I seem to get a new customer every day in my little shop. Today, it’s Mister Duke come in to ask for something for his wife’s cough.

“It gets her into a fit and don’t let up till she’s doubled over with it.”

“She got a fever, Mister Duke?”

“No, Missus Taylor. Just the cough.”

Here, everybody’s got a last name and we use it. Folks either take their old master’s name, so lost family can find them again, or they make one up to suit them. It strengthens your soul to be called Mister or Missus Somebody when you been Hep or Old Carrie your whole life. Or sometimes “hey boy” or “you there.”

I take down my jars and mix up a pouch for Missus Duke.

“Here you go, Mister Duke,” I say. “One pinch in boiling water. Give it to her all through the day for the rest of the week.”

He gives me a basket of eggs and a loaf of bread for payment.

I smell the bread, baked fresh today, and go out to Henry who’s in his lean-to workshop built up along the side of the house. His leather apron and tools hang on the wall, and in the middle is his forge and anvil.

Henry’s in there with Pete Freedman, who picked his name to match his new place in life. Freedman. The two of them have their heads huddled together over their secret project.

“Got fresh bread,” I say. “You two hungry?”

“Should we show her?” Henry says, grinning.

“I guess it’s ready. Don’t know what else you want to do with it.”

Henry has me cover my eyes and, he leads me over to his project. “All right then, Sarah. Open them up.”

The two of them have made a cot for the baby. They’ve rounded the feet into rockers, and on the soft pine of the headboard they’ve carved Irish hills and Virginia mountains.

“You two made this?” I say, running my hand along the wood. “It’s the prettiest cot I ever saw. We got everything we need now.”

I hold my belly, large and round, and Henry slides his hands down over mine. “Yes,” he says. “I believe we do.”

Acknowledgments

So many people have contributed, in large and small ways, to bringing this book into the world. I’d like to thank Gillian Anton, Heather Critchlow, Eugenia Hall, and Chris May for their invaluable feedback throughout the writing process, and for helping me shape this story into a better version of itself. A huge thanks to the eternally generous Adrienne Dines for Ireland lessons and resources, critical feedback and a well-timed introduction. Thanks to Kelly Gerrard, Linda Jorgenson, David Wolfe and the entire AWS writer’s group for their supportive critique. Thanks to Brenda Shelton for her tireless appetite to beta read and unwavering support. Thanks to George King and Janine Desvaux, early readers and encouragers.

I am extremely grateful to the entire team at Myriad Editions for the enthusiasm and support they have shown me. I’d like to thank Candida Lacey, whose editorial insights have made this a better novel, Vicki Heath Silk for her patience and for catching my many blunders. Thanks also to Louisa Pritchard, Emma Dowson, Corinne Pearlman, and Lauren Burlinson for their efforts in guiding this book into as many hands as possible. Thanks to Leah Jacobs-Gordon for the beautiful cover design. And a special thank-you to Anna Burtt, who loved the book from the beginning and whose support put me on the path to publication.