The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6)

by Shapiro, Irina

  “Tell me,” Jo said, her eyes huge with anticipation. “Please, tell me.”

  “I was adopted shortly after we were born. My parents, Susan and Roger Allenby, are wonderful people, the best parents I could have asked for. But despite that, I always longed to know where I came from. I’m a historian, after all; I needed to know my own story,” Quinn added. “I met our birth parents only recently. Our mother’s name is Sylvia Wyatt, and our dad’s is Seth Besson. He lives in New Orleans.”

  “He’s American?” Jo gasped.

  “Yes. He’s a good man, Jo. He never knew about us. He’d never have allowed us to be abandoned or separated if he’d known Sylvia had his children. He’d have looked after us.”

  “Why did she do it? Why did she leave me like that?” Jo asked, her voice full of anguish.

  “She was seventeen, and she wasn’t sure who the father of her children was. She panicked, especially when she realized you were ill.”

  “Have you forgiven her, then?” Jo asked, cocking her head in just the way Quinn had seen Sylvia do.

  “Not completely, but I’m working on it. She’s certainly not what I expected.”

  “Is Seth what you expected?”

  “Lord, no,” Quinn replied, laughing. “He’s the exact opposite, in fact.”

  “Do they have families?” Jo asked.

  “Sylvia is widowed and has two sons, Logan and Jude. Logan is lovely. Jude is a bit—shall we say—troubled. Seth is divorced and has one son, Brett.”

  “What’s he like?”

  Quinn thought about that for a moment. She’d promised not to upset Jo. Now wasn’t the time to spring Brett’s heinous crime on her. “Also troubled,” Quinn finally said. “He’s getting the help he needs.” Well, that was sort of true, Quinn told herself as she quickly changed the subject. “I’m married to Gabe, and have two wonderful children, Emma and Alex.” Quinn’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Everyone is so excited to finally meet you.”

  “Do you have photos?” Jo asked shyly.

  “I certainly do.” Rhys had been right, as usual. Putting faces to names was the best gift Quinn could offer Jo at that moment.

  “Start with Gabe and your children. Oh, I can’t wait to meet them. To think I have a niece and nephew. Are there others? Are our brothers married?”

  “Logan is engaged. He and Colin plan to get married this summer. They’re a great couple. Jude and Brett are single.”

  Quinn took out her mobile and began to show Jo photos. She grinned broadly when she saw Gabe and the children but became more somber once Quinn got to photos of Sylvia and Seth.

  “Does Seth know about me?” Jo asked, lifting her gaze away from the screen.

  “Of course. I didn’t tell him you were here because he’d have been on the first flight he could get. He can’t wait to meet you.”

  Jo stared at a photo of their dad. “He’s handsome, in a very American way. I look like him, don’t I?”

  Quinn nodded. “You do.”

  “And who is that?”

  “That’s our grandmother Rae. She passed away recently. I wish you could have met her. She was lovely,” Quinn said.

  “Brett and I look alike,” Jo said, her voice filled with wonder as she studied a photo of her half-brother. “Dad,” she whispered as she gently touched Seth’s face in the photograph.

  “Do you want to speak to him?” Quinn asked.

  “What? Now?”

  “Why not?”

  Jo’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” she whispered.

  Quinn selected Seth’s number and pressed the call button. Seth’s deep voice came on the line almost immediately.

  “Quinn, how are you, sweetheart? Is everything all right?”

  “More than all right. Dad, there’s someone here who wants to say hello.”

  Quinn heard a sharp intake of breath from Seth as the implication of her words sank in. “Put her on.”

  Quinn handed Jo the phone. Jo looked like she was about to faint, but she took the mobile and held it to her ear. “Hi, Dad,” she said softly.

  Quinn couldn’t hear what Seth said to her, but she saw Jo’s face break into a huge grin. “Yes, it’s all right with me,” she said. “Yes, of course.”

  They spoke for a few more minutes and then Jo handed the phone back to Quinn. She was glowing. “He’s coming, Quinn. He’s coming here. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow. I’m going to meet my dad.”

  “Would you like to speak to Sylvia?” Quinn asked carefully.

  “No, not yet.”

  “I told her I’d found you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Jo thought about that for a moment. “I have no objection, but I don’t want her here. I’m not ready to face her. I may never be.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Quinn said. “It’s your decision.”

  Jo nodded. “Until a few days ago, I was in no rush to go home, but now…”

  “I won’t leave until you’re released,” Quinn promised. “I will take you home.”

  Jo smiled and her gaze moved toward Rhys, who’d sidled into the room, carrying two steaming cups. “Rhys, I will never forget what you’ve done for me. I know you need to return to London and your own life, but I hope we can see each other again.”

  Rhys’s smile was luminous. “Of course, we can. I will come and see you as soon as you’re settled at home. And I will keep on seeing you until you ask me to stop.”

  “I’ll never ask that,” Jo replied.

  “Then I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Rhys joked, putting on his best Humphrey Bogart accent.

  “Here’s looking at you, kid,” Jo replied.

  “I hate to break up this lovely reunion, but Jo needs to rest now,” Dr. Stein said as she briskly entered the room. “You can return in the afternoon, if you like. I think you’re the best medicine,” she added, smiling at Quinn.

  “Will you come back?” Jo asked softly, her expression pleading.

  “Of course, I’ll come back. We both will,” Quinn replied. She gave Jo a hug and

  Rhys kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

  “See you later.” Jo was beaming as they took their leave.

  Chapter 55

  December 1620

  Virginia Colony

  Mary’s first Christmas in Virginia turned out to be quite memorable, but not in any way she might have anticipated. There was a dusting of snow on the ground and a brisk wind blew off the river as they rode into Jamestown for the Christmas service. Mary wrapped her threadbare cloak tighter about her, wishing she weren’t so cold. After the brutally hot summer, she hadn’t expected to ever mind the cold again, but she shivered as she sat next to John on the bench of the wagon. John, in his usual fashion, didn’t notice Mary’s discomfort and stared straight ahead, focused on the lane in front of him as if he might encounter another wagon on the deserted road.

  The church was packed, but unlike most Sundays, when the mood was somber, there was a festive atmosphere among the colonists, and even Reverend Edison permitted himself a genuine smile as he welcomed his parishioners. Mary had hoped to sit close to Nell or Betsy, but they’d made a late start and only the back pew was still unoccupied, so she sat between John and Travesty, grateful for their body heat since there was a cold draft so close to the door.

  No one lingered after the service to talk and exchange news and bits of gossip. Everyone was eager to return home, to enjoy their Christmas dinner and a few hours of rest. In England, tomorrow would be Boxing Day, but here in Virginia, no one bothered with the tradition since there were hardly any servants to give gifts to and everyone would treat it as just a regular working day.

  Mary and Travesty had prepared a venison stew flavored with onions and wild garlic and baked an apple cake for their Christmas dinner. They were careful with their provisions, given that the winter had just begun, but this was a special occasion and they’d made enough for everyone to have seconds. John set a jug
of ale on the table, inviting everyone to help themselves. Usually, they were allowed one cup, since John had to purchase barrels of ale from the tavern and they came dear, but today they could have their fill.

  Mary sipped gingerly from her cup. The ale soured her stomach, but there wasn’t anything else to drink except cold water from the well. She was hungry though. The queasiness she’d felt for the past two months was beginning to pass and she found herself ravenous, especially around midday. Mary tucked into the stew, enjoying the rich gravy that soaked into the cornbread she’d crumbled into her bowl. Even Travesty, who normally didn’t have much of an appetite, ate with relish and downed two cups of ale in quick succession.

  John and Simon drank cup after cup, and Mary was surprised to see some of John’s natural reserve melt away. After the meal, he began to sing, and was soon joined by Simon and Travesty, who was more unguarded than Mary had ever seen her, probably due to the ale. Her eyes glowed with warmth, and her slightly unfocused gaze seemed to be trained on Simon, who was flushed with merriment and goodwill.

  The traditional Christmas songs, which were meant to be festive, brought tears to Mary’s eyes. They made her ache with homesickness for England and days gone by when her parents had been alive, and she’d felt safe and loved. And for Walker, whom she hadn’t seen in several weeks. The lack of him weighed heavily on her heart, but it’d been difficult to get away. Travesty always seemed to be just behind her, and John and Simon were never far from home now that there was no field work to be done and they had enough meat to last them until spring.

  Mary bowed her head so no one would witness her distress. She wished she could walk out of the cabin and go to the shack in the woods. Of course, Walker wouldn’t be there, even if she could manage to get away, but she longed to see him with a need that was almost painful. She had to tell him about the baby. It wasn’t right to hide the truth from him, and she was desperate to share her news now that she was sure. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Nell. Nell was about five months along, and her rounded belly was just becoming noticeable beneath her apron. Several women in the colony were pregnant, but not a single child had been born yet, since the women who’d arrived the year before had mostly been indentured servants. Some of the first babies were due in the spring.

  Mary was about three months gone, in her estimation, and although her stomach was still flat, it felt different, more solid somehow, her skin stretched tight. Her breasts strained against the bodice of her gown and felt sensitive to the lightest touch, and she tired easily, desperate to lie down and sleep for an hour by midafternoon. Mary tried to resist the urge but found herself swaying with fatigue. She settled to easier tasks, such as sewing, to mask her weariness, but her usually nimble fingers grew clumsy as she darned hose or repaired a torn hem. Travesty was sure to have noticed the changes in Mary, but hadn’t asked her outright, for which Mary was grateful. She had no wish to share her news with the other woman.

  John finished a song and lit his pipe, closing his eyes with pleasure as he inhaled deeply. His normally tense face was relaxed, and he’d moved closer to Simon and was now leaning against his shoulder. Their proximity was not unusual for two men who’d been drinking, but Mary saw it for what it was, and it repelled her. She had been John’s wife for six months now, but the distance between them was as wide as the ocean she’d crossed to get to this wild place. Today, when snow covered the ground and the forest was silent and dark just beyond the boundary of John’s land, she felt like she was on the edge of the world, and if she walked too far she’d simply fall off and keep falling, until her humanity was stripped away and her soul flew away like a bird, singing its heart out in anguish because she’d never found the words to express her feelings as a woman. She had no voice, and no rights. She was John’s property, and the knowledge enraged her.

  “Well, this has been a fine Christmas celebration,” John said. His words were slightly slurred, and he looked ready for bed despite the early hour.

  “And it’s not over yet,” Travesty said, smiling at John as if she were about to give him the greatest gift. “Mistress, why don’t you share your news with us? You’ve waited long enough.”

  Mary’s eyes flew to Travesty’s face, but the other woman smiled blandly and patted her hand. “Come now, John has a right to know.” When Mary still didn’t say anything, Travesty stepped into the breach. “Our Mary is going to have a baby. Around June, I think. What say you, master?”

  “My congratulations to the expectant parents,” Simon exclaimed, filling the heavy silence that followed Travesty’s announcement. John seemed shocked by the revelation, but Mary seethed with anger. How dare Travesty take it upon herself to divulge her news? She was a servant, but just like Simon, she didn’t know her place and acted like the mistress of the house.

  “Yes, congratulations.” Travesty’s lips pressed into a thin line, while her eyes narrowed with malice. “May your child take after its father.” Travesty raised her cup in a toast.

  John finally roused himself enough to reply. “We have been truly blessed,” he said, fixing Mary with a direct gaze for the first time that day. What Mary saw there was not happiness at his impending fatherhood, but sheer relief. A baby would add a layer of legitimacy to their marriage and shield John from unwelcome scrutiny. A man who had a child lay with his wife and did his duty. No one could accuse him of not being a proper husband.

  “I need some air,” Mary croaked as she sprang to her feet and bolted for the door, grabbing her cloak as she passed. She pulled it on and kept going until she reached a stile and leaned against it, gazing at the woods beyond. The sky was a dusky lavender, dotted with pale stars that twinkled like a swarm of light bugs on a summer night. A huge, pale moon was rising, its rounded belly skimming the treetops in the distance. For just a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the air fresh and fragrant with the smell of snow and pine, the color of the sky deepening to a rich purple as night approached.

  Mary tried to drink in the beauty of the Christmas twilight and allow it to soothe her soul, but Travesty’s words filled her with dread. Had Travesty guessed the truth, or was Mary’s guilty conscience perceiving a threat where none was meant? Mary scoffed to herself. Of course, Travesty knew, just as she was sure to know John’s secret. Travesty and Simon held the power of life and death over them both, but John was too blind to see that. He seemed to have all the awareness of a stick of wood.

  Mary stood at the stile for a long time. She was shivering and her feet were cold in her thin-soled shoes, but she couldn’t bring herself to return to the warmth of the cabin. She had no wish to face the three people she trusted least in the world, the three people for whom she was nothing more than a pawn in their scheming. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and a stealthy wind moved through the trees. Somewhere out there was a man who loved her and was willing to risk his own place among his people to make her his family. And suddenly she knew with unwavering certainty that the child she carried was Walker’s, because the love she felt for it was so intense it took her breath away. She’d never feel this way about a child sired by John. Her mind might not know for sure, but her heart knew. It had always known. She closed her eyes and took a deep pull of the frigid air, enjoying its freshness. And the sound in her ears was no longer the wind, but a gentle voice whispering, bringing her to her senses, and giving her permission to be free.

  “I love you, Walks Between Worlds,” Mary whispered toward the heavens. “And I will go to the ends of the earth with you if that means we can be a family.”

  Chapter 56

  Mary eventually returned to the cabin. She hung up her cloak on the peg and took off her shoes. The fire had burned down low, so she threw on a few more logs and stood in front of the hearth, warming herself until she felt a pleasant somnolence steal over her. Travesty had already cleared the table and retired to her loft, and John and Simon were still at the table, too drunk to pay her any mind. They went out shortly after, John mumbling something about
taking a walk. He never came to bed at all, but Mary didn’t care. She turned her face to the wall and went to sleep, grateful not to have to endure his ale-soured breath.

  When Mary awoke the following morning, she tied on her apron and began going about her chores, her mind on her half-formed plan. She couldn’t simply walk off into the wilderness. She had no way to contact Walker and she didn’t know where his village was. The only thing she could do was tie a rag to the branch of the oak and hope Walker saw it and came to her. He’d find a way. By midmorning, she was ready. Mary grabbed a strip of linen from her work basket and stuck her feet in her shoes.

  “And where are you off to?” Travesty asked.

  “I’m going for a walk.”

  Travesty mumbled something about people who shirked doing their share of the housework and thought they could get away with it, but Mary ignored her and left the cabin. She walked to the creek and tied the scrap of linen to the branch, then turned to go back, but her feet wouldn’t move. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to see Walker. Now. Today. She knew he wouldn’t be at the shack, but that was the only place she could feel close to him. It was their place, their sanctuary. Mary turned on her heel and walked along the bank. The snow of the previous day had melted, so no one would see her footprints and figure out where she’d gone. She’d simply say she took a walk in the woods.

  The cabin was cold and dim, the ashes from the fire acrid in the ring of stones arranged in the center of the shack just beneath the vent hole in the roof. Mary sat on the cot and caressed the fur where she and Walker had lain, but it was damp and cold. She reached beneath and brought out the necklace. It felt warm in her hand and she held it close, wishing she could summon Walker with the sheer power of her need. Why had she waited so long to decide? Now the woods would be impassable in the north and they wouldn’t be able to leave until the spring thaw. Walker had told her as much, but she’d thought she had time.

  Mary got to her feet and was about to hide the necklace beneath the fur when she changed her mind. If Walker came, she wanted him to know she’d been there looking for him. She arranged the necklace on the three-legged stool that held a single candlestick with a nearly burned-down stub of a candle. He was sure to see it there. She then pulled the door closed behind her and turned for home. She had to hurry back before anyone became suspicious of her absence. This wasn’t the time to draw attention to herself, especially since she’d need to find a way to sneak out again soon.