“Grace,” I called to my sister, but she didn’t hear me or heed me as she left the room.
I quickly got out of bed and scrambled to get dressed, my hands and feet feeling like icicles.
Yesterday I had begged Grace to go along with my plan, but she had refused. If we didn’t act quickly, Susannah would send us both to the gaol.
I finished dressing and went to find my sister. She was laying a fire in the kitchen hearth as the wind and the rain rattled the windowpanes.
“Have you given my suggestion any thought?” I asked, rubbing my hands together for warmth.
She startled and turned at my arrival. Her countenance was heavy, and I instantly knew something was wrong—more than what was happening in Salem Village.
“What is it?” I walked across the kitchen and stood near her. “Has something happened in 1912?”
The fire was just starting to come to life as she faced me. I knew my sister almost better than I knew myself. Just by looking into her eyes and seeing how she held her mouth, I knew she was carrying something troubling in her mind.
My heart fell as I realized what it was.
“You’re not staying here with me, are you?” I asked her.
“What?” She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Something’s wrong—something you don’t want to tell me.” I took her hand as panic settled into my heart. I tried not to sound desperate, but I couldn’t live here without Grace. “The only thing that would make you look so guilty is that you decided not to stay here.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not it.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. “Then what’s wrong?”
“I—”
She paused as the door to the lean-to opened and Leah entered the kitchen. Leah looked at both of us but did not say a word as she began her morning chores.
“Start with laying the fire in the front rooms,” I told her, my voice harsher than I intended. I needed more time with my sister.
Leah nodded and left the kitchen.
I turned back to Grace. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head as she looked at me with something akin to pity.
I pulled back, surprised. Grace had never pitied me—even after I died in 1912.
There was movement on the stairs, and we both turned tofind Susannah entering the kitchen. She looked tired and cross six months into her pregnancy and was starting to show signs of discomfort and impatience—though that shouldn’t surprise me.
She stared at us as she made a face. “Haven’t you started breakfast? I’m starving.”
“I’m starting now,” Grace said as she turned back to the hearth.
Susannah’s gaze held mine, but I wouldn’t shy away—no matter what she planned to do to me.
“Hurry,” she said as she walked through the kitchen and entered the dining room.
As soon as she was through the door, I turned back to Grace.
“You have to accuse me,” I said. “We can’t wait another moment. As soon as she’s fed and there’s an audience in the dining room, she’ll start one of her afflictions and call us both out. We’ll be in the gaol within hours.”
“I can’t.” Grace shook her head.
I grasped her shoulder and turned her to look at me, desperate. Angry. “You would rather have both of us in gaol? Please, Grace.”
