The rooster’s crow echoed across the empty Illinois State Fairgrounds. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked away the sleep as I looked out the long, narrow window of the sleeper car. A lone piece of paper blew across the barren fairground and hit the wheel of the Vin Fiz Flyer, just in front of the grandstand. It stayed there, flapping in the wind for a second before it continued.
Rolling onto my back, I looked at the ceiling just above my head. The sleeper was comfortable—surprisingly so—but it was strange to know that just beyond the curtain there were eight other people sleeping. And one of them was Luc.
But my thoughts were on something else entirely. I still couldn’t believe Hope’s suggestion last night. All these years, I had been tormented by the ominous words of a dusty history book—and it was Hope herself who told me I needed to accuse her.
I put my forearm over my eyes and stifled a groan. How could I fight against Hopeandhistory? Her final words to me before we went to sleep last night were true.
“We’re running out of time.”
Susannah had not come out of her room the night before, but she would probably be rested enough to pretend affliction in the morning or afternoon—and then both of us would be hauled away.
At least I had today to contemplate my options—which were few.
It didn’t pay to try to sleep any longer, so I quietly pulled on my robe and went to the washroom at the end of the hall, where I completed my toilette and rebraided my hair. Breakfast wouldn’t be ready for another hour, so I went back to my berth to write a little before the others woke up. I had promised at least a few lines every day to theNew York Globe, which would be wired back to New York before we left Springfield to head southwest.
“Grace?” Mama whispered through the closed curtain a few minutes later. “Are you awake?”
I set down my pad of paper and pencil and pulled the curtain aside, offering her a smile.
We hadn’t had as much time together as I would have liked since the trip started. Every day, I made three legs of our journey. Each one was about sixty miles in length and took me a little over an hour to complete. The train was usually close behind, since I followed the tracks, and at each stop I would get a refueling, as well as any maintenance that was necessary. On these breaks, I also ate, made public appearances for Vin Fiz, and took care of other needs. It made for a long, busy day, and when night fell, I was usually exhausted and ready to sleep.
But Mama was here now, and I motioned for her to climb into my berth with me.
“I was hoping you’d be awake,” she said quietly as she saton the bed and closed the curtains for privacy. She was still in her nightgown and robe, her hair up in a night kerchief.
“Do you need something?” I asked.
“No. I just wanted to talk. I know we have a later start this morning, so I thought it would be a good time.”
I smiled as I leaned against the headboard. “What do you want to talk about?”
She looked down at the quilt on my bed and touched one of the loose threads. “Shall we start with Luc,” she asked quietly, “or end with him?”
Even though she wasn’t looking at me, I still dropped my gaze. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s hard to hide the look of love on a young woman’s face.”
I covered my warm cheeks with my hands, surprised Mama had seen it so easily. For years, when I thought I had been in love with Isaac, no one had noticed. Perhaps what I had felt for him wasn’t the kind of love I felt for Luc.
That thought stopped me in my tracks. Wasn’t I in love with Isaac anymore?
“Don’t worry,” Mama said with a smile. “It’s written all over his face, too.”
I groaned and pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging my legs close.
“What?” She laid her hand on my knee. “What’s wrong? Your father and I love Luc. He’s kind, respectful, intelligent, and his faith runs deep. We’ve had wonderful conversations with him on the train as we’ve followed your flights. What else could you want?”
“It’s not that,” I said. “I think Luc is wonderful.”
She nodded, and her smile fell. “You’ve decided to stay in 1692? Is that the trouble?”
“That’s not it—I mean, it is part of the problem, but—” I paused, not wanting to admit the truth. “Remember? Hope is in love with him.”
“Ah.” Mama bit her bottom lip and sighed. “I had forgotten. I can see how that would be problematic.”
“Even if she wasn’t in love with him, there is still the matter of my upcoming birthday.” My shoulders drooped. “I was planning to tell you when we got to California, but I-I think I should stay in 1692 for Hope. I can’t imagine being away from her or leaving her there alone. We’ve been together all our lives. There’s no one else who could possibly understand what we’ve been through.” I shook my head and lowered my gaze again. “Last night she told me I need to accuse her of witchcraft.”
“What?” Mama’s voice betrayed her surprise.
