Mark’s truck had nothing in common with a carriage except that they both moved people. On the outside, this machine was big, black, and noisy. After Mark lifted me inside, he strapped me to a slippery seat with a belt that nearly choked the breath from my body.
Worst of all, his truck moved at a frightening speed. I made an attempt to watch at the beginning of the trip. But as other vehicles moved past us at even greater speeds, I found it best to keep my eyes shut for the remainder of the trip. I pressed a hand to my roiling stomach and prayed that I would not be sick in his fine, horseless carriage.
“We’re here,” he said.
I shook off the apprehension of the last hour and looked around me. We sat in a small clearing in the woods. A house made of logs rested between us and the glimmer of a lake. A garden with tall cornstalks and vines heavy with vegetables flourished to one side, while flowers crowded into any spot around the yard where a beam of sunshine might stray.
This place didn’t feel nearly so foreign.
He left the vehicle and walked around to lift me down. I couldn’t hide a wince as my aching legs took my weight. My whole body felt battered and bruised.
A door slammed nearby. An elderly man and woman waited on a wooden porch with no roof.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked, his hands warm at my waist.
“Yes.” I sucked in a relieved breath, glad that the rushing ride had ended.
“Don’t worry about how to say or do things. You’ll be fine, and I’ll be right beside you.”
“Okay.” I tried to smile at him. I wasn’t sure if I succeeded.
He linked his fingers with mine and led me to his grandparents. When I sought to tug my hand away, he wouldn’t release me. Were such signs of affection no longer private?
“Hello, Susanna,” the elderly woman said. She had the same amber eyes as Mark and a sweet, welcoming smile. “I’m Norah, and this is my husband, Charlie.”
The elderly man bobbed his head once.
“Hello.” I would have to use their Christian names for now, since they’d given me no last name to use. How very familiar. “It is nice to meet you.”
“We’re glad to meet you, too. Come inside, dear.”
The front room took up half of the house and had no ceiling, but extended straight to the beams of the roof. I marveled at this room that soared two stories high—unusual and majestic.
There was a stone fireplace, and a wooden floor waxed to a lustrous shine. Rugs in bright colors lay scattered about. They had two large sofas and several chairs in pleasant shades of brown. The furniture looked more comfortable than elegant, a choice that I applauded.
“Mark,” his grandmother said, “can you tell me about Susanna’s ankles?”
I looked around to find the other three staring at my feet. How odd that I had forgotten them. The pain had not left me. It had merely lessened. Yet there was so much to see in this new place that my mind had been occupied otherwise.
Mark sighed. “You need to take a look at them, Gran, to check for…stuff.”
“What happened?” Norah asked, her gaze shifting from her grandson to me.
How much of the truth should I share? When I looked to Mark for guidance, he gave me an encouraging nod.
“My master shackled me three weeks ago. He was afraid that I would escape.” I couldn’t stop a tiny smile of satisfaction that his fear had come true.
Her eyes widened, but she did not comment further. Instead, she gestured for me to follow her. “All right, dear, let me show you the most important part of the house. The bathroom.”
I trailed after Norah down a short hall. She stopped halfway to push open a door.
“Would you like to have a moment of privacy, dear?”
“Yes, please.”
There were things in this room that needed explanation, things that Mark had not explained at his house and I had been too dazed to ask about. At one end stood an empty closet with a glass door and no shelves. Beside the toilet sat a fat spool of white paper. Lined up on the counter were two bottles with spigots on top. Would it be better to discuss these things with Norah or Mark?
Probably Mark. The answers might be embarrassing to discuss with a man, but there might be some things even a “cult girl” should know.
When I finished relieving myself, I opened the door to find Norah in the hallway waiting for me. Behind her on the wall was another lifelike painting. A photograph. It held two little girls, the older with short blonde curls, the younger with long hair of a rich, dark red. They both had amber eyes. I paused in admiration.
“May I ask who they are?”
Norah nodded. “My daughters.” She pointed to the blonde one. “That’s Sherri, Mark’s mother. And the other is my other daughter, Pamela.” She turned to me, a sad curve to her lips. “She died five years ago.”
“Does this reminder not pain you?”
“Forgetting her would pain me more.” She inclined her head. “Did you leave a lot of loved ones behind?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The kindness in her voice nearly undid me. “My mother and sister are still there. And several children I tended.”
“Do you worry for their safety?”
I shook my head. “They live in better circumstances than I did.”
“Maybe you’ll see them again someday.”
The ache of unsaid good-byes rippled through me. “I do not think it likely.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, pulling me into her embrace, “you’ve done a courageous thing today. Let yourself grieve. Don’t be surprised if you’re sad and confused for a very long time.”
I rested against her, weary, without tears. Could the sadness ever completely fade? Perhaps not. But it was so lovely to have her understanding.
“Well, now. Are you ready to return to the living room? I want to see what Mark did to take care of your ankles.”
Mark and his grandfather were talking, sitting across from one another on sofas. They stopped when we arrived. I perched beside Mark and waited, unsure what to do, while Norah knelt at my feet.
He whispered into my ear, “It’s fine to relax. She loves fussing over people.”
While his grandmother exclaimed over my wounds, I reclined into the sofa, my body sinking into the soft cushions.
Charlie stared at me from beneath beetled brows. “Mark’s been telling me about your ordeal, Susanna. I’m sorry I couldn’t have beaten up the bastard alongside him.”
Norah looked over her shoulder. “Charlie, really.”
I turned toward him, fighting the urge to smile—and yawn. “I am grateful for the sentiment.”
He grunted. “This is a beautiful place we have here on the lake. Stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Charlie stood. “Mark, I could use you down at the dock.” He gestured toward the door.
Moments later, I saw them walk past the windows on the side of the house and disappear in the direction of the lake.
“Susanna, I’ll re-dress your ankles, but I’m going to give you something to ease the pain a little.” She patted me on the knee and then disappeared from view. I didn’t move, the desire to drowse too strong.
I dutifully took the pill she offered and then observed, through half-closed eyelids, Norah carefully removing the bandages and applying fresh medicine. Eventually, I allowed my attention to drift.
It was all so peculiar. When I had awakened this morning, I had been bound by chains. My thoughts had been fixed on this day, the children I loved, the sister I missed, and the numerous chores that stood between me and returning to my straw pallet. I had refused to think of the future and the unfathomable event that would require Joan Hinton to replace me. Only a few hours later, I had lost both the chains and my loved ones.
A new future stretched before me, yet I could not compel my mind to think on it. There was too much to learn, too much to see, too much to feel. The enormity of what lay ahead pressed against me, making it hard to breathe. I wanted to weep and hide.
Closing my eyes, I yielded to Norah’s ministrations. She was gentle.
So very gentle.
And I was so very tired…
* * *
The cushion beside me shifted.
“Hey, sleepy head,” Mark said. “I hate to disturb you, but you’d better get up now.”
My eyelids fluttered open. Had I fallen asleep?
“Your grandmother must think I am terribly rude.”
“No, she thinks you’re exhausted.” He smiled at me. “She and Granddad went to the store to get more bandages and stuff.”
“They left us alone?” I tried to smile but yawned instead. “This is another difference in our centuries. It is not proper for us to be without a chaperone.”
“They trust us to make the right decisions.”
“Do you deserve that trust?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
His face wore such a sorrowful expression that I had to chuckle. “It would be tempting to see how true that is.”
“Oh?” His eyes lit with anticipation. “Go for it.”
I lifted my face for his kiss. It was sweet and brief and lacked the fascinating heat of our earlier kisses. Yet I liked this kind, too.
“You saved me.” I tucked my head against his shoulder.
“We’ve saved each other—in more ways than I can count.” He pressed a kiss to my brow. “I couldn’t let you die, Susanna. I would’ve come back every day until you were safe.”
“I owe you so much.”
He laid light fingertips against my lips. “You don’t owe me a thing. You’re alive. That’s the only thanks I need.”
I nodded in acknowledgement of his statement, but knew this wasn’t the last time we would speak of it. My gratitude would never end.
He brushed his mouth against mine. “Now, is there something you would like to do?”
“Indeed, there is.” I sighed happily. There was much to learn. I was ready to start. “I want to understand some items in the bathroom.”
* * *
We ate our dinner at a table by the kitchen. The food was simple: chicken, potatoes, and green beans. They drank tea, sweetened with sugar and poured over chunks of ice. It was strange, but I drank it, nonetheless.
“Have you had enough, Susanna?” Norah asked, eyeing the food still on my plate.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with an apologetic smile. “It is delicious. I am…”
“It’s okay. I’m done, too.” She pushed back and stood. “You and I will sit outside on the deck and watch the sun set. Mark and Charlie can handle the dishes.”
So they called the uncovered porch a “deck.” The list of words I must remember grew longer with each sentence.
And the gentlemen doing chores? Mark and his grandfather would clean up while Norah and I sat and talked. It might take me a while to adjust to such a truth—but I would, no doubt, grow to love it.
As Norah and I crossed to the front door, she said, “You have beautiful hair. So thick. And such a gorgeous shade of brown. Did you wear it down where you used to live?”
“No, I had to wear it up on my head under a cap as I worked.”
“That’s a shame. But no more. You can wear it any way you like now.” Norah’s eyes took on a shiny glow. “Would you let me brush and braid it while we visit?”
No one had asked this question with such eager anticipation since I was a little girl.
“I should like that very much.”
For the next hour, we sat on the deck while she brushed my hair with soothing strokes and talked to me of gardens. While we were still engrossed, Mark and Charlie came out, watched us for a moment, and then wandered together into the darkness of the yard. They didn’t stray far, for I heard voices among the trees and the snap of branches.
“Susanna, you’ve been trying to hide your yawns. I think we should get you to bed.”
“Do not be offended, please. I am deeply grateful for all you have done.” I watched her reaction earnestly.
“No, hon, I’m the one who should apologize. You’ve had a traumatic day. You need to rest.” She stood. “Come on.”
She led me into the house and up a narrow staircase against the far wall. At the top was a simple space overlooking the front wall of the house with its huge fireplace. This tiny, open room held a chair, a table, and a low, backless couch.
She pointed to a door at one side. “The guest bedroom is in there. You’ll have peace and quiet.”
I nodded.
“Mark?” she called over the railing.
He appeared below and looked up. “Yes, Gran?”
“I’ll help Susanna get ready for bed. Sleep in the loft tonight, so you can hear her if she needs you.”
It didn’t take long. Norah handed me a garment she called a “granny gown.” It was beautiful—pale, silky, and trimmed with lace. Once I had it on, I was under the covers in no time. As she exited the room, her fingers tapped a white square, shutting off the lights. I flinched at the abrupt darkness and wondered if I would ever stop preferring the soft glow of candles.
Mark appeared in the open doorway a minute later, his body a silhouette against the light from the ground floor.
“Tired?”
“Indeed.” I lay stiffly in Norah’s nightgown, quilts pulled up to my chin, head cradled in the thickest pillow I had ever seen on a bed.
“How has your day been?”
I smiled as best I could. “Your grandparents have been gracious. I am most grateful.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t ask about them. I asked about you.”
“I should have liked to spend the whole evening holding your hand.” I blushed at the boldness of my statement. This new world had already begun a stealthy reshaping of me.
“Me, too.” He stepped into the room and stood by the bed, leaning over to press his lips to mine. “I’ll be right outside your door all night long. If you need anything, just call.”
“I shall.”
“Anything at all.” He straightened and then returned to the doorway. “I mean it, Susanna. Just say you need me, and I’ll be here.”
“I shall remember.”
* * *
I slept fitfully at first. When the tossing and turning awakened me again, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for sounds of movement, but the house remained still. I glanced at the clock, with its numbers glowing red in the dim room. When had clocks lost their hands? They had become easy to read in this century and could be found everywhere—relentless reminders of the passage of time. Their precision alarmed me. I didn’t wish to measure minutes so carefully.
It was after midnight.
Mark’s grandparents slept on the ground floor in a large chamber with its own bathroom. Directly above them were my room, the loft, and another small room with a narrow bed. There were four people in this house and four bedchambers. So much space for so few people.
I rolled over. The bed was big enough for three, yet I had it all to myself. It was thickly cushioned and smelled like a flower garden. I hugged the edge and smoothed my hand along the sheets. They felt like silk.
I had never been so uncomfortable in my life.
The lake house was cold. I lay under a blanket. A warm blanket in a cold house in the middle of summer.
The house hummed. I couldn’t hear insects chirping or coyotes howling or the clicking of tree branches in the wind. Only the hum of a cold house.
What had I done? Why had I come here?
My mind revisited the events of the day. How could it be that barely twelve hours ago I had lived in a different place and a different century?
Why hadn’t the townspeople tried to follow me across the creek? They wouldn’t have found me there, but they couldn’t have known that.
Might they believe I had been swept away by the current like my father?
Had the Pratts punished Dorcas?
When would Phoebe learn that I had disappeared? If only I could have left her a letter.
The sheet grew wet beneath my cheek. I was afraid to be here, yet I did wish to live. Why had I been faced with such a choice?
I crammed my fist into my mouth. I did not wish to be alone.