“Do you miss Rome?”

They were studying a drawing of one of the hundreds of Roman side streets. A flight of stairs that curved up a hillside, flanked by clay flowerpots on every step. The houses on either side had their shutters closed against the sun. The hottest part of the day, when everyone retreated until the late afternoon. In those first years she hadn’t even felt the heat, and she liked having the city to herself.

“No,” she said. “Or maybe I should say, there are things I miss about it, but I’m glad to be home.” She did not say, safe at home.

For that moment Lily was keenly aware of the curve of her belly. She willed the baby to move again, but Jennet was right; she was at its mercy and had no control at all.

The little people appeared in the open doorway to report on progress in the kitchen and tell tales on one another. Adam wondered aloud if Auntie Lily might be willing to teach anyone else how to draw, and the girls informed him that he wouldn’t need to borrow charcoal or a pencil, he had so much dirt under his fingernails. This sent them running to the kitchen again, where they would all insist on scrubbing their hands. What one must do, so must they all. Her own child would join in these games, and the one Jennet would birth this summer.

“Now that it’s getting warmer you should be spending at least part of the day in the air,” her mother said, bringing Lily up out of her thoughts.

Lily didn’t answer, because she wasn’t required to. There was always talk in her presence about where she should spend her time, the right combination of sleep and sunlight and interaction, tea and milk, red meat, new greens. They were worried for her and she loved them for it, but sometimes it did grate. Except today. Today she could bear any amount of coddling. Her baby was alive.

“They’re going!” one of the boys called from the front porch.

“Not yet,” Hannah said, coming into the doorway. She was dressed for the walk up Hidden Wolf, but she carried a tray that she set down where Lily could reach it. Covered plates and bowls, and lovely smells.

“My share of the party?”

“There’s more in the kitchen.” Hannah’s gaze moved over her face and torso. Her doctor look, brow lowered to a sharp V. Lily didn’t like to think too much about what went through her sister’s head. The calculations she went through, every day, on Lily’s progress toward bringing this child into the world.

Hannah said, “We’re off in a minute.”

Elizabeth said, “Will you tell Gabriel and Annie that I expect them for supper next Sunday? And whoever else wants to come from Lake in the Clouds. Where is Daniel?”

“He’s gone ahead.”

“With Marrrrthaaaaaa,” called Isabel from the doorway in a long singsong that ended in a giggle.

“Silly geese,” Hannah said. “Martha is going to walk up with us.”

She kissed Lily on the cheek and smiled at her, but Lily found it hard to return the smile.

Chapter XXVII

They set out for Hidden Wolf when the first hint of dusk was in the air. They were on foot and everyone carried a basket or box. Ethan had a keg of cider strapped to his back, which was odd indeed. If Martha were to ask Lily to draw him like this and she sent the drawing to Manhattan, no one would recognize him. He had shaken off that other person, the city version of himself, and he seemed healthier if not happier for it.

The procession on foot was part of the ice-out tradition, Jennet told Martha. And in truth Martha didn’t mind the long walk. It would give her time to gather her thoughts and try to sort out exactly what was going on.

Callie had been gone not a quarter hour when there was a knock at the door, and Martha went to answer it with her heart in her throat. But it wasn’t Daniel, as Callie had predicted. Instead Ethan had invited her to Lake in the Clouds for the ice-out party. Ethan had accompanied her dozens of times before—to recitals and museums and receptions—and this invitation felt no different. Friendly, detached. She asked for a half hour to get ready, and spent the whole time wondering where Daniel was.

She shifted the basket she carried over her arm. Again she wondered if she should have brought gloves, warmer boots, a scarf, and again she reminded herself that there was no cause to be so nervous. This was a party, after all, and she would be among friends. Certainly there would be pelts enough at Hidden Wolf to keep everyone warm, even if the weather should turn.

Up ahead of her on the path there was talk and laughter, but Martha moved more slowly. It had been such a long time since she had come this way, and with every new view she found herself stopping to look out over the river valley that ran away to the east. As the gloaming came over the mountains every tree seemed to be outlined with light, while behind her the shadows stretched through the woods like the gentle touch of a mother’s quieting. Thrushes and finches were settling down for the night while the nightjar and owl roused themselves. Grouse scratching in the underbrush, and the cooing doves, the bark of a fox. It was so beautiful, and somehow she had simply forgotten what it was like. What it was.

Hannah called her name and Martha hurried to catch up, casting a glance back over her shoulder. Still no sign of Callie. The full impact of the afternoon’s conversation had not hit her until an hour later. Then she sat, trembling hands folded tight in her lap, and tried to reason her way through what had happened and what she was feeling.

It was no use; there was no way to put a better face on what had passed between herself and the person she still thought of as a sister. The memory wouldn’t be denied or even put aside for very long. Martha pushed it down once again, Callie’s anger and hurt—there was nothing else but to admit that somehow, without thinking, she had caused Callie great hurt—and once again it rose to leave a sour taste in her mouth.