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“Massachusetts is chock-full of historical sites,” the construction worker said. He talked as though this sort of thing happened to him daily. “We’re taught to immediately stop working and call in a historian so as not to damage anything. We have to preserve what’s left behind, you know?”
Wes felt himself smile. He dropped his shoulders and studied the wall, behind which was a tremendous secret. He was nearly seventy-three years old. He hadn’t assumed he could still be surprised.
“How about that?” he said finally, then laughed. The construction workers joined in behind him, cackling together beneath the earth. There was so much they didn’t understand about the past or the future. But one thing was clear—everyone loved a mystery. They were on the brink of something enormous. Something life-altering. Something much better than a silly spa.
Chapter Three
From the Diary of Martha Smith
November 16, 1863
Nothing prepares you for walking all night in the frigid north. Thousands of stars spackle the night sky, and I crave their heat. I imagine them dropping out of the sky to warm me. My belly is big and pregnant and heavier every day. Everything I eat goes to it. The rest of me is skin and bones—tender sticks.
The most difficult part of the journey, besides the baby and the fear and the darkness, is the trust you have to have for the ones who guide you. It is not as though we come from a world where we learned how to trust.
Tonight, we took a boat across a frothing ocean. It was my first time on the water like that, and I wept quietly throughout the entire trip. I do not know how to swim. Neither does Virgil nor my sister Jane. If we tipped over, we were doomed. By the grace of God, we made it. And now we are here.
From a distance, the house looks massive—three stories along the water with a wraparound porch. A single lantern hung near the door, beaming its orange warmth. This is always our indicator. Here is someplace safe. As we neared it, the worst pain I’ve ever felt shot through my lower belly and across my back, and I fell to my knees. The pain left as quickly as it came. When I regained consciousness, I found Jane and Virgil on either side of me. Their eyes were wide with concern. They were worried about me but also about getting to the house before the sun rose.
It occurred to me that I’d wanted to flee because of the baby. But because of the baby, I might not make it all the way to Canada. To freedom.
Virgil half carried me to the door, where we were immediately ushered inside and brought downstairs. Everything was frantic. Another spasm of pain crept toward me. I could feel it, so I didn’t focus too hard on the faces or whispered names. It was always this way when we were received. We were taken in and shoved in a room somewhere so that if someone had followed, they wouldn’t be able to find us. This particular room is hidden behind a thick wooden wall that has a sort of trapdoor that allows entry and exit. I assume you can’t really see it from the outside. I hope you can’t.
That’s what I mean about trust. You have to trust that people have arranged a safe house for you. That it’s safe enough. But nothing is ever safe on the road.
Virgil doesn’t want to believe I’m fully in labor. I write this between contractions. When the pain comes, I put a rag in my mouth and heave through the pain. I cannot make a sound. If we’re too loud, there’s a risk the people upstairs will throw us out. They can’t risk it. There’s no telling who’s followed us from the South or what kind of demons have come to drag us back home.
I know I’ll need help soon. I know the baby will scream and cry and put is all in danger. But I can’t help but feel a strange shimmer of hope. My baby will be born in a free world. My baby will not be a slave.
Chapter Four
Present Day
A few hours after Amanda’s career crumbled, she had to get serious about the next phase of her life. Squeezing Sam’s hand with her left and Susan’s with her right, she scrunched her face and pushed with all her might until her baby appeared. At the sound of the first cry, Amanda spasmed with relief.
“It’s a girl!” the nurse announced.
Susan cried quietly and kissed Amanda on the cheek. “You did so good, honey.”
Amanda laughed and opened her arms for her daughter. She was the tiniest thing she’d ever seen with jet-black hair and pink skin and fingers like flower petals. This had been the source of her ten months of acid reflux and vomiting and sleepless nights. As a swell of love came over her, she thought, it was worth it. It was all worth it.
Susan left Mom and Dad to enjoy their first moments with their baby alone. For the time being, Amanda forgot all about her suspended legal license. She kissed Sam, kissed her baby’s toes. She mumbled about how exhausted she was and burst into laughter that made her cry again.
“You look so beautiful right now,” Sam said, then snapped a photograph and showed it to her. She looked tired and slightly sweaty and happier than she’d ever been.
Another version of Amanda might have demanded Sam delete it. She might have quickly done her makeup and asked for another. But Amanda was a mom now. She wanted to live in the moment of this first impossible love.
“I thought you were going to faint,” Amanda teased Sam after the initial shock fell away. “You were really pale.”
“I’m not as strong as you. That’s obvious,” Sam said.
“I think she’s probably having the weirdest day of all of us,” Amanda said of her daughter.
“Poor little baby,” Sam agreed. “We’ll protect you. We’ll make you comfy and safe.”
Amanda’s heart swelled. “Do you have that list handy?”
“The name list?”
