wrong. Her son was fine last night. Healthy and strong.
“Bring me my baby,” Mallie demanded, but when she looked into the eyes of her mistress, at the pity and disdain, her words ebbed into grief. A wail erupted from deep inside her, carving its way around her heart and up her throat, echoing across the room.
“Lower your voice, Mallie.”
A whisper now. Begging. “Bring me my baby.”
“I can’t—”
“I want to see him.”
“He was ailing,” the woman said. “Abe buried him before daylight.”
Mallie wrapped herself in her arms, sobs heaving from her chest. She rocked back and forth, her head banging against the wall. She never should have fallen asleep. Never should have let him go.
“We have no time for this,” the missus said, pulling things out of the dresser.
She didn’t understand the missus’s words, didn’t care what she was saying.
The woman turned toward her. “Get out of bed.”
Mallie yanked the bedcover up, trying to bury herself in the quilt her mother stitched long ago. If only she could join her son in the grave. She couldn’t bear to stay in this world a moment longer.
The missus took her arm. “You must get dressed. Right away.”
She cried as the missus dressed her. Cried as the others watched her walk down the steps, into the black carriage.
It wasn’t until hours later that she realized.
The master never came to see her at all.
Part One
Having heard all of this,
you may choose to look the other way,
