Page 29 of The Frozen River

Joseph North turned and marched back down the hill. When he was out of earshot I stepped away from Ephraim, suspicion pinching the corners of my eyes. “What was that about?”

“I’ve asked Joseph to be at your parents’ when I take you home—”

“My father will be furious, but I hardly think legal protection is in order—”

“To marry us.”

I blinked. “What?”

Ephraim took one hand with great care, as though lifting a robin’s egg from a nest. “It’s been only two weeks since…” He wasn’t typically one to shy away from comment, but he couldn’t seem to find the words for this. He cleared his throat. Blushed. Ran a finger along the base of my thumb.

“I know how long it’s been.” I tried to yank my hand away, but he clamped it into his own.

“Your cycle,” Ephraim finally stammered. “It hasn’t come yet. Has it?”

“You can’t know that.”

“Am I wrong?”

My silence was answer enough.

“Have you considered what will happen if you’re with child?”

I heard the strike before I felt the sting in my palm, but it was the pain that brought me to my senses. “How dare you!”

He wasn’t hurt so much as startled, but he grabbed both of my wrists and pulled them to his chest to prevent me from doing it again. He shook me just a bit, and I felt my teeth rattle.

“What was that for?” he demanded.

“I won’t have you marry me out of pity!”

“You don’t think I want you anymore?”

“How could you?”

There. It was the truth. The unspoken tension between us.

Ephraim’s entire body trembled with rage. I was afraid he would shake me again. Or kiss me. I couldn’t tell which to expect by the look on his face. He did neither, in fact, but rather lowered his face until it was an inch from mine. “Let me be clear,” he growled, furious. “My feelings haven’t changed. But I need to know if yours have.”

I was overwhelmed. Terrified, even. But I shook my head because I did want to marry him. I always had.

Ephraim crushed me against his chest, my arms pinned between us, before I could register his immense relief. He buried a hand in my hair, rubbing little circles against my scalp with his thumb.

“Then you must marry me. Tonight. Take my name and they can never question the legitimacy of any child you ever have.”

I was neither small nor delicate. I had much of my father’s height and most of his stubbornness; and when I stood before Ephraim Ballard, I could almost look him in the eye. So I straightened my spine and leaned my forehead against the bridge of his nose.

“Take me home, then,” I said, “so we can be married.”

2 TO HOUSEKEEPING DECEMBER 1789

I’ll note you in my book of memory…. Look to it well and say you are well warn’d.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, Henry VI

BALLARD’S MILL TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1

One of the great cedar doors to the mill stands ajar, and a large bay mare is tied to the post outside. I don’t hear the expected sounds of saw and hatchet within, but rather the muted strain of conversation, so I stop outside the door and tip my head to one side, listening. The horse whickers, and I set a hand on its nose, urging silence so I can hear what is being said.