“Where are you taking us?” I asked.
“I thought you might want to visit your family . . . their resting spot, I mean,” Beth said as she tied the boat to a cleat. “After that, we’ll head to the fields for the social. No one will even know we were gone.”
We set out past the meeting house to a small stretch of woods on the western edge of the corn.
When we came to a clearing cluttered with gravestones, I froze.
Hanging by her ankles from a battered oak was the dead girl.
Beth and Rhys stepped around me.
“The oldest stones date back to 1541,” Beth explained as they strolled around the cemetery. “Alonso’s wife is buried here.”
“His wife?” Rhys asked in disgust. He hated cheaters.
“She died almost immediately after arriving at Quivira, while giving birth to their fifth child.”
“That’s terrible.” My brother shook his head. “So did Coronado have a wife, too?”
“No. He was a widower, like Katia. They each had four children from previous marriages. But Marie was Katia’s only daughter.”
I took a deep breath and stepped toward the dead girl. The girl Katia said I was tied to. I could almost feel her grip around my ankle.
The worn stone plaque beneath her body had nearly been swallowed up by ivy. I pulled it away. MARIE ANNE LARKIN. BORN APRIL 13TH, 1524. TAKEN FROM US ON JUNE 21ST, 1541.
I felt the past slipping over my throat like a noose, pulling me down into the depths.
? ? ?
She moves through the corn, all shadow and light—the rustling of her skirts, the flush of her cheeks, the patter of her heart—the heavy scent of secrets all around her.
As she reaches a clearing, a figure appears in the distance, beneath a tree full of black birds. “Coronado,” she says, a smile engulfing her face.
They embrace under the safety of the flowing branches.
His long dark hair mingles with her golden tresses—his deep olive skin pressing up against her alabaster.
“Did you get the information I asked for?” he whispers in her ear.
“Do you love me?” She runs her fingers through his hair.
He pulls away from her to study her face. “More than life itself.”
She looks down at the ground, almost as if she’s ashamed. “You won’t hurt her?”
Coronado lifts her chin, tenderly. “No, but Alonso bears my mark. He must pay for his betrayal.”
“And then you’ll come for me?”
“Marie.” He strokes her cheek. “Yes, mi amor.”
“The meeting is set. Midnight at Silk Pond.”
He starts to pull away, when Marie grasps his hand. “I’m going to keep trying,” she says with a desperate edge to her voice. “If the Great Spirit makes me immortal, we can be together forever.”
“If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
“Don’t give up on me.”
“Until tonight . . .” He slips his fingers down the length of the black silk ribbon fashioned around her throat.
As she watches Coronado walk away, she presses the ribbon against her lips, her eyes welling up with tears.
? ? ?
“Ashlyn?” Beth placed her hand on my shoulder, jarring me back to the present.
“It’s her . . . it’s Katia’s daughter . . . Marie.” I gazed up at her body, seeing the dead girl in a whole new light.
A drop of blood fell from the cut on Marie’s hand, splashing onto the stone. Beth flinched.
“Did you see that?” I whispered.
Beth just smiled back at me with that blank expression. “What on earth do you mean?” she asked as she flitted off to my brother’s side.
When I looked back at Marie, she was gone.
“This can’t be right,” Rhys said, startling me.
I turned to see him standing on the outer rim of the cemetery, his eyes fixed on the ground. “‘Nina Lee Larkin, born February 6th, 1977.’ The plaque next to hers is ‘Thomas Mendoza, born April 25th, 1978.’ Our dad,” he whispered.
“The stones on the outer perimeter aren’t graves,” Beth explained as she plucked a leaf from a nearby tree, tracing the veins running through it. “They’re commemorative plaques to honor the Larkin girls and Mendoza boys who’ve walked the corn. I’ve heard your father was very nice . . . and handsome.” She looked up at my brother; I swear I saw her blush. “No one knew that Nina and Thomas were in love,” she said as she glanced back at me. “They thought Nina would choose Spencer at the wreathing ceremony. It was a surprise to everyone, especially Spencer.”
The thought of my mother choosing Spencer completely creeped me out. “Why did they think she’d choose him?” I brushed the dirt from my knees and joined them.
“Spencer had been sweet on her forever,” Beth said as she hopped over a stone and then smoothed down her dress. “Though the Larkin girl is supposed to choose her mate based on scent, there’s a fair amount of arranging that went on between the parents. But your mother defied them all and chose love.”