Whisper Falls (41 page)

I allowed my eyelids to open halfway. Norah sat curled in the chair next to the sofa, a phone pressed to her ear.

“The ankles worry me. I'm not sure what to do… A walk-in clinic? Yeah, there's a free clinic in Pittsboro on Saturdays… “She bit her lip, sighed heavily, and looked at me suddenly over the top of her spectacles. “Just a moment, Sherri,” she said and lowered the phone. “How do you feel?”

I allowed my eyes to blink open fully. “Rested.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I'm talking to Mark's mother. I'm almost done.”

I pushed myself into a sitting position, still wrapped in the blanket, and looked about the room. The clock over the fireplace had hands. It was just past noon.

Norah set the phone on a small table and wiggled forward to the edge of her chair. “Are you hungry?”

“No, ma'am.” Food here was abundant and varied. There were too many opportunities to eat. I did not know what to make of it. “A drink would be welcome.”

“I've made a pot of tea. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please.” I tried to stand and hesitated, waiting for my head to cease spinning.

“Don't get up. I'll fetch it.”

I must have been suffering from the sin of sloth, for I did not reject her offer. Reclining into the sofa, I waited until she returned with a cup. I sipped with pleasure. She had added a bit of honey.

“Susanna, the boys will be back soon.”

“The race is over, then?”

“It is.”

“Did he win?”

“I'll let him tell you.” Norah blew on her own mug of tea and smiled. “Our opportunity for a private conversation will be gone once they get here. Do you have any questions about life outside your…community?”

Questions? Indeed, yes. My mind buzzed with them.

Would Mark's parents approve of me?

How would I operate all of the appliances?

Why did they take baths every day, and what would happen if I did not?

Would I ever feel comfortable in this place?

“Norah,” I said and shook my head, bewildered, “I wonder about everything. I have so many questions that I do not know where to start.”

“Why don't you let me pick a topic? I'll talk, and if you don't understand, then stop me and ask.”

“Yes. I would like that.” I placed my cup on the table at the sofa's end, burrowed into the blanket, and listened expectantly.

“First, let's talk about lady things.”

I felt the heat of a blush sting my cheeks. “Lady things?”

She nodded. Her face was calm. “I'll tell you how we take care of our bodies. What do you call what happens each month to women?”

The blush eased at the mildness of her tone. “Monthlies.”

“That works. People around here would understand that term, although the word we use more often is
periods…”

I took another sip of my tea, enjoying the sweetness of honey and ginger. Norah continued to speak of many things. Baths, teeth, shaving, hair. She used words I knew, like brush and razor. She used words I did not know—words that I would ask to hear again.

Yet always she spoke in that same calm, mild voice. She paused between subjects and watched me kindly. And I grew ever more confident that I could learn anything with a lady such as she in my life.

When I pulled the truck into the driveway of the lake house, I saw Gran sitting on the deck, drinking iced tea and reading a book. She put it down as Granddad and I got out.

“Susanna's inside, resting,” Gran said before I even had the chance to ask.

I bent down to kiss her soft, soft cheek. “Thanks for taking care of her today.”

“My pleasure.” She caressed my hand. “You make me proud, Mark.”

I nodded but didn't speak.

Granddad lowered himself into another deck chair and groaned. “I'm glad that's behind me. It was too damned hot out there.”

“Oh, stop grumbling. You loved it and you know it,” Gran laughed.

I shut the front door on the two of them, my eyes hastily scanning the room. But I didn't have to look far. Susanna was sitting sideways on the couch, eyes closed, lips parted. She looked small, pale, and helpless. I felt this enormous surge of love—really, more like a tidal wave.

Easing onto the couch beside her, I reached for her hand where it lay on a cushion.

Instantly, her eyes popped open. A dreamy smile curved her lips.

“Hello,” she said in a low, husky, almost-normal voice.

“How do you feel?”

“Lovely.”

“Good.” I hesitated. “Did Gran mention taking you to see a doctor? I'll be with you.”

“Yes.” Susanna stretched and then shifted closer to me. “Did you win?”

“No, but I didn't embarrass myself, either.”

The course hadn't been all that difficult, but there were too many good racers and my body had been too banged up for me to do any better than top twenty in my age division. Keefe came in first, of course, and went out of his way to rub it in, except his victory dance hadn't bothered me the way he intended. Top twenty was great—amazing, even— after what I'd been through. My amusement pissed him off, and he'd stalked off, mumbling.

Susanna searched my face. “I am sorry to hear this. Are you upset?”

I answered with a kiss—a good, hard, hungry kiss. “Not a bit,” I said against her lips.

She smiled and drew back, her gaze darting to the door. “Mark, truly, Norah and Charlie might come in.”

“All right, it's time you had a lesson in twenty-first century relationships.” I scooped her into my arms and hauled her onto my lap, settling her in a way that was comfortable for us both, at least for now.

“First fact: I can get away with much more questionable stuff around my grandparents than I can around my parents.”

She laughed. “Is it proper for me to sit on your lap?”

“It's fine. Holding hands, hugging, some low-intensity kissing—all good.”

“And your parents?”

“I think, with them, we'll have to draw the line at holding hands. Especially with my mom.”

“Mark,” she said, then stopped. Her brow creased, like she was thinking hard. She studied our clasped hands, resting on her knee. “I am not accustomed to such open displays of affection. I do not know how comfortable I shall be.”

“Hey, don't ever worry about that. We're a team. It has to be right for both of us.”

She relaxed against my chest. “I don't want you to be disappointed in how long it takes me to adjust.”

“Never.” I pressed my lips to her hair. It still smelled like roses. “How about this? I'll be in charge of possibilities, and you'll be in charge of limits.”

“Limits and possibilities. A fair division of labor.” She smiled against my shirt. “Mark, I am so grateful—”

“Don't.” I wrapped her small body more tightly into my arms. Holy shit. When we were together, I felt strong and invincible, like we could do anything. “I love you, Susanna. You're here and you're safe and the rest of it is behind us. Okay?”

“Okay.” She sighed happily. “I love you.”

Outside, chairs squeaked. I could see the shadows of my grandparents shift as they stood. It was time to leave for the free clinic. But for one moment longer, it was enough to be alone—just the two of us.

“I am sorry about your race.” She nuzzled her cheek against me. “I wish you had won.”

“I did,” I said with a smile, “and it's the best win ever.”

I started researching
Whisper Falls
six years before I wrote a single word.

North Carolina is an amazing place to live for someone who loves history as much as I do. There are dozens of historic sites to visit within easy range of my home—as well as some of the nation's best state museums. I've tramped through reconstructed gardens and musty cellars, climbed through colonial and federal-period houses, and watched re-enactors fire muskets and mill corn. At the NC Museum of History, I've tried on period clothing, practiced a country dance, and observed the proper preparation of tea.

After making so many visits, it was only natural that I'd want to learn more. I located a copy of
Women's Fife and Work in the Southern Colonies
by Julia Cherry Spruill and immersed myself in the hard, distinctive lives of 18th century Southern women. Through Spruill's meticulous research and painstaking footnotes, I explored what Southern women faced in their education, jobs, religion, marriage, children, homes, culture, and legal realities.

It was while reading a section on crimes and punishments that I first encountered the harsh treatment of indentured females. From those pages, Susanna Marsh was born.

Although Susanna grows up in the fictional village of Worthville, NC, the places in Mark Lewis's world— Umstead State Park, the Raleigh greenway system, the state government complex—are real. And just like Mark, I've traveled to the State Archives and pored over the same two-centuries-old primary sources: wills, court records, newspapers, marriage licenses, and indentures.

Among the old documents, however, few were written by the indentured servants themselves; it would've been rare for them to write well enough to leave behind journals. But their stories still speak from historical sources, such as in newspaper accounts of runaways, in the inadequate laws that sought to protect them from their masters, and in the letters and journals of the upper classes whom they served. From these sources, I created the life that Susanna might reasonably have lived in the sort of small town that existed outside Raleigh at that time.

For more information on how indentured servants like Susanna Marsh might have lived and worked, please visit the Extras page on my website,
http://www.ElizabethLangston.net.

I owe deep and heartfelt gratitude to: historians, docents, and re-enactors for their patient and thorough answers; my wonderful family and fabulous friends for their support, encouragement, and curiosity; HCRW, the Rubies, my retreat friends, and the ever-generous writing community; Mike Mazzella, for showing me how to break noses; Tom and Christina, for their candor and faith; Laura Ownbey, whose gently-posed questions polished this story to a shine; the team at Spencer Hill Press, especially Jessica Porteous and Richard Storrs, who create magic with their craft; my amazing agent, Kevan Lyon, who never gave up; the best and brightest daughters a mother could adore; but most of all, thank you to my husband, who believed in my “highest aspirations” and let them be so.

Elizabeth lives in North Carolina (mid-way between the beaches and the mountains) with two daughters, one husband, and too many computers. When she's not writing software or stories, Elizabeth loves to travel, watch dance reality shows, and argue with her family over which restaurant to visit next.
Whisper Falls
is her debut novel.