Martin looked up into Sara’s eyes. “Of course she was injured, Sara. She fell fifty feet down a well.”
He shut his eyes, pictured Gertie down there, turned on her side, as if she’d just fallen asleep.
Sara nodded, her head bobbing too fast. “But Lucius examined her, didn’t he? Did he find anything … unusual? Injuries that might not have occurred in the fall?”
Martin looked at her for a long time. “What is it you’re asking, Sara?”
She took in a sharp breath, held her head high. “I believe it is possible that Gertie did not fall down that well.”
“But, Sara, how do you explain—”
“I believe she may have been murdered.”
Martin dropped his spoon, and it clattered to the floor.
“You cannot be serious,” he said, once he’d regained his composure.
“Quite serious, Martin.”
“And on what basis …”
Sara smiled calmly. “Gertie told me,” she said.
All the air left his chest, and the room suddenly got dim. Sara seemed far away and small. There she was, across the old pine table from him, an untouched bowl of stew before her. The oil lamp flickered at the center of the table; the fire in the old cast-iron cookstove crackled. The window above the kitchen sink was frost-covered, the night outside blacker than black. He couldn’t even see a trace of stars.
Sara’s face, pale as the moon, seemed to get smaller still. He reached out for her, his fingertips brushing the edge of the table.
It was as if he were falling, tumbling, spinning, down, down, all the way to the bottom of the well.
Visitors from the Other Side
The Secret Diary of Sara Harrison Shea
January 26, 1908
This morning, I waited until Martin left the house, then hurried to the closet. I knocked on the door—tap, tap, tap—but there was no answer.
“Gertie?” I called out. “It’s Mama.” Slowly, I turned the knob, which felt cold in my hand. The door creaked open. In the half-light of morning, I saw that she was gone.
I pushed aside my drab dresses, Martin’s shirts, but there was no sign of her. No proof that she had ever been there at all.
The closet looked so empty.
“Gertie?” I cried out again. “Where have you gone?”
I searched the house, the barn, the fields and woods. But my Gertie was always so good at hiding, at fitting herself into such tiny, unlikely places, that she really might be anywhere.
Perhaps she is playing a game, I told myself. Hide-and-seek. I kept turning corners, opening doors, looking under furniture, waiting for her to jump out and surprise me.
Boo.
I was hauling everything out of the front-hall closet when Amelia arrived late this morning.
“Aunt Sara,” she said, kissing my cheek and glancing at the pile of coats and shoes I’d pulled out. “How delightful to see you up. And you’re cleaning?”
“I’m afraid I’ve lost something,” I told her.
“Sometimes things have a way of turning up once we stop looking for them,” Amelia said, her eyes dancing with light. “Do you not find that to be true?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Now, you must come to lunch with me! I have a surprise for you—something wonderful. I’ll help you put all of this away, and we’ll leave at once.”
“I don’t know,” I said. What if my Gertie should return while I was out?
“It’ll just be for a couple of hours. I think it’ll do you a world of good. Uncle Martin thinks so, too. Though you must promise not to tell him about the surprise—I think he’d be quite upset with me!”
“All right, then,” I agreed, reluctant to leave, but curious about the surprise.
The ride into town was pleasant. The sun was out, and Amelia has a lovely new carriage with red leather seats. Amelia fussed over me, making sure my coat was buttoned all the way, covering me up with a blanket as if I were an invalid. She chattered brightly about this and that—girlish gossip I was not listening to. My eyes were fixed on the woods that lined our road, searching for movement in the shadows, some trace of my little Gertie.
“Are you listening, Aunt Sara?”
“Oh yes,” I lied. “It’s all very lovely.”
She gave me an odd look, and I thought that I really must try harder.
Amelia married Tad Larkin last spring—the son of the mill owner here in West Hall (one of the wealthiest families in town). They live in a big house at the end of Main Street.