She stood in the woods, perhaps three hundred feet from the clearing. The sun was coming up but the sky was so overcast she had difficulty making out objects right in front of her. She could see the light from Mackenzie’s room through the trees. It was only a small flicker through the foliage, but to her it was a beacon. That stupid room. It was a stigma. A scarlet letter. The fire that burned that part of the house so many years ago branded the family forever.
Her father did nothing to fix the room when he should have. People might have forgotten what happened had he at least attempted to fix it. Instead he just boarded it up and left it as if he didn’t care. It was a constant reminder of things best forgotten. When she was little she’d walk to the back of the house and stare at it. She felt shame even back then but she wasn’t quite sure why. Then she’d walk through the tunnel and go up the narrow steps. It was a quiet forbidden place that was all hers. No one came to that part of the house anymore. She’d sit amongst the charred wood and listen to the vibrations of the past.
There hadn’t been much in it when it was burned those years ago. A table, some fancy cabinets around the sides. A small bathroom that was more like an indoor outhouse from what she’d heard, but extravagant back then. This wasn’t a place to entertain. No, it had been a secret meeting place for Quakers and other abolitionists. Some very prominent people had gathered there.
That fire was more than just the intentional burning of stone structure and wood supports and furniture. It was the burning of the good Monroe name. It was the burning of an era. It was the burning of the sins of the entire family, those alive and those not even born yet. Nick included.
She stared again at the light coming from the window. Mackenzie must be up, she thought.
“Thank you, Harry.”
He was staring through the woods at that same light. “I did it because you asked me to. I hope there’s something in there.” He pointed to the book in her hands. “Otherwise, I almost got caught for nothing.” They were silent for a few seconds.
“She started her search for James in the photo room.” She clenched the journal tightly in her fist. Her hands shook slightly. Harrison reached out and steadied them. “By accident or design, not a bad place to begin.”
Harrison stared at her. “She won’t find him there.”
“Won’t take her long to connect the dots. Or maybe it will if that stupid look on her face is any indication of what’s going on inside her brain. But she has a little friend helping her now.” She looked up at him. “That McBride boy. William’s son.”
Harrison snorted. “She works fast. I always feared William knew. He and Bradford were thick as thieves.”
Cora shook her head. “Bradford died in his house before he had a chance to say a word.”
Harrison turned to her. “This is snowballing. Adding young McBride is not good. Not good at all.”
“So, how do we get out of this thing?” she asked. He said nothing. “How do we win, Harrison?”
“Keep our distance and watch her. At the critical time, when I say,” he jabbed hard at his chest, “we get her out of here, one way or the other. But you,” he put his hands on her shoulders, “have to keep yourself together. I’ve seen you slip a little over the past few days, Cora. Hold yourself together, and we’ll get through this just fine.”
She nodded. “I will…”
The words had barely been formed when she heard noise. Footsteps. Harry and Cora stood silent. They felt her presence entering the woods.
Harry pointed down at the journal in Cora’s hands. “Full of girlish fantasy and disappointment. She’s weak, Cora. How Nick could have even stayed in her presence for a minute is beyond me. She’s a simpering fool. An idiot. She doesn’t stand a chance. That’s how we’re going to win this thing. Now go.”
Cora obeyed.