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Prologue

July 1913

Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Are you sure?” Leah Garrison looked at her best friend. “Susanna, are you absolutely certain?”

“Oh, Leah, I’m with child. There’s no doubt about it. My monthly times have been absent three months now. There’s no other explanation.”

Leah sat down on the edge of Susanna’s bed. “Who . . . who is the father?”

“Who else? Terrance Deveraux, my beloved.” Susanna went to a picture of the man on her dressing table. “He’s the father,” she said with a sigh.

“Have you told him?”

“Yes.” She frowned and sat down on an ornate wooden chair. “He refuses to believe the baby is his. He said that I’ve played him fast and loose.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I swear, Leah, I’ve never been with anyone but Terrance.”

“I believe you.” Leah nodded sympathetically. “I know you’ve had eyes for him alone.”

At seventeen, both girls were watched with great interest by their social circle to note when they paid more attention to one gentleman than another. The newspaper had printed more than one society notice mentioning Susanna and Terrance being seen together. The last article even questioned the possibility of wedding bells before the year was out.

“He wants nothing more to do with me. He told me he was going to Europe to spend the summer abroad and that he wanted to forget about my scandalous behavior. Leah, what am I going to do?”

“Have you told your parents?”

“No, but I must. I did confide in my maid Gretchen. She’s been loyal to me for years. She tried to help me see a doctor, but it didn’t work out.”

“A doctor?”

“A midwife, actually.”

“For what purpose?” Leah fixed Susanna with a hard look. “Were you trying to put an end to the matter?”

“Well, Gretchen said there were things that could be done.”

“But that would be murder,” Leah said a little louder than she’d intended. She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Susanna, you cannot punish the child for the sins of the father.”

“And what of me, the mother? I know I did wrong, Leah. I know I’ll never be able to live with this. My parents are extremely religious, as you well know. I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I’d be better off dead.” She buried her face in her hands and began to cry in earnest.

Leah was beside herself. What could she say? Could one of the charities her family was involved with help? There was Bethany Home, a charity that aided unmarried mothers-to-be, but that was designed for ladies of ill-repute and poor women who’d been put upon by cads and forced into compromising situations. Susanna was a young woman who’d enjoyed the best of everything life could offer. She could hardly go to the current institute for unwed mothers.

“You mustn’t say such things, Susanna. You aren’t better off dead. Remember that only God can create life. This baby is His creation. We must think about what can be done to help you in this matter. There must be some place you can go where you can receive proper care and give birth. You could then give the child up for adoption. I’m sure my mother or grandmother will know of a place.”

“That will take far too much time. Everyone will know,” Susanna declared, looking up. Her cheeks and eyes were wet, a look of pure misery etched in her expression.

“Some might suspect, but it’s none of their concern.” Leah did some mental calculations. “It’s July, and you’re three months gone. That means this baby is due in January. We just need to find somewhere you can go to until after the baby is born.”

“But there is no place.”

“Don’t you have a relative or someone your parents could pay to take you in?”

Susanna shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone. Oh, I’ve made such a mess of things. My whole life is over.”

“No, it’s not. Look, I think you should talk to your parents. I’ll go with you, if that would help. Or if you need someone they respect to stand by you and make suggestions, I’m sure my parents would be happy to do so. They’ve always gotten along well.”

“It’s true, they have.” Susanna took a handkerchief from her dressing table drawer and dabbed her eyes. “But such a thing would shame them. They’re going to be so angry and disappointed in me. Perhaps I can tell them the truth, and then your folks could talk to them a few days later.”

“Yes, that might work. Something very intimate and private. Mother could invite them over for dinner. Just the four of them.”