Page 20 of A Lullaby for Witches

When Augusta left work that evening and waved goodbye to Jill, she looked up to find Chris parked outside.

“Hey!” She should have been excited to see him, grateful that he’d taken the time and effort to come visit her, but all she felt was a little disappointed not to have the car ride home to herself to regroup from her strange day. Forcing herself to smile, she gave Chris a side hug and peck on the cheek. “What’s up?”

“I was in the area. Do you want to get dinner?”

She left her car at Harlowe, and as they drove to a nearby tavern together, Augusta told him about her day, careful to omit the hallucinations. She wouldn’t tell Chris about those—he wouldn’t believe her, and she didn’t want to give him the opportunity to doubt her. He nodded along, putting in a word here and there. This was why they were together, she reminded herself. They were compatible, comfortable. Who cared if it wasn’t exciting anymore? Why did it matter? But since starting at Harlowe House, a spark had been lit in her, and deep down she knew she could never go back to the way things had been.

11

Margaret

Black is the color of my true love’s hair

His face so soft and wondrous fair

The purest eyes

And the strongest hands

I love the ground on where he stands.

—“Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair,”

Traditional Folk Song

It was October when my courses ceased. My breasts grew tender, and I often found myself sick at the sight of food. For all my wishing and dreaming of a baby, I was terrified of the physical changes that seemed to happen overnight. Would I still be beautiful? Would Jack still find me desirable? Would I even recognize my reflection in the mirror come this time next year? Though my body was no longer my own, I liked having a secret. Who was this stranger who was growing inside of me? Would they love me as fiercely as I already loved them? Would they be my ally, my companion, my dearest little friend?

I had not yet told Jack about the child, as I knew that the early months were fraught with danger, and that I could lose it at any time. Jack and I had spoken at length about what our future might look like. We would lie on the sun-warmed rocks and watch the tide seep in as we built our castles in the air. And though I was content with these snatched moments of happiness, I wished that he was not so hesitant to be seen with me in town, for he still did not want his parents to know of our attachment. They would need time to come round to the idea of his marrying me, he explained. Never mind that my family was wealthy and well respected; it was understood that I was different, that I was not fit for marriage.

On a crisp day when the late afternoon sun slanted through the reddening trees, I laced on my boots and slipped out the back door. I had hardly reached the gate when I heard footsteps in the fallen leaves approaching me at a leisurely pace from behind. Shadow growled, his hackles standing on end.

“Hullo, sister.”

I stopped, groaning inwardly. “Hello, Henry,” I said, unlatching the gate without turning.

“Where are you off to this fine afternoon?”

“Just going for a walk.”

Henry hurried to catch up to me, slipping through the gate before it could shut. “All alone? Where is this beau of yours that supposedly worships the very ground that you walk on?”

I didn’t particularly care if Henry believed me about Jack or not, but I certainly didn’t want him interrupting our precious time together. “Just walking today, no beau,” I said.

“Excellent. Then I don’t suppose you would mind your doting brother escorting you?”

He didn’t bother waiting for an answer before he fell into step beside me, his sleeve brushing my arm. Shadow trailed us, sulking. He did not care for Henry.

Henry chatted with me about the weather, George’s engagement and how he wished he didn’t have to return to Boston to work. The sun was dipping ever lower, and soon it would be dusk and I would miss my rendezvous with Jack. Henry was going on and on about how boring his work was and how he was destined for greater things, when I spun and faced him. “I have to go. I promised Mrs. Crenshaw that I would bring her seaweed for a poultice.”

Henry frowned. “It’s almost dark.”

“The tide is going out, and I’ll miss it.”

I could see the indecision warring on his face. I knew that, on one hand, he would not want to get his clothes dirty scrambling down the rocks, but on the other hand, that he was unwilling to let me go.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, giving him my warmest, most sisterly smile. “Tell Mother I’ll be late, and not to wait for dinner on my account. I’ll make myself a plate later.”

When at last Henry’s reluctant footsteps had faded back down the path, I hurried toward the rocks where I had promised to meet Jack.

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