Whisper Falls (33 page)

My master was quite capable of flying into an uncontrollable rage and hurting me. I could imagine such a circumstance only too well. He might knock me against the hearth or shove me down the stairs hard enough to cause harm that couldn't be undone.

Mr. Pratt is going to kill me
.

It was an indescribable thing, to contemplate one's imminent death. Was this how a criminal felt when sentenced to hang? He might not be sure of the day or the time, only that the end was near. How did he respond? With resignation? Disbelief? Fear?

If I stayed, I died. If I moved to Mark's world…

My gaze swept the yard. The little ones played in their favorite spot under the oak. Three beautiful, golden-haired girls. I had reared them all from infancy. They belonged to me as much as their parents. And my dear Phoebe. She, too, would be lost to me.

“If I go now, I shall never come back.” Sorrow squeezed my heart. “How can I bear to be separated from my loved ones forever?”

“You'll be leaving them forever, anyway, on August third. I hate to be harsh, but here's your chance to pick whether you leave by choice or in a box.”

His words grated against my ears. Should I put my faith in the history he'd uncovered? If Mark's special painting had the story wrong, I would be abandoning my life here for a place where I didn't belong.

Oh, why was I wasting so much time in thought? I had no wish to die. “Let's go.”

Mark ran hard through the woods ahead of me. Terror nipped at my heels like little dogs, spurring me forward.

Deborah had been crossing the yard toward us when Mark and I ran. She knew of our disappearance by now. It would take her but a few minutes to alert her father.

Would they know where to look?

Jedidiah might. He had seen me from the bluff with Mark. How long before they followed? Ten minutes? Fifteen?

Surely, ten minutes was enough. We would be through the falls before they could find us.

I had to stop thinking.

I had to concentrate on running.

My feet pounded on the uneven track. I had hurried along it one thousand times before, but never so fast. Never with such carelessness about where I put my feet. Briars tore at my limbs. I ignored the sting and followed Mark.

He reached the cliff first and leapt down in two mighty bounds. I picked my way along the granite rungs. When I caught up with him, he stood on my rock, blocking my view.

“Go,” I said.

“Can't.” His voice was tight. Unnatural.

I peered around him.

The water trickled.

No, trickled was too strong a word. The water dripped.

My legs quaked. This was disastrous.

Neither of us would pass through the waterfall this day. Until it rained again—a long, fierce storm—there would be no Whisper Falls.

“They will capture us both.”

“Let me try.” He hopped to his boulder and then back again. Over and over, each hop more frantic than the last. Water droplets glistened on his cheeks. He never left my century.

I stared at the drips and dribbles, hands clenching and unclenching, my anger rising. How could Mark overlook a detail so crucial as the state of the falls? Had we placed in my master's hands the very nudge he needed to rage out of control?

“God, Susanna. I'm sorry. It's not this bad in my century. I didn't check from your side.”

I gazed into his frightened face and knew instant shame. How could I be thinking like this? Mark had risked much to rescue me. I had agreed, an eager accomplice to the deed. Logic cooled my head as quickly as it had heated.

We wasted precious moments staring at water that did not flow. Townsfolk might be searching already. I cleared my mind of everything except the situation before me. The problem must be solved. They would not capture Mark.

I looked up. Above me, water seeped over the rocky edge. “We must return you to the future.”

“I'm not leaving you here by yourself.”

“Don't be foolish. You must.” We had to have more water, a spurt for a second or two at most. How could I make the creek produce more water?

“Leaving would be a seriously dick move on my part. I came to rescue you, and I will.” His voice sounded muffled and afraid.

“Rescue isn't possible today.” I had to give him a reason to go. The truth was reason enough.

“You are the proof that I'm running away,” I said, placing my fingers over his lips as he tried to protest. “If they find me alone, they have no evidence. You'll be safe, and I cannot be judged.”

His face creased with indecision. I pressed my argument. “Aiding a runaway is a terrible crime. You will be fortunate to be jailed and flogged.”

“Flogging is the best case?”

“Indeed. If you are caught, there will be no one to rescue either of us. Go to your world, and save me when it rains.”

“Susanna, please…”

I had no time to debate him. I had to act. The creek had to produce more water. I ran for the cliff and climbed.

“Where are you going?”

“Stay there and wait.”

I raced to the upper creek bed, to the sad pools of water that had once been a proudly flowing stream. There was hardly enough to drink.

I pushed rocks, mud, and sticks along the top of the falls, creating a dam while listening for sounds of discovery. The water increased, but not enough. I traveled many feet back along the creek, clearing debris, stones, and mud, dredging a little channel. Water trickled to the dam. A pool formed.

What a peculiar state to be in. For so long, I had feared Rocky Creek, and today I would dearly love to restore its swift current.

“What are you doing?” he called from below.

“Stay on my rock. When I tell you, the water will flow briefly.”

There were shouts in the distance. “
To the creek.
”

It was the first sign that I was being hunted.

I frowned at the water. It wasn't enough. Not yet. I trembled so much I could barely stand. Terror such as I had never known gripped me. My master had beaten me, burned me, pawed at my body and called me foul names. Never had he had an excuse to haul me before the magistrate.

An hour ago, my life had been tolerable. For the next seven weeks it would be unbearable, as I waited for Joan and my fate.

Mark's arms encircled me from behind. “Susanna,” he said.

I turned and pushed blindly at his chest. “Don't be foolish. Go back.”

“You're crazy if you think I'll leave you here.”

“You have no choice. There won't be enough water for two. Go.”

He didn't move, a look of determination on his face, his hands firmly at my waist.

“Are you mad?” When I shoved him with all my strength, he took a surprised step back. Finally. Perhaps now he would listen to me. “Return to the cave floor. We don't have much time.”

“I got you into this. I'll get you out.”

“Your good intentions are worth nothing if the town leaders capture you.” Frustrated tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. “I have found a solution that will work for us, but your stubbornness puts it in jeopardy. Go now or we'll suffer for your inaction.”

“What will happen to you?”

“I cannot be sure. But I do know that the punishment for disobeying my master is far lighter than for running away. I shall fare better without you.”

“I don't know…”

“Mark, travel to the future. It's the only way you can return later and help me escape.”

I wanted to say more. So much more.
I shall miss you. I shall be forever in your debt. I love you
. Yet the words would remain unsaid, for I would not utter them in a voice that shook with fear.

Shouts echoed from the trail behind us.

“Fine.” Mark hurried to the edge of the cliff. “I'll save you when it rains.”

I met his gaze. He believed it. I did not.

He scrambled down the cliff and stood on my rock, waiting. He was so beautiful. I studied him carefully, memorizing each detail. His tall, lean body. His intense, amber eyes.

The townsfolk erupted from the woods.

The water trickled and swirled. It wasn't enough.

“There she is!”

They were close. So close.

The water I had collected would have to do. “Mark, prepare. You'll only have one chance.”

“I'll come back for you.”

I kicked aside the dam.

* * *

Once they had abandoned the search for Mark, the townsfolk argued over how to deal with me. Eventually, they insisted I spend the night in jail. Mr. Pratt declared that he wanted to handle me by himself. I sided with the townsfolk.

One night stretched to two.

The jail cell was most unpleasant. The town leaders hadn't designed the space for comfort. There was unrelenting heat blowing through chinks between the wooden slats. I cursed how small it was. It wasn't as wide as I was tall, and I couldn't stand up straight. As I leaned against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, I felt great sympathy for the men who had stayed here before me.

The stink of dank straw offended my nostrils. Thin ribbons of bright sunlight slanted across the dirt floor, irritating my eyes. The daily meal shoved under the door would have been unfit for hogs.

Perhaps the worst part was the privy. It was a fair distance away. The jailer only came once each day to escort me there. If I needed to relieve myself more often, I had to squat in the corner of my cell, which only made the stench worse.

I learned to focus my mind away from the miseries. The solitude and absence of demands were not without merit.

There was time to recite my favorite Bible stories or revisit the characters in
Persuasion
.

I could relive the glory of kisses—not the vile punishment from Mr. Pratt, but the luscious delight I had shared with Mark.

I filled the remaining hours by pondering questions of great importance.

Would I die in this place?

Might my imprisonment change history?

From the future, did Mark know my fate?

There was a tap at the wall behind my head. I straightened. “Who's there?”

“I have brought you some food,” a girl's voice whispered.

I peered through the boards. Outside my cell, a sprigged muslin skirt floated above small feet. Had she gone mad?

“Dorcas, you will be in trouble if you're found near me.”

“Take the food. Then I shall leave quickly without being caught.”

A slice of bread was pushed roughly through the slats, followed by a hunk of pork, much mangled and riddled with splinters. I devoured the bread and ached for more.

“Are you all right, Susanna?”

“I am well.”

“Deborah said that Mr. Lewis came to see you on Friday.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, but no one else saw him. Even the dogs couldn't track him.”

I allowed myself a smile of triumph. “Perhaps she was mistaken.” I picked splinters from my meat.

“I think she has told the truth. I think he was here to help you. Much as I would miss you, I am sorry he failed. He is very brave.” She slid her small hand through the gap at the base of the wall. “You may keep it a secret, if you wish.”

I touched her fingers lightly with mine. “You are very dear to me, Dorcas.”

“Yes. We are dear to each other. If you go, how soon shall I see you again?”

“I do not know. Your father will not be inclined to let us visit.” I hesitated over what I was about to share, choosing the words carefully as the revelation might prove dangerous for me.

“Dorcas, there is a special place near the falls, a place I visit when I need to be at peace. If you go there, you will feel how sacred it is, and you will be reminded of me.”

“Where is this place?”

“I shall not say, but you will find it. I am confident of that.”

“Then I shall not rest until I discover your special place.” She sighed. “Would you like me to bring Delilah or Dinah next time I come? They miss you fiercely.”

“And I miss them, but do not bring them here. Although you are old enough to understand my circumstances, they are not. I should not wish to scare them.”

“Very well.” Her hand disappeared, and her skirts rustled as she stood. “Mama cooks while you are in jail. We are none of us pleased.”

A smile twitched the corners of my mouth at the change to a more practical subject. “I doubt it will last much longer.”

“Papa told Mama you will have a hearing before the magistrate tomorrow. Mr. Worth will decide your punishment. Papa says you will stay with us longer than you had planned. Do you think he's right?”

“Perhaps.” Her comments reminded me that my contract no longer mattered. I wouldn't be in Worthville much longer. What I didn't know was how I would depart.

“Dorcas, it's time for you to go. I shall see you soon enough.”

“I hope so.” She slapped the folds of her gown, the dust drifting through the slats in the cell. “I know that you'll leave one day, and you'll go where Papa cannot hurt you. But you promised to say goodbye. Will you remember?”

“I shall remember.”

* * *

It was barely past dawn when raised voices awakened me. I sat up, struggling to rouse my dazed mind.

“Open up the cell now, Joshua Baxter. She won't escape.” It was my mother's voice.

“I don't know, Mrs. Crawford. Mr. Worth said—”

“If she flees, you can jail me instead. Let her out.”

The door opened and my mother swooped in to gather me with her arms. The jailer flinched away in disgust. I didn't blame him. My clothes were soaked with sweat and urine. My hair hung about my face in sticky hanks. Ants had bitten one of my feet into a raw, swollen mass.

“Come,” Mama said, “it's time to clean up.” She half-carried me to the privy and from there to the banks of Rocky Creek.

After I undressed to my shift, she set to work scrubbing my outer garments. I stepped gingerly into a shallow pool and sighed with relief as my stinging feet slid into the cool, velvety silt. When I had finished bathing, Mama washed my hair. She wrung it free of water and combed it with her fingers, working carefully through each knot.