The traffic on Snelling Avenue was thick as we approached the fair gates.
“I’ll drop you off,” Lewis told us, “and meet you by the lemonade stand after I park.”
We happily agreed and got out of his Chevy near the fairground entrance.
“The lemonade stand is over there,” I told Irene as I pointed to a tent on the right.
It was hard to find shade as we waited for Lewis. Irene was anxious to see everything, so I told her to start in the agricultural building and we’d catch up with her once we had the lemonade.
She waved at me as she walked away.
“I was wondering when I might get you alone,” a woman said from behind me.
I turned, shocked to find Annie. She was wearing the same dress she’d had on at the Castle Royal, but today she was wearing a hat with a wide brim.
“I thought you left,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
She shrugged and then took my arm and led me out of the thoroughfare to a more private area behind the tents. “We did leave,” she told me. “But we had some unfinished business, so we came back.”
It was strange to see her again, to know that this was the woman who held a key to my past—a key she didn’t know how to use. “How did you know I’d be here?”
Again, she shrugged. “It’s not that hard to find someone when you really want to.” She smiled. “You found me, didn’t you?”
It was my turn to smile—yet, there wasn’t much to smile about. “I just arrived in Boston in 1727,” I told her, sparing her the details about Marcus’s plans to turn himself and Edward into the authorities. It hurt too much to think about. “I’m going to Salem tomorrow to look for Rachel’s family.”
She nodded and glanced around before she leaned in and said, “There’s another reason I wanted to come back, Caroline. A couple, really. First, there is a woman you need to look for in Salem. Her name is Hope Abbott. She’s Rachel’s cousin. I don’t know much about her, except that she was in the Salem gaol with Rachel when she gave birth to me. She was there when Rachel died.”
I frowned. “How do you know?”
“I went to Salem,” she confessed, “before I died in 1713. I learned a little about Rachel, but I also learned the truth about my father, too—your grandfather. After what I discovered, I decided to stop asking questions.”
“You didn’t approach Hope Abbott?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I didn’t want to learn anything else. What I knew was hard enough. I didn’t think it mattered. Maybe it still doesn’t.”
“Knowledge always matters.”
“Not when it hurts.”
“Even when it hurts.” I thought of the knowledge my parents had about my siblings and me. Now that they knew what was happening with Andrew and Ruth, they were able to help. And because they knew about Thomas and Alice, I no longer had to keep it a secret. The truth had taken so much pressure off me. It also helped that they knew about my strange existence because now I could speak freely about it. And because I knew who Annie was, I could talk to her, too. “What did you learn in Salem that troubled you?”
Sweat beaded on her brow, and she wiped it away with a handkerchief before she said, “I learned that Rachel was not JosiasReed’s wife. She was his mistress. His wife stayed in England with their only son, and he came to Massachusetts as a merchant. He met Rachel Howlett, who was a Quaker, living near the town of Sandwich. She left her family and moved in with him, and that’s when she became pregnant with me. When someone learned about her, she was put in the gaol and accused of being a witch. That’s where she died, giving birth to me.”
I couldn’t believe my grandfather had done such a thing. He lived by a moral code that I couldn’t even live up to. Had he really kept a mistress while married to another woman? “What happened to his wife and child?”
“They died on the crossing. Apparently, he took me to South Carolina to start over. And he never told me anything except her name.”
“Grandfather?” I asked. “I can hardly believe it.”
“I couldn’t, either.” She slipped her handkerchief into her pocket. “I didn’t want to know anything else. I should have spoken to Hope, but I was afraid I’d only be more disappointed in my father and mother. Or worse, I’d be rejected by Hope and my family. I couldn’t bear it.”
“You and I have similar stories,” I told her.
“That’s the other reason I came back. I need to tell you something.” She put her hands on my shoulders, her brown eyes meeting mine. “Don’t repeat my sins, Caroline. Don’t follow an unworthy man to destruction. Decide what you want, and go get it. I learned about your parents here—the Baldwins—and I’m so happy for you. You have the chance to really make something of your life. I wasn’t so lucky. But that’s not an excuse. Don’t worry about 1727. Even if you lose it, you still have this life. Hold on tight.”
I didn’t want to tell her I’d fallen in love with a pirate in 1727.
“I can’t stay long,” I told her. “I have friends looking for me.”
