“Hope?” a male voice whispered through the door. “Grace. Are you awake? I saw the candle still burning.”
“’Tis Isaac.” With relief, I reached around Hope and yanked open the door, wincing when it creaked on its hinges. “Come in,” I whispered with a warm smile, though my heart still pounded.
Hope backed up, clearly relieved to see Isaac, as well, though she probably wouldn’t admit it.
“Are you alone?” Isaac asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said, “everyone is abed.”
Isaac nodded and then held up his hand, asking us to wait, and disappeared into the darkness again. Cold air filled the kitchen and made the flames flicker in the hearth.
I frowned and exchanged a look with Hope.
Within seconds, Isaac was back—and this time he was not alone.
“Ann,” I said, surprised to see Ann Pudeator on Isaac’s arm. “’Tis too cold to be outside. Come in.”
She entered the kitchen slowly, looking around, as if to make sure we were alone. Her hands showed signs of arthritis, and I could only imagine her knees and other joints also ached in the damp night air.
I put several more logs on the fire, though it was late and Father would hate the excess. He’d probably hate to know Ann was here, as well, but we wouldn’t tell him.
“Warm yourself,” I told her as I pulled a chair closer to the fire.
Isaac helped her sit. She was much too old to be out this late at night, and at such a long distance from home.
“Is it true they’ve arrested Rebecca?” Ann asked, her brows wrinkled.
I nodded. “She’s upstairs now.”
Worry lines creased her eyes and mouth. “I’ve known Rebecca my whole life. She is no more a witch than I.”
“She’s under guard,” I said, “or I would suggest you visit with her.”
Ann lifted her hands to the fire. “I cannot stay long. Isaac was kind enough to fetch me when I sent word, but I must get home as soon as possible. If anyone knows I’ve come here ...” She let the words trail off.
I pulled chairs over to the fire so we could sit with her. “What brings you all this way?”
The firelight danced in Ann’s eyes as she looked from me to Hope. “I could not live with myself since your last visit. There are things you must know, and it wasn’t right that I withheld them.”
“You were afraid,” I said, understanding. Whatever she had to tell us had brought her out on a cold, dark night. It must be very serious.
“Fear is no excuse for doing the wrong thing. In my desire to protect myself, I have deprived you of the truth. That isn’t right.”
I put my hand over her arthritic one. “I do not want you in harm’s way.”
“What I have to say will put all of us in harm’s way—you most of all.”
Her words sent a shiver up my spine.
“You can tell us,” Hope said. “Your secrets are safe with us.”
“If only that were true.” Ann took a deep breath and glanced at Isaac, uncertainty on her face.
We had told Isaac what Ann said in Salem Towne, so I wasn’t surprised when Hope said, “Isaac is safe. You can trust him.”
He sat up straighter at Hope’s comment. Did she realize the power she held over him?
Ann seemed satisfied with Hope’s reassurance. “I told youthat your mother didn’t die in childbirth. But I didn’t tell you how she died.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the stairs that went up to our private rooms. She dropped her voice and said, “Your mother was hanged in Boston.”
