I shook my head. “That’s the first place Father will look, now that he knows we’ve been in contact with them. And we can’t put them at risk.”
“What of Isaac? He will help us.”
I couldn’t ask Isaac for one more thing. Our conversation from before filled me with shame. I had used him far too much. I needed to take care of myself.
A thought took root in my mind, growing with intensity, until I knew it was the only possible way we would both come out alive.
I took Grace by the shoulders and turned her to look at me. “You will need to accuse me.”
Her mouth parted, and she looked as if she had seen an apparition herself. “What?”
“’Tis the only way, Grace. There are no afflicted people in prison. You must act afflicted, like Susannah and the others, and then call me out. It will spare you from the gaol.”
“That’s—that’s—” She shook her head, speechless, and took a step back.
“’Tis brilliant,” I said. “When you accuse me, I will be taken to prison, and when they question me, all I need to do is confess.”
Her speechlessness turned to confusion. “What are you saying?”
“Those who confess have not gone to trial. The magistrates accept their confession and then move on to those who maintain their innocence, like Rachel and Ann.”
“You would confess to something so heinous?”
“I am confessing to nothing. ’Tis not true, so I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She looked even more confused. “But everyone will think ’tis true.”
“Who?” I shrugged. “No one we care about believes any of the people who have confessed are witches. We all know why they confess.”
She continued to shake her head. “I cannot send you to the gaol, Hope. ’Tis unlivable.”
“I will survive. This cannot go on for much longer.”
“I don’t know how long it lasts,” she said. “You could be in there for months.”
“It matters not to me. Either you send me there or Susannah will. And if you accuse me, at least you’ll be free. There’s no reason we both need to be there.”
“You could accuse me.” She nodded, as if this was the better idea. “I can be there. I have another path to break up the monotony.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I will not hear it. You need to focus on your journey to California. I don’t want anything to hinder your effort to help Mama and Daddy.”
“You don’t think the knowledge that you’re in gaol would hinder me?”
“This is the only way, Grace. Besides, I know you. Once you’re being questioned, you’ll decide you need to tell the truth, and you won’t admit to the charges. You’ll be hanged with Rachel and Ann.”
She dropped her gaze, and I knew she couldn’t argue with me. It was true.
When she looked up again, there was remorse in her gaze. “I’m sorry, Hope, but I cannot do it. We’ll need to find another way.”
There was no other way.
24
GRACE
SEPTEMBER 10, 1912
SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS
