FATHER RETURNED A WEEK LATER and was soon notified of the attack on the Barry men. I was present when he called Jones to his study to catch him up to speed on things around Livingston. I tried to hide my smirk at Father’s reaction to the news: a loud chuckle and slapping his leg in delight.

“That is great news! I applaud the men who took care of those imbeciles.” His green eyes glinted.

The attack changed things between Father and me for the better. That horrible day had opened his eyes, and he began to see things in a new light. He asked my opinion on things around the plantation. He called me into his study to chat, and though it was awkward for both of us at first, I recognized his attempt and suppressed the mixed emotions his efforts stirred in me. Learning to overcome my constant fear in his presence would take time.

Our letter achieved the desired effect, and the stories died down about the men in the masks. Things went back to normal on the plantation, and the guards were dismissed from their posts a few days after Father’s return.

Today I planned to divulge to Father my growing knowledge about my mother. I hoped to get the answers I needed to the questions that still plagued my mind.

Now, seated on the window seat in my room, I lowered my book to my lap. Resting my forehead against the pane of glass, I inspected the activity below. I loved to read, but after days of being cooped up in this house, I was going stir-crazy.

How much reading can one person do, anyhow?

My eyes roved the whole of the backyard until they idled on Mary Grace pinning bedding on the clothesline. The unhappy expression on her beautiful face made my heart ache. While I watched, she raised a hand and briskly wiped at her eyes with the back of it. Was she crying?

I set my book aside and ran from my room. The vibrations as my feet pounded down the back stairs pummeled the walls of the narrow space. I swept out the back door and ran across the yard, ducking through the bed linens until I stopped beside my friend.

She paused as she was about to pin a sheet to the line. “Miss Willow? Did you need something?” She attempted to change her sad expression with a fake smile.

“Mary Grace, I saw you crying from my window. What’s wrong?” I touched her arm as I searched her face.

Mary Grace’s eyes darted over my face as she struggled with the desire to tell me versus staying silent.

“It’s all right, Mary Grace. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I can’t. I don’t know what to think myself. I’m in a real mess now.” She bent to gather another sheet from her basket of wet laundry.

I waited for her to continue.

Mary Grace straightened and glanced at me sideways as she positioned the linen on the line, her movements agitated. “I don’t think I can handle much more of this.”

I didn’t grasp what she was getting at, but I stifled the impulse to push her to get to the point.

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted through gritted teeth.

I imagined grounding my heels in the soft earth beneath me to keep from staggering back at the sudden news.

“And I don’t know if the baby is those monsters’ or Gray’s.” She fired words from her mouth like a cannon on the battlefield.

“Did you tell Gray?”

“I can’t bring myself to. What if he doesn’t want to help me raise a baby that isn’t his? How do I raise a baby when it could be a constant reminder of that day? My shame would forever confront me, every waking day.”

“Gray loves you more than anything, Mary Grace. He will not turn you away.” A wave of tenderness swept over me. I gently took her by the shoulders and turned her to face me. Her lovely face was twisted with the torture of what-ifs.

“I know he loves me. But it is a lot to ask of him or any man.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

I peered deep into her troubled eyes. “Tell him, Mary Grace. You can cross the bridge of who the baby’s father is when the baby comes. What about Mammy? Have you spoken to her?”

“No, you are the first. And honestly, I would’ve kept this to myself a while longer if you hadn’t been spying on me.” She tossed me a half-smile.

I sheepishly grinned. “I see everything, and don’t you forget it. I’ve got eyes in the back of my head like Mammy.”

The remark scored me a giggle from her, and her face brightened with a flicker of the old Mary Grace.