C-001 Carr 1565 1593
C-002 Carr 1587 1618
C-003 Carr 1602 1638
C-004 Carr 1630 1671
C-005 Carr 1661 1707
C-006 Carr 1690 1738
C-007 Carr 1722 1778
C-008 Carr 1755 1816
C-009 Carr 1789 1852
C-010 Carr 1821 1892
C-011 Carr 1854 1930
C-012 Carr 1887 1968
C-013 Carr 1938 1991
Pressure builds behind my ribs, creeping outward as I lean closer to the screen.
Different men?
They have to be.
I know this name already. Carrson’s father and grandfather were both named Carr, but I never thought to go back farther than that. Now, as I continue to scroll, it’s clear I made a mistake. The years peel back one by one, like I’m traveling through time. 1900s. 1800s. 1700s. The pattern doesn’t break. It only deepens, each entry opening into a longer record when I select it.
That’s when I see the women.
Each Carr is followed by three female names. Always three, listed separately, as if that number is expected. Required.
I stare at the screen without understanding what I’m seeing. Wives, maybe. Family branches. Genealogy twisted by time into a format I don’t recognize. But even as the thought forms, I reject it. Because the longer I go over it, the less that explanation fits. Why would they each haveexactlythree wives?
Then I see the first name that’scrossed out.
Not erased or deleted. Marked.
A thin line slices cleanly through the first woman’s name in one entry. Under that, another line.
Eliza Whitcombe.
Cause of Death: Childbed Fever
My skin goes cold.
I scroll.
Another name, crossed out.
Anne Harrow.
Cause of Death: Typhoid
