for the tourists. If you want strawberries, we’ll go through John.
He’ll do us fair.”
Charles knew she’d say that, of course. They’d already had
this discussion when Thom had come back with a basket of fruit
two days prior. But Cora was no longer arguing with Minnie,
because now she had a task. And both sisters had forgotten
about Arthur. The way Minnie studied the older boy, Charles
suspected he was the source of her far-off, troubled gazes. Divert-
ing her attentions from Arthur was also essential to his quest for
a kiss.
“Yes, let’s avoid the market,” Thom said, shuffling his feet and
dodging Charles’s eyes with an odd intensity. Come to think of it,
Thom had been in a strange mood when he came back with that
silly basket of fruit. Charles had thought it merely worry for his
health, but maybe it was something else entirely.
“The old church is on the way. It’s haunted,” Minnie said,
with the same reverent sweetness another girl might comment on
the stained-glass windows or historic steeple.
“Perfect!” Charles held out his elbow to her, noting with plea-
sure when Arthur drifted behind them.
The chapel was a narrow white building, too small for the
town but lovingly maintained. Its steeple, domed and adorned
with a simple iron cross, had been saved when the previous chapel
burned down nearly a century ago. Rising two stories above the
single-story building, it was a landmark everyone used to navigate
around the flat seaside curve of the town center. There was
nowhere worth going that couldn’t be found via the cross, as Mrs.
Johnson was fond of saying.
Charles found the interior to be like the inside of most houses
of worship — dark and smelling of age, the pews worn with the
weight of desperate faith and tedious complacence. He’d often
wondered how, exactly, one’s prayers were supposed to make it
through so much dim, dusty space between the heart and the
ceiling.
Many people invoked God when finding out about his condi-
tion, but Charles didn’t much care either way. If God wanted to
cut his life short, God would have to worry about what to do with
him afterward. It wasn’t any of Charles’s concern. When he was
younger he had figured out that there was no way to fit faith into
the workings of his everyday life in a way that made sense, and so
he had shifted religion to the side as a useless extra part.
Thom walked in past the pews and straight to the small organ,
tucked into the wall beneath a carved arch. Cora sat at the edge of
a pew with her hands folded sedately in her lap, while Minnie
prowled up and down the center aisle before noticing Thom sit
down on the organ bench and run his fingers lovingly along
the keys.
“Can you play?” she asked.
Thom sighed, silently fingering notes. “Mostly the piano,
though I can play the organ, too. I miss it like breathing.”
“So that’s what you’re always doing with your fingers.”
Cora tapped her own in imitation. If she’d noticed that, maybe
Thom had a chance at a summer kiss of his own. Charles
needed to decide whether he wanted to help his brother in that
regard.
Minnie sat next to Thom on the bench. “Play something!”
Thom’s feet worked the pedals and the first few notes of “All
Creatures of Our God and King” tumbled out, lifting along the
rafters and pushing aside the weight of dust and dim. Some
of the tightness left Charles’s chest. He did not know how to fix
the holes his absence would leave for Thom, but he hoped music
would help.
“Boring!” Minnie said. “Do you only know hymns?”
Grinning mischievously, Thom’s well-trained fingers transi-
tioned immediately into a ragtime piece. Not “Maple Leaf Rag,”
as none of them would ever again be able to hear that song without
dreadful associations, but another fast, rowdy, joyous tune.
Minnie squealed with delight, standing and twirling through
the church to the closed front door, where Arthur leaned in the
shadows. “Dance with me!”
The line between Cora’s brows appeared. “Perhaps this isn’t
Minnie spun by, dragging Arthur with her. Charles cursed his
lack of breath. The walk here had cost him already, though he
tried to hide it.
“Don’t be sour, Cora,” Minnie said. “How could God hate
anything that makes your heart feel like dancing?”
Charles nudged Cora with his shoulder, forcing her to look at
him as he gave her his most winning grin. He knew the full impact
of his large hazel eyes, as well as Cora’s proprietary desire to make
him happy. She shook her head and darted nervous glances back
to the door, but her brow relaxed. She even began to tap her foot.
Thom’s fingers flew over the keys, building up to the end of
the song, when a fist banged against the front door of the church,
causing him to stop. Their ears rang with the missing notes.
The door rattled, catching against the bolt.
“Locked it,” Arthur said with a shrug, stopping Minnie mid-
twirl. His hands lingered at her waist, and Minnie flushed. “Out
the side.”
Cora stood with a low moan of despair or fear, but Minnie and
Thom shrieked with laughter, following Arthur past the pulpit
and into the dark corner at the front where a small door led to a
tiny, closet-like study. Charles and Cora brought up the rear, and
together the five tumbled out of the study into the fast-fading day.
“This way,” Arthur said, turning down a side street and taking
them on a winding, circuitous route through the town. Minnie
took Charles’s arm; she was nearly as breathless as he was, glancing
constantly over her shoulder for pursuit. Charles was too happy
that she had chosen his arm to care very much whether they were
caught.
An angry shout tumbled between houses after them.
“Charles can’t run much longer!” Thom said, puncturing
Charles’s mood. Though Charles was hoping they’d be caught
very soon. He could feel his heart, ragged and rebelling against
this strain, no matter how pretty the girl at his side.
Arthur nodded toward a row of houses. “Minnie, hide with
him. We’ll keep the chase going.”
Tugging his hand, Minnie pulled him through a narrow gap
between fences and into an overgrown yard with an old wooden
swing. They ducked low, letting the strands of grass tickle their
cheeks.
“I’m so glad you came this summer,” Minnie whispered, eyes
shining with her own brand of fierce delight.
Charles ignored the painful twists in his chest and the loss of
sensation in his hands. “I am, too. Can I tell you a secret?”
Her eyes lit up even brighter. “Yes!”
Smiling slyly, Charles leaned closer. “It’s a very big secret. I’ll
have to whisper it in your mouth.”
Just as understanding wrote its way onto Minnie’s face, Ch
arles
pressed his lips against hers. Kissing Minnie was like laughter,
light and joyful and utterly lacking in guile.
As soon as she pulled away, grinning and pushing his shoulder
in playful reproach, Charles was already plotting how he could do
it again. As Minnie peeked through the fence to see if they were
free, Charles looked toward the house.
A bearded man stood in front of a large window, barely visible
through the summer sunshine. He was watching them, smiling,
but Charles felt no warmth.
“Who lives here?” Charles whispered.
Minnie didn’t turn around. “No one. It’s always empty.
Let’s go!”
Charles didn’t take his eyes off the man until he and Minnie
were safely through the fence, but he could feel the weight of his
gaze all the way home.
Boston, Massachusetts, 1926
Richmond, Virginia, 1928
Tampa, Florida, 1929
Hattiesburg, Mississippi, 1930
Prague, 1931
Cappadocia, Turkey, 1935
Sofia, Bulgaria, 1933
Cairo, Egypt, 1936
December, 1941
ten
M
INNIE UPENDED THE ENTIRE JUG OF SWEATER ONTO
CORA'S HEAD. As her sister sputtered, Minnie put her
hands on her hips and said, “Well, now you’re wet,
anyway. May as well swim.”
Cora shrieked in rage and stood, chasing Minnie down the
rocky beach. Minnie darted left, into the breaking waves, sure
she’d be free. To her shock and delight, Cora followed, plunging
into the water after her. Minnie “tripped,” falling forward in front
of Cora, who pushed Minnie’s head under an obliging wave before
helping her to her feet. They were both chest-deep now, the water
bitingly cold.
Cora’s eyes blazed with rage, but then turned up at the corner,
and before she could catch herself, she was laughing. Minnie threw
her arms around her sister’s waist, using the water’s buoyancy to
lift her up in a hug.
“Race you to the rocks!”
Cora hesitated, turning back toward the shore where the boys
looked on, bemused, dry and comfortable if a bit too hot. Then
she reached down, pulled off her shoes, and flung them onto the
beach. One hit Thomas’s shin, and Minnie thought he looked
decidedly pleased.
Without warning, Cora dove forward, pulling herself through
the waves with the strong strokes their father taught them.
“Cheater!” Minnie laughed, taking off after her but knowing
she’d never catch up. She didn’t mind.
When they got to the rocks that marked the edge of the
narrow, sheltered cove beach, they clung to them, breathing hard
and blinking salt water out of their eyes.
“Thomas fancies you,” Minnie said.
Cora sputtered, and it wasn’t because she had swallowed water.
“He’s very kind. But I don’t think —”
“Oh, he absolutely does. Don’t be coy. Do you like him? I
think he’s nice. Too serious by half, but he’s handsome enough.
Devastatingly so when he’s playing music, don’t you think?”
It had been three days since they had observed Thomas’s
transcendent time at the organ. Even Minnie had fancied him
when he was playing, and Cora’s flushed cheeks turned a deeper
red at the memory. Minnie leaned forward, throwing one cold
arm around Cora’s neck. “I’m so happy. Right now, I’m the happi-
est girl alive.”
“You always exaggerate,” Cora chided, but she sounded happy,
too. “What about you? I think Charles likes you.”
“Oh, he’s mad for me. He kissed me.”
“Minnie! You let him?”
“I’ve kissed every other boy in town.” Her eyes found their way
automatically to Arthur, standing with his toes nearly in the water,
watching them. Not every other boy. Not her favorite, her best, her
secret.
“Honestly, you need to be more careful. A girl’s reputa-
tion is —”
“It was just a kiss, Cora. Kisses are like candy. Everyone should
be able to enjoy them, and no one should take them seriously.
Charles is a doll, and if it makes him happy to kiss me and me
happy to kiss him, where’s the harm?”
“If things turn sour . . . We need the money. We can’t afford
to lose them as boarders.”
Minnie rolled her eyes, then splashed water at Cora. “They
aren’t going anywhere until the summer ends.”
Minnie looked at Arthur again, and this time she wasn’t secret
enough to avoid being caught at it by Cora.
“Oh, Min,” Cora said, her voice soft and sad. “You —”
“I what?” Minnie’s voice was falsely bright, her smile painful.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. Just remember that some
things can’t happen.” She gave Minnie a significant look, then
shrugged so they could both pretend they didn’t know what they
were referring to. “Remember that Charles is sick. Just be care-
ful, okay?”
Climbing up onto the rock where they used to sun themselves
and pretend to be mermaids, Minnie spun with her arms lifted
above her head. “Never!” she shouted, jumping into the water.
When they finally slogged back onto the beach, waterlogged
and freezing, Minnie could tell that Cora already regretted this
relapse. Taking the picnic blanket, Minnie wrapped it around
Cora’s shoulders, leaving an arm around her waist and whispering
nonsense to her as they walked home. If she clung to her sister, if
she held her tightly enough, she’d be able to get her back.
“You boys go in the front,” Minnie said as they drew close.
“Distract our mother.”
“You mean she doesn’t like you two to go swimming in the
ocean in your clothes?” Charles asked, teasing.
“Oh, no, any mother approves of that. It’s the hair she’ll be
upset about.” Minnie held up a tangled strand of dark curls.
“Go on,” Thomas said. “We’ll ask her to make us some
food. She thinks we’re constantly on the verge of starvation.”
“You’re a peach! Come on, Cora.” They broke off, sneak-
ing toward the back of the house and through the veranda. Waiting
a couple of minutes, they slipped out of their shoes again, tiptoeing
through the hall to the narrow set of servant’s stairs hidden in the
back of the house, lit only by a small, circular window. Their
stockings left wet prints as they walked.
Minnie cracked open the door to the second floor, check-
ing that the coast was clear before waving Cora forward. They
were just making their way to their room when a throat cleared
behind them.
Squeaking, both girls turned around to find themselves face-
to-face with one of the boarders. It was the man, the one with the
mustache and silver streak in his hair. Minnie could never decide
if he was handsome or frightening — his face was angled and his
eyes just so that they walked the line of being too unusual to be
plain but too odd to be beautiful.
“Well, what have we here?”
he asked. “Did you two fall in
the wash?”
Cora deflected. “Can I help you with something, Mr. . . .”
“Alden. Just Alden. It looks as though you two have been for a
swim. Would your mother be happy with that, I wonder? Two
girls, swimming in their clothes, doubtless in the company of
those boys always lurking about here.”
Minnie scowled, but he didn’t notice. He hadn’t taken his eyes
off of Cora. Minnie was suddenly glad Cora was the one wrapped
up in a blanket.
Cora bit her lip. “It was an accident. We were just going to get
cleaned up.”
“Of course. No need to worry. I won’t tell your mother.” His
smile got sharper, and it touched his eyes but in a way that made
them seem even less friendly. “I do like being owed a favor by a
pretty girl.”
Minnie opened her mouth to protest, but Cora stood straight
and regarded Alden with a cool, level gaze. “Sir, I trust my moth-
er’s anger far more than favors from men I do not know. I have no
desire to be beholden to you for anything other than a comfortable
stay in a pleasant home for the summer, the same as we offer all
our guests.”
Minnie expected him to be outraged, but if anything, he
looked delighted. “I see. Good day, Cora.” He didn’t move, stand-
ing a breath too close, as Cora fished the key out of her pocket and
opened their bedroom door. When Minnie slammed it shut
behind them, he was still in the hall, watching.
“He is so creepy,” Minnie hissed.
“Hush. It’s fine.” Cora paced, hands immediately going to
worry the stone she always kept in her pocket. The blood drained
from her face as her pocket turned out to be empty. “No,” she
moaned, searching again. “I didn’t take it out before we went in
the water!”
Minnie frowned. “It’s just a stone.”
Tears pooled in Cora’s eyes, and she kept feeling her dress as
though the stone would magically turn up. “No, it’s not. Father
gave it to me the day before he . . .” She burst into sobs, sitting