Goodman Dounton, the gaoler, unlocked the door to our cell, allowing us into the sunshine for a bit of exercise. He didn’t do this every day, but on occasion, when Isaac and Grace came to visit, he would let us out. I wondered if Isaac was paying him a handsome fee for this privilege, but I would never ask. Isaac didn’t do things for attention or praise.
As soon as the door opened, I left the horrid smells behind and threw myself into Grace’s arms. Thankfully, none of the accusers or magistrates were present, or they would question why my sister would accuse me and then visit me in gaol everyday. I suspected that Isaac also paid Goodman Dounton to keep Grace’s visits a secret so the others wouldn’t question her. The fact that Father knew she came to me but did not stop her was a mystery. Was it that Susannah simply wanted me gone and didn’t care what happened now?
It felt good to embrace my sister, even as I looked over her shoulder at Isaac. He stood near the brick wall, a basket at his feet, and simply watched as Grace and I greeted one another. It would not be acceptable for me and him to embrace, though I wanted his arms around me again. I wanted to see if it felt the same a second time. Had that moment in the upstairs room been special because it was charged with emotion—or was it something that I would feel every time?
I finally pulled away from Grace and tore my gaze from Isaac.
“There are so many things I want to tell you,” Grace said to me.
“And so many things I want to hear. Hopefully, when I’m out of here ...” I let the words trail away, because I didn’t know how long I would be in the gaol. Would our birthday come and go in that time? Would Grace still be here? I needed to know but had to speak quietly and in a way that no one would question. “Have you made your final decision?”
She swallowed and nodded. “I think—I think I will stay here.”
I closed my eyes, trying not to weep as I embraced her again. We just held each other without saying a word as we both cried. No one understood what I was feeling like Grace. The pain of loss was so deep, and the fear of losing her was so profound, it robbed me of words.
I pulled away from my sister, trying to control my emotions.
Grace struggled to look at me. “I told Mama and Daddy—but I haven’t told Luc yet.”
“He knows about—us?” I stared at her, stunned.
“He overheard Mama and me talking, so I told him everything.”
“And he believes you?” I continued to whisper, though it was difficult with the shock I felt.
Grace nodded.
“He knows about me?”
“Yes.”
Luc knew I was still alive—somewhere—and he believed Grace. I looked at Isaac, who waited quietly several feet away. Would he believe me if I told him the truth? Somehow, I suspected he would.
But none of that was as important as Grace’s earlier comment. She was going to stay with me in 1692. Her words were the sweetest I had heard all week—and she had agreed to stay even though the man she loved was in 1912. But did she still love Isaac?
A sinking feeling hit the bottom of my stomach. I had thought I needed to convince Isaac to fall in love with Grace so that if she stayed here, she would have the man she loved. Yet I had done the opposite. I had welcomed Isaac’s kisses in the ordinary, pulling him closer. It was my heart that fluttered at his arrival, and it was his gaze that warmed me now.
Things I had not told Grace.
With her staying, I would need to step away from Isaac. Allow her to pursue him and win him over, as I knew she could.
I didn’t realize there was more of my heart left to break, but as I thought of Grace in Isaac’s arms, the little part that remained unbruised was torn in two. Yet it was the sacrifice I could make for Grace, as she had sacrificed so much for me.
“Time’s up,” Goodman Dounton called, though we’d only had a few stolen moments in the sun. “Everyone back to the cell.”
“I love you,” Grace said as she handed me the basket she had brought. “And as soon as this is over, we’ll find a way to move on.” She took a step back, giving me space to approach Isaac.
Instead, I stayed near her and nodded my thanks to Isaacfrom across the courtyard. It hurt too much to speak to him or be so close yet not be able to touch him.
I saw the longing in his gaze but turned back to the cell, trying to keep my composure.
As I waited in line to return to our prison, there was a touch on my arm. I looked down as Isaac slipped his basket into my hand. My pulse raced when I glanced up into his beautiful blue eyes.
“For you,” he said.
“Thank you.”
And then I was in the cell with the door being locked behind me.
